Now sensing the eyes of everyone at the pool on her, Shane whispered to herself, “Let’s get this over with.” She quickly unbuttoned her cover-up and removed it. The black one-piece suit was at least sensible, and she kept her arms drawn in as she gingerly slid into the pool. She waded to the net on Irish’s team as two more guys joined them in the water.
“Macho, is this the new guy?” Trench asked with a friendly smile, looking eye-to-eye at VFA-16’s newest officer.
Macho’s plan was working. “Yeah, this is Shane Duncan. Shane, this is Mark ‘Trench’ Jones and John ‘Coach’ Madden.”
“Hi, sir,” Shane replied with a shy smile as she extended her hand awkwardly.
“Welcome aboard, Fung, and cut the ‘sir’ crap. We’re all JOs. You know what you’re doing, here?”
Shane nodded. He was cute, they all were. And Mark—Trench—was paying attention to her. Maybe this wasn’t so bad after all. She could relax with her new squadronmates.
The game commenced, and Shane kept missing the action as Trench took the shots whenever the ball came their way. Soon, though, the ball came to her, and she needed to jump up and hit it.
Trench’s body crashed into her hard, knocking her down with a splash. She immediately felt his arm around her waist, pulling her up.
“Whoa, sorry, new guy!” Trench apologized as he released her and backed off.
“C’mon, Fung,” Macho chided her. “That was your shot!”
Shane smiled and got ready for the next serve. What fun! Everyone was so friendly and welcoming, smiling at her, embracing her, right off, as one of the group. Tiffany was right, the guys were so friendly and nice, like big brothers, their hands helping to steady her when she was off balance. Within minutes she felt protected by them. Playing pool volleyball with her new squadron friends in this tropical paradise was like living a dream. She found herself beaming as the water ran down her face and a dozen wet and friendly faces smiled back at her. Her grandfather had told her of the “work hard, play hard” culture of the Navy, and the play hard part was off to a great start. The Firebirds seemed to accept her for who she was, their new Intelligence Officer who would make them better aviators.
Next to her, with one eye on the game and one on Shane, Trench got his second wind like no hangover remedy could have done. Fate had delivered this dripping centerfold model practically into his lap! He would nail her by the time they returned to Norfolk, and he would make sure he was the first.
Trench then noticed the girls from last night had arranged their towels on the poolside lounge chairs and were taking furtive glances at him. They seemed miffed that he was not coming right over to join them, or at least to acknowledge them. They were no worse for wear he figured, and would probably snag some other guy tonight. He had duty back at the ship anyway, and the two coeds, together, couldn’t compete with the smoking hot six-foot