Page 7 of Undaunted

I find the flyer about the potluck in the elevator on my way down to the garage. Something about a bimonthly gathering of neighbors by the pool. Potluck. BYOB. If that’s the case, then I’ve missed two of them since moving in but it’s not as if I’m missing anything. I’m not exactly social outside of the Teams.

As the elevator doors slide open to the parking garage, I pull the flyer from the elevator wall, fold it, and slip it inside my jacket pocket. Maybe I’ll make an appearance at this thing if I’m totally bored in my apartment. Who knows? Claudia might even be there.

I ride to the north side of the Chesapeake Bay Bridge, stopping at the pier to see what’s biting. It’s nice to simply sit somewhere and take in the view of the water, feeling the ocean breeze against my face. No battles to fight. No missions to accomplish. Perfect time to think about Claudia.

I haven’t stopped thinking about her since I ran into her in the elevator. How many times I almost knocked on her door I’ve lost count but what would I say? I was the one who didn’t ask for her phone number that night. Sure, we had a wonderful time, spending the night together and most of the next day; you’d think I’d have asked to see her again.

But with me deploying in two days, no way was I going to have her wait for me to call her until I got back in seven months. But she’s here now and the thought of her living two doors away from me has been driving me crazy.

Would she even want to see me again?

An hour of thinking later, I get on my bike and head back to the apartment. The party is in full swing when I emerge from the parking garage into the lobby to retrieve my mail. As I get in the elevator, I can hear people talking and laughing. Making friends. Being social.

As I step inside my apartment, I consider staying home and doing nothing. But as I toss my keys on the counter, I can’t help but laugh. I can’t believe I’m actually turning down a chance to run into Claudia again. Sure, there’s a possibility she may not show up. But what if she does?

I take a deep breath.Trevor Antonio Hawthorne, what the hell are you afraid of?You’ve run into danger so many times you’ve lost count yet here you are, scared of running into a woman at a little potluck.

Ah, hell. I grab my keys and slip them into my jeans pocket. Even if I don’t run into her, I might as well go down there and be social.

I spot Claudia the moment I emerge from the elevator. She’s standing by a long table laden with dishes from one end to the other. Chips and salsa, finger sandwiches, grilled meats, a mac n’ cheese casserole for the kids. Coolers filled with sodas, juice, and beer. A separate table for an assortment of wines. All around me, people are talking and laughing, having a good time, but I barely notice them.

All I see is her.

As Claudia talks to some guy who can’t take his eyes off her, jealousy hits me like a punch in the gut. I shouldn’t feel the way I’m feeling, not when I’m the asshole who didn’t ask for her phone number.

But I’m not deploying anymore. I’m no longer living on borrowed time with every mission, not knowing if I’m coming back or not.

As the man leans in and whispers something in her ear, I take a deep breath. I can either watch some guy whisper in her ear all afternoon or I can do something about it, like say hi.

Shouldn’t be too hard, right?

The man talking to her stops to glare at me as I approach but I don’t care. I’m making up for the lost time, a lost opportunity.

As he clears his throat, I fake a smile. “Hey.”

“Hey, man, what’s up?” he mutters as Claudia turns to look at me.

“It’s nice seeing you again,” she says and my heart skips a beat.

The man frowns as he turns to look at her. “You know him?”

“Trevor.” I extend my hand. “And you are…?”

“Phil. I live on the second floor,” he mutters as he shakes my hand, his grip loose. “Do you live here? I’ve never seen you attend these potlucks before, and this is only for tenants.”

“He lives on my floor,” Claudia says as I grab a paper plate and turn my attention to the dishes arranged on the table.

“What do you recommend I should try?” I ask. “So many choices here.”

“You should try the green chile cheese dip. Goes well with the blue corn tortilla chips over there.” She cocks her head toward a glass bowl in the middle of the table next to a half-empty bag of chips. “But I’m biased because Leigh and I made it.”

“From scratch?”

“Of course.”

“Then I’m definitely trying it.” I spoon a serving of dip onto my plate. “Nothing like green chiles, especially if they’re from New Mexico.”

Claudia narrows her eyes. “You’re only saying that because you know I’m from there.”

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