“Pass me the salt, will you?” were the first words Lithuania Starr ever directed to Marco. They were sitting opposite each other, a couple of people away, at one of the long rows of tables in the dining hall of the Foggistani Air Force Training Grounds. Marco raised his head from his bowl of green-grayish goulash to look at the girl who he instantly considered to be rude and ill-mannered. He passed the salt silently, giving the girl a cold look as he did so. She acknowledged him out of the corner of her eye as she received the salt, then continued her conversation with friends further down the table.
Douche, thought Marco. Already Marco was forming an image in his mind, of how this was probably one of those girls who liked to dominate and crush; a castrator, if you will. Her high forehead, prominent lips and tightly pulled back hair served only to enhance the severity of her impression. She spoke seldom, but when she did speak she spoke loudly, in a voice that easily carried across the entire dining hall. No doubt assertive, thought Marco, spooning his goulash around.
But then he was caught by one of those unfortunate circumstances that make victims of most men: physical appeal. The girl’s expression might be harsh; she might carry herself with a just a little too much dignity; hey, she might even be a lesbian. But the low supply of females at the Air Force Training Grounds made her automatically of interest; and it wasn’t like she didn’t have pretty eyes. They were dark, of a color not easily distinguished, and they grew small and mischievously twinkly when she laughed—a laugh that came not from the mouth, or the throat, but from the heart. A laugh that carried with as much force as her voice, but flowed forth cascade-like in bursts of genuine mirth and delight. Her profile was attractive and smoothly carved as she laughed, with her delicately shaped and slightly plump lips, and the curve of her neck sloping gently down to meet her collarbone… her collarbone, well-defined angles peeking through her navy blue blouse, leading the eyes down to where the buttons on her breast met… buttons that if unbuttoned just might reveal a smooth and supple pair of—
A banana peel slapped Marco right between the eyes and splashed messily into his goulash. “Dude!” cried Marco, rising abruptly from his seat and staring down at his splattered military shirt. “Dick move!”
Felix Sombrero, Marco’s friend and flight simulation partner, was cackling hysterically from down the table. Marco glanced indignantly in his direction, while Felix, looking smug, shrugged and raised his hands in the air in an I-couldn’t-help-it sort of way. Marco looked down at his shirt again, assessing the damage of the green-gray stains, then noticed Lithuania was looking his way, her face pink as she withheld a bashful giggle.
Bashful? The girl looked quickly away and took a napkin to her mouth, wiping her lips just a little too vigorously. She then glanced back at Marco, but noticing he was still looking at her, flushed bright red before attempting to defuse the situation by snapping, “Good luck washing that out.” Marco gave Lithuania a quizzical but slightly amused expression. Lithuania stared fixedly back, but to her horror felt her cheeks betray her and grow hot. She whirled her head away, slapping the guy next to her with her long, dark ponytail. “I could use an apple right about now,” she burst in the general direction of everyone else, rising from her chair and almost bolting for the fruit baskets at the other end of the hall.
How could she have been such a retard? There she was, trying to come across as the badass chick of the Air Force, and all of a sudden she’s making a fool of herself in front of the guy she was trying to impress! Dumbass!
Lithuania reached the fruit basket and began weighing apples, taking an inordinate amount of time to compare one with another. The last thing she wanted to do was return to the table—especially after that humiliating display where she gave it all away. She had been too loud. She probably came across as one of those girls who like to dominate and crush; a castrator, if you will. Oh God, he probably thought she was a dyke!
Lithuania whirled around from the fruit basket, the apple in her left hand, and her right hand over her mouth. There he was, sitting at the table, struggling to wipe the goulash off his shirt. He paused, glanced over at Lithuania, then quickly returned to his shirt when he noticed she saw him.
Lithuania’s racing thoughts paused for a moment. Marco’s expression when he caught her blushing hadn’t been all that innocent either. Then again, it didn’t necessarily betray half as much as her blushing did. Whatever. Whatever. She’d return to the table, and resume her natural behavior. But this time she wouldn’t be unnecessarily loud. She would be herself. Marco had noticed her, at least. Now all she had to do was be gracious—not come across too strongly. Men don’t like girls that can kick their asses. Though she probably could kick his ass, after all the beatings she received at the hands of her older sister Estonia…
Anyways. She would return to the table. She would be herself. And she wouldn’t even give Marco a second glance. If he thought she was too into him, then he would totally lose interest. And she didn’t want that. She wasn’t even that interested in him to begin with… She just thought he was kind of hot… and seemed good-spirited, or something.
Douche, thought Marco. Already Marco was forming an image in his mind, of how this was probably one of those girls who liked to dominate and crush; a castrator, if you will. Her high forehead, prominent lips and tightly pulled back hair served only to enhance the severity of her impression. She spoke seldom, but when she did speak she spoke loudly, in a voice that easily carried across the entire dining hall. No doubt assertive, thought Marco, spooning his goulash around.
