Page 82 of The Fake Date (Brides of Beaufort 4)

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BEAU

“That woman is infuriating,” I said to the empty hallway, just barely stopping short of punching a wall.

She’d totally wrecked me, and she wasmadbecause I didn’t express myself the way she thought I should while I was still trying to figure out which way was up?

How dare she.

There I’d been all morning,nothoping while also low-keyobnoxiouslyhoping for a reason to kiss her, and in a few minutes, I’d gottentwo. And then she lost her mind and freaked out after both of them.

See, this is another reason people shouldn’t force people into relationships.

As I paced around the hallway and ran through my thoughts, I zeroed in on her confession about why she always chased book boyfriends. Just as I’d suspected, it was because the things that made her so amazing to me scared other guys away, and she wanted to protect herself from that.

It blew my mind. It was wrong.Shewas wrong.

Now, more than ever, I knew I needed to figure out how to stay in South Carolina. Not just for her, because I also had Pops to think about. But if I had any chance at being with her, I had to take it. And it wouldn’t be in a way where I had to change her into something that she wasn’t. I needed to meet her where she was if I had any hope of showing her this was real for me, and she could be realwithme.

With purposeful movements, I pulled out my phone to text Grant.

Me: Hey, man. Quick question. Are they hurting for drill instructors right now?

Thankfully, he started typing right away.Great timing.

Grant: I mean, usually if given the choice most Marines pick embassy duty or recruiting duty over this, so I guess they’re always accepting applications. Why?

My pulse sped up, victory so close I could almost feel it. But there was one more consideration.

Me: I think I might put in a package. But only if I can request to be at Parris Island. Is that a thing?

Grant: Yeah, they give you a preference on East or West. But it’s not a guarantee. This is still the Marine Corps.

I fist-pumped the air, then looked around to make sure no one was watching. Clearing my throat, I went back to my phone.

Me: Yeah, I hear you. Still, might be worth a shot.

Grant: Why would you want to be a DI? Didn’t you hear me when I said how rough it’s been?

Me: I heard you. But it’s the only way I can think of to get out of my current orders so I can stay here.

Grant: Okay. Well, if you put in a package, expect it to roll fast. You’ll probably be sent to DI school pretty quick. And that, my friend, is rough.

I frowned. How bad could it be? I’d already gone through boot camp, which was thirteen weeks of chaos and mind games. Then I’d been on a combat deployment and several other training detachments. I could handle DI school.

Might as well bite, though.

Me: Why? What’s it like?

Grant: Imagine going to boot camp again, only this time you’re ten years older, more set in your ways, more salty. And the DIs are literally trying to break you down to feeling like a worthless piece of dirt only so they can build you back up into someone who knows how to do that to other people.

This dude knows how to paint a picture.

Me: Wow.

Grant: Yep. Choose carefully, man. It’s intense.

Me: I will. Thanks for the info.