My name is Frederick Wentworth and I am a Lieutenant, Junior Grade in the United States Navy. I’m a member of the Judge Advocate General Corps and though I’m not yet an attorney with the corps, one day I will be. The Navy, you see, sends me to law school at night, while engaging my services as a legal assistant during the day, so I’m not following the traditional path of three years of law school.

I’m also a man in love. How that happened, I’m not entirely sure. But one thing is for certain. I’d like to meet the lady in question.

It all started three months ago; I remember it distinctly because it was the very same evening my sixth semester of classes began. I was musing about how many semesters I had left, as well as reflecting on the changes my life had undergone since joining the Navy as an Ensign some eight years prior, when I happened to glance up. The Admiralty law textbook I’d held in my hand slipped from my fingers.

I felt like an idiot. And I could feel the heat of sheepishness creep along the back of neck as I bent over to retrieve my very expensive textbook. The front cover already had a dent in it, and it’d only been the first night of class. I brushed the dirt from the leather covering, and looked up anew. She was gone, I was startled to discover, hidden by the crowd that had suddenly rushed the platform.

But when I took a chance and leaned backwards, there she was, doing the same.

She was looking straight at me and had a grin on her face, as if she were laughing at me. It was a lovely grin. The same grin that had caused me to drop my book in the first place.

In that brief second, I made a wish. I wished I could always make her grin like that.

If you told me that one day I would be ogling a man in uniform, I would tell you to think again. That’s because when my class took a field trip to Annapolis, Maryland our junior year of high school, I was the only girl in my class who hadn’t fallen into a mad swoon at the sight of dress whites. I hadn’t understood the appeal. I mean, wasn’t one man dressed in a white uniform the same as the next? That was, after all, the meaning of ‘uniform.’

I have come to realize since then that I, Anne Elliot, she who must always be right, was wrong. Terribly wrong. Because the man I’ve been eyeing for the past three months is definitely unique. With an awesome physique, if you’ll pardon the very bad pun.

Russell, my best friend, says I’ve finally been seduced by the power of the dress white. He suggests I’d feel differently once I saw my Seaman Schmuckatelli out of them. Somehow, I don’t think Russell intended for the mental image I had to follow. In any event, it doesn’t matter what he meant, because I know for a fact that Russell is wrong. Since that first night, I’ve seen him in his Navy blues, khakis, and once I even saw him in plain old jeans. I’m not going to lie. The night he wore his jeans, my fingers itched in ways they’ve never itched before.

Does that make me a shameless hussy?

Or maybe just shallow.

You don’t want to know what Russell thinks. He was rather crude on the subject, but I think Russell’s a tad bitter at the moment. His partner of three years recently broke up with him, and while Russell is mourning Walter’s loss, I’m actually celebrating it. It’s never a good sign when a guy likes to work out while staring at himself in the gym’s mirror and that’s all Walter ever did the one time I allowed Russell to drag me to the gym with him. For the record, I think Walter had a sick fascination with all mirrors. Not just the gym’s.

But I digress.

My original point was that it’s not just the way my Seaman looks. It’s about the way his eyes darken and intensify when they meet mine. The way he looks me up and down in that not so subtle focused and appraising way. It makes me want to shiver and melt all at the same time! And, oddly enough, I also adore the way he studies his textbooks. There’s just something about the way he concentrates on his reading that I find seriously cute. Some nights, when I reach the platform, I’ll find him already seated on a bench with his book spread across his lap. He’ll run an absent hand through his hair as he focuses on the words, oblivious to his surroundings; the display of gorgeousness never fails to cause my heart to skip a beat and makes me wish I could be that hand.

All right, so maybe part of the attraction is physical. I’m human!

But I think if you could see him for yourself, you’d forgive me. I give you fair warning though. If you try and fight me for him, I’m liable to knock you down.

