Read Soldier On for Free Online Page B

was chickenshit . . . kind of like the guy who kissed a girl on a library ladder and then ran out of the room like he was on fire.”
    Brandon chuckles. “Who knew Westley and I had so much in common?”
    The evening passes quickly. Too quickly for me. I’m too comfortable, wrapped in his arms as if we’ve been together for years. I sneak a peek at him as he watches the sword fight between Inigo Montoya and the Six-Fingered Man.
    “You’re missing the end,” he whispers.
    Busted. “Sorry.”
    At the end of the movie, when the grandfather talks about the five most passionate and pure kisses, I can literally feel Brandon’s gaze on me.
    I tilt my head in his direction. “You’re really missing the end.”
    He pulls me closer as his eyes flicker to my mouth, and I nearly laugh because this moment is completely cheesy and predictable.
    But I don’t laugh. I don’t even breathe.
    I’m impatient, so I lean in, kissing him softly. Weaving my fingers into his hair, I pull him closer. Brandon groans and presses his body against mine. He’s soft and warm and I feel it again . . . the butterflies or somersaults or whatever you want to call it that lets me know that this isn’t just an ordinary kiss, and Brandon is no ordinary guy.
    And I know, deep in my heart, that I’m in trouble.

    “You know, you never answered my question,” Brandon says.
    The movie ended an hour ago, but we haven’t moved from the couch. I’ve never understood why couples make out in the backseats of cars. Couches are so much more comfortable.
    “Which question was that?”
    “Who could you date?”
    “Hmm.” I pretend to ponder. I mean, really, shouldn’t it be obvious by now? “Someone who is kind-hearted. Someone who walks old ladies to the door of the coffee shop. Someone who looks sexy in a paisley apron.”
    He smiles and twirls a lock of my hair around his finger. “What about a Kentucky Wildcats fan? Could you date one of those?”
    It’s a fair question, considering my Indiana roots and my love for Hoosier basketball.
    I wrinkle my nose. “I suppose.”
    “Good to know.”
    We both laugh, and he buries his face against my neck. He really likes my neck.
    “Honestly, there’s only one type of guy I could never date.”
    Brandon lifts his head. “And what type is that?”
    “I could never, ever date a soldier.”
    His entire body stiffens.
    “You won’t date a soldier?”
    His voice is flat. Robotic.
    “No, I won’t.”
    “What do you have against soldiers?”
    “I have nothing against soldiers.”
    “But you just said—”
    I shake my head. “I have nothing against soldiers. It’s the military I have a problem with.”
    “What’s the difference?”
    I gaze into his deep brown eyes. They look tortured now. Sad. And I have no idea why. Have I offended him? Maybe his dad was in the military or something. Surely he would have mentioned that. Wouldn’t he?
    “Do we really have to talk about this right now?”
    “I . . . think we do.”
    I sigh heavily. “The difference is that I can admire and respect the people who put their lives on the line for me. I just don’t think young men and women should be forced to choose between their country and their family.”
    Brandon blinks. “But the military doesn’t make them choose. No one’s been drafted since Vietnam.”
    This is getting deep. And uncomfortable.
    “Brandon, maybe we should just watch another movie.”
    “This is because of your dad, isn’t it? Because he got killed in Desert Storm.”
    “Well . . . yes. Don’t you think that’s a good reason?”
    He lets go of me, and I immediately miss him.
    “Your father died doing something courageous and brave. Something he felt was his duty. That should give you comfort. You should be proud, Steph. You should be honored.”
    I leap to my feet. If there’s one thing I can’t stand, it’s being told how honored I should feel that I never had the chance to meet my father.
    “My dad was killed by