Collateral by Ellen Hopkins

bedroom door,
    where he’d see it when he got up.
    Hurried to class, and managed
    to make it with two minutes to spare.
    Spent the rest of the day trying
    to concentrate. Wondering if Cole
    would be there when I got home.

NOT ONLY WAS HE THERE
    He and Spence had gone grocery
    shopping. The two of them were in
    the kitchen, slurping beer and doing
    their best to cook something resembling
    spaghetti. Darian diverted me to
    my bedroom. Thank God for Ragu!
    she said, laughing. Now, if they can
    just figure out how to do al dente.
    I put my books on my desk. Noticed
    that Cole had made the bed. “What’s
    up with all the domesticity?” I wondered
    out loud. “The way to a girl’s heart?”
    Just saying it gave the fractured cliché
    some weight. “Whose idea was it to make
    us dinner, anyway?” I expected her to take
    credit. But, no. Apparently it was Cole’s.
    He said he owed you. Darian smiled.
    He didn’t say what for, but I’ve got
    a pretty good idea. Girl, I’ve never heard
    you, like, howl before! Then she laughed.
    My face ignited, but I laughed, too.
    Well, a little. They heard ? “Compared
    to you, it was more like a whimper. But . . .”
    I never shared the details of my sex life—
    or lack thereof. But I knew she really
    wanted them at that moment. I didn’t
    know what to tell her, except, “Cole
    is amazing.” In more ways than one.

THE SPAGHETTI
    Wasn’t half-bad. In fact, bolstered
    by extra onion, garlic, and a fresh
    grate of Parmesan, the Ragu proved
    pretty darn good. The guys even
    seemed to understand the meaning
    of al dente. We ate. Drank a little.
    Enjoyed dinner-table talk about past
    problems and future fears. It was more
    domestic than anything I’d enjoyed
    since I was a little girl. The guys
    cleared and washed the dishes
    by hand. It was such a sweet gesture
    that later, when I had to go searching
    for my favorite knife, finally finding it
    in the drawer with the spatulas, it
    bothered me only a little. After dinner,
    we watched a scary movie on HBO,
    and by the evening’s end, the four
    of us were solidly a pair of couples.
    My homework suffered (in fact,
    it languished completely). But sex
    that night was even better because
    with the basics already accomplished,
    Cole and I made it all about nuance.

I WAS UP IN TIME FOR CLASS
    Darian, who had missed Monday,
    missed Tuesday, too. I have no idea
    if she and Spence slept all day,
    emerging like vampires when the sun
    went down, or what. Neither do
    I know for sure how Cole entertained
    himself while I was at school.
    All I know is, he was waiting for me
    when I got home. Some nights,
    we had dinner out. Others, we cooked
    together like a regular committed
    couple. It was a pleasant holding pattern
    until the fledgling soldiers had to return
    to Pendleton for SOI—School of Infantry,
    where recruits learn vital warfare skills—
    Machine Gun on the Run or Grenades 101.
    Cole and Spence would sort into
    different groups there—Cole to the
    Infantry Training Battalion, and Spencer
    to the Marine Combat Training Battalion,
    before moving on to his chosen
    Military Occupation Specialty training.

AT THE TIME
    I was clueless about such details.
    All I knew about the Marine Corps
    was that it was about to swallow
    the new guy in my life. The tall,
    serious one from Wyoming, who
    enjoyed staring me down with amber
    eyes and making me come, first
    with his tongue, and then the magic
    way only he knew how to do.
    I wouldn’t have used the word “love”
    then, but I was well on my way there.
    It would take several days of silence,
    brooding about what our time together
    actually meant, for the first real pangs
    of love to strike. But as Cole tossed
    his things into his backpack, this little
    voice kept whispering, “God, you’re
    going to miss him.” And when he
    went to pee before leaving, I slipped
    one of his T-shirts back out