Chapter 2 - Static Display
Kevin laughed gently at her flushed cheeks, clearly enjoying the rare moment where the confident, unbothered Lela Brown didn't have a ready comeback.
"I was wondering if you noticed that," he continued, stepping a bit closer--not too much, just enough to test a boundary.
Lela scoffed, trying to regain her composure. "Boy, don't flatter yourself. That was an accident."
"Sure it was," he replied with a grin, tossing the grease-stained rag onto his toolbox.
The truth was, Lela hadn't stopped thinking about that brush--the way it had jolted something awake inside her. It wasn't just that Kevin was young or that he had the kind of body a Marine kept like a well-maintained weapon--it was the way he looked at her. Not through her, not past her. At her. With curiosity. With respect. And maybe, just maybe, a little hunger.
But she couldn't let this get out of hand. She was twice divorced and had enough workplace drama in her rearview to know how fast something sweet could sour in a place like this. Still, that didn't stop her from watching him when she thought he wasn't looking--or catching the way he smiled at her jokes with that dimple she didn't want to find charming, but did anyway.
Lela cleared her throat. "We got work to do. Go make yourself useful and double-check the torque on those rudder pedals. I don't want you screwing around with safety."
"Yes ma'am," Kevin replied, with a mock salute. But his eyes lingered a second too long on her legs before he turned back to his task.
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By the time lunch rolled around, the sun had finally begun to heat up the hangar like an oven again. Kevin peeled off his coveralls down to his tight black T-shirt and sat on the bench outside with his sandwich. Lela joined him a minute later, her own lunch in tow, and sat a few feet away on the same bench. They ate in silence at first, only the whirring of cicadas and the distant groan of a landing C-130 breaking the stillness.
"You ever think about quitting?" Kevin asked between bites.
Lela gave him a sideways glance. "Quitting this job?"
He nodded.
"Hell yes. Every week," she said with a dry laugh. "Then that direct deposit hits, and I remember why I'm still here."
Kevin chuckled, then wiped his hands. "I like it here, but this place... it's got ghosts. You ever feel that?"
Lela looked out across the tarmac. The late summer heat shimmered over the runways. "Yeah," she said quietly. "I've seen too many people give their whole life to this job. Seen folks drop dead at their bench. No thank you."
"Is that why you don't date anybody around here?" Kevin asked carefully.
Lela gave him a sharp look. "You digging again?"
He held up his hands. "Just trying to understand. You're a beautiful woman, Lela. Don't seem right for someone like you to be alone."
She studied him for a moment, trying to decide whether to shut the door or leave it cracked. Maybe it was the heat, or the way he'd caught her from falling earlier, or just the fact that her body hadn't been touched in over two years. Whatever it was, she didn't swat the question away like she usually would.
"I didn't chose to be alone," she said softly. "I've just learned to be careful."
Kevin nodded, sensing she wouldn't say more.
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Over the next few Saturdays, something shifted between them. It was never overt, but the way they moved around each other became more fluid. They finished each other's sentences sometimes. They traded music recommendations during lunch breaks--he was surprised by how much she loved Kendrick Lamar, and she was impressed by his knowledge of Earth, Wind & Fire. Their conversations deepened. Kevin told her about Afghanistan. About the night he lost one of his best friends in a convoy hit. Lela shared stories of raising her daughter alone after her ex walked out. There was a tenderness that bloomed between them like ivy--slow, silent, but strong.
One Saturday afternoon, after the last plane had been inspected and signed off, they sat together under the tail wing, sipping cold Gatorades.
"You ever miss being younger?" Kevin asked.