But then he was caught by one of those unfortunate circumstances that make victims of most men: physical appeal. The girl’s expression might be harsh; she might carry herself with a just a little too much dignity; hey, she might even be a lesbian. But the low supply of females at the Air Force Training Grounds made her automatically of interest; and it wasn’t like she didn’t have pretty eyes. They were dark, of a color not easily distinguished, and they grew small and mischievously twinkly when she laughed—a laugh that came not from the mouth, or the throat, but from the heart. A laugh that carried with as much force as her voice, but flowed forth cascade-like in bursts of genuine mirth and delight. Her profile was attractive and smoothly carved as she laughed, with her delicately shaped and slightly plump lips, and the curve of her neck sloping gently down to meet her collarbone… her collarbone, well-defined angles peeking through her navy blue blouse, leading the eyes down to where the buttons on her breast met… buttons that if unbuttoned just might reveal a smooth and supple pair of—
A banana peel slapped Marco right between the eyes and splashed messily into his goulash. “Dude!” cried Marco, rising abruptly from his seat and staring down at his splattered military shirt. “Dick move!”
Felix Sombrero, Marco’s friend and flight simulation partner, was cackling hysterically from down the table. Marco glanced indignantly in his direction, while Felix, looking smug, shrugged and raised his hands in the air in an I-couldn’t-help-it sort of way. Marco looked down at his shirt again, assessing the damage of the green-gray stains, then noticed Lithuania was looking his way, her face pink as she withheld a bashful giggle.
Bashful? The girl looked quickly away and took a napkin to her mouth, wiping her lips just a little too vigorously. She then glanced back at Marco, but noticing he was still looking at her, flushed bright red before attempting to defuse the situation by snapping, “Good luck washing that out.” Marco gave Lithuania a quizzical but slightly amused expression. Lithuania stared fixedly back, but to her horror felt her cheeks betray her and grow hot. She whirled her head away, slapping the guy next to her with her long, dark ponytail. “I could use an apple right about now,” she burst in the general direction of everyone else, rising from her chair and almost bolting for the fruit baskets at the other end of the hall.
How could she have been such a retard? There she was, trying to come across as the badass chick of the Air Force, and all of a sudden she’s making a fool of herself in front of the guy she was trying to impress! Dumbass!
Lithuania reached the fruit basket and began weighing apples, taking an inordinate amount of time to compare one with another. The last thing she wanted to do was return to the table—especially after that humiliating display where she gave it all away. She had been too loud. She probably came across as one of those girls who like to dominate and crush; a castrator, if you will. Oh God, he probably thought she was a dyke!
Lithuania whirled around from the fruit basket, the apple in her left hand, and her right hand over her mouth. There he was, sitting at the table, struggling to wipe the goulash off his shirt. He paused, glanced over at Lithuania, then quickly returned to his shirt when he noticed she saw him.
Lithuania’s racing thoughts paused for a moment. Marco’s expression when he caught her blushing hadn’t been all that innocent either. Then again, it didn’t necessarily betray half as much as her blushing did. Whatever. Whatever. She’d return to the table, and resume her natural behavior. But this time she wouldn’t be unnecessarily loud. She would be herself. Marco had noticed her, at least. Now all she had to do was be gracious—not come across too strongly. Men don’t like girls that can kick their asses. Though she probably could kick his ass, after all the beatings she received at the hands of her older sister Estonia…
Anyways. She would return to the table. She would be herself. And she wouldn’t even give Marco a second glance. If he thought she was too into him, then he would totally lose interest. And she didn’t want that. She wasn’t even that interested in him to begin with… She just thought he was kind of hot… and seemed good-spirited, or something.
She returned to the table, apple in hand and head in the air. She took her seat, and began eating her apple, listening to the conversations of her friends rather than speaking herself. Marco noticed she had picked a granny smith… the best kind of apple. They had just the right amount of tang, and were always juicy… like her lips, those captivating lips, as the liquid from the apple trickled along them down her cheek, cheeks which she hastily wiped with her napkin.
Marco dumped his spoon into his goulash with finality. The food tasted like ass anyways—he didn’t know why the hell he kept trying to finish it. And then he realized he didn’t even know the name of the girl with the apple. He knew almost everyone else at the Training Grounds, and yet he had never even noticed her. How was this possible? Well, the girl wasn’t attractive right off the bat. She had that kind of appeal you wouldn’t notice unless you actually looked at her. Her personality though… she seemed kind of bitchy. And Marco still had to find out whether she was a lesbian or not.
He rose from his chair with his cafeteria tray in hand, glanced swiftly at the girl, noticed she wasn’t paying him even the smallest bit of attention, and walked away. As he dumped his leftovers in the compost bin, a small sense of disappointment ambled through his chest.
Lithuania looked at Marco’s back as he walked away. A small part of her wanted him to turn around—turn around and catch her looking at him, just as she looked away with a suggestive shimmer in her eye. But he didn’t. He dumped his food in the compost bin, and walked away. Lithuania looked down disappointedly at her apple… she found it strange that it no longer tasted so sweet.
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