I know it must sound strange to hear that I’ve fallen in love with someone I’ve never met. When I told my CO, my commanding officer, mentor and friend, Sophia, she stared at me as if I’d just committed the cardinal sin of confessing a desire to quit the Navy and join the Marines. When my only response was to roll my eyes at her, she then took my hand and asked in all seriousness if the stress of our recent caseload had gotten to me and whether I needed a few days off for rest. That was hardly the case; I was not a toddler in need of coddling, and I bristled at the suggestion.

I’m simply a man who knows what he wants when he sees it, and I told her so.

Sophia then sat back in her chair, thoughtful, and responded by wishing she could meet the paragon who’d managed to finally break through my stoic exterior. “Stoic exterior” was, by the way, her description. Not mine.

I sighed. It didn’t bear repeating that I too wished I could meet the mystery woman with whom I was in love. Sophia took one look at my deflated self and took pity on me. She got up, closed her office door and, returning to her seat on the opposite side of the desk, ordered me to tell her about my mystery woman. As my CO, I could hardly refuse Sophia, could I?

Though it was her smile that first caught my attention, it was her entire person that kept me fixated.

I’ve been told often that I’m too serious by half; that I’m too rigid and structured for my own good. This is probably why I’m so perfectly suited for the military where order always rules the day. And all the more reason why I’m so attracted to this wonderful free spirit. Each night, she breezes into the Metro station like a breath of fresh air, sunrays bouncing from each step she takes. This is, I assure you, no easy feat in an underground station where the air lies stagnant until a train whooshes into the station, kicking up dirt and grime as it grinds to a stop.

There is laughter in her every movement, and just to look at her makes my heart beat wildly. I’ve never felt this way before; I’m normally so controlled. But when she’s near, the air is charged with intense electricity, such as I’ve never felt before. It tempts me towards recklessness and makes me want to throw caution to the wind.

She brings levity to my life, something I didn’t even know I craved until I saw her. She gives me something to look forward to. And she makes me want to shake my head and smile.

Even as I say this, I can see the surprise quivering around Sophia’s mouth. That’s because Sophia is forever complaining that I never smile enough. But I can’t help it when I witness the way her eyes dart back and forth before she straightens her hair and clothes when she thinks no one is looking. Or the way she rummages through that oversized bag of hers for a full two minutes and forty seconds before pulling out a library book.

Yes, I confess, I timed it. It’s just that, that bag of hers has provided me with evenings of endless fascination. What does she keep in there that it takes her two minutes and forty seconds to find her book, three minutes and eighteen seconds to find a hair tie? What other secrets does she schlep around with her in that bag?

Now you see why I find her so adorable. And why I also smile when I see her helping elderly people onto the train or entertaining bored children waiting for the train. I know, even without knowing her, that she has a heart of gold.

Is it any wonder that I can’t wait to see her again?

With one eye on the clock and the other focused on gathering all my things together, I quickly dumped my water bottle into my oversized tote with one hand and stepped into a skirt with the other. When both my hands were free, I tugged the skirt up and over my leggings.

It’d be pointless to deny that that I’ve let my yoga class out ten minutes early tonight, just as it would be pointless to deny that I have reasons for doing so. I wanted to make sure that I had plenty of time to clean up and make myself presentable tonight without having to straighten myself while waiting for the train, as I normally do.

This is because tonight is one of the three nights a week that I get to see my Seaman. Don’t get your hopes up. There’s nothing more going on tonight than that. I know that one of these nights we’ll gather the courage to say something to each other, but until then we’re both content to leave things as they are and admire from a distance.

I was locking my classroom door when Mary, another member of the Wellness Center where I worked, toddled up to me and asked if I wanted to join her for an after hours drink. I’ve always found Mary’s work at the Wellness Center ironic on two counts. First, she’s the Center’s therapist; yet, Russell and I are constantly having to talk her down from the ledge. Particularly, every time she gets dumped and, as a serial dater, this happens often. Mary doesn’t understand why men never ask her out on a second date, which brings me to the second reason why I think it is so laughable that she works at a Wellness Center. Mary is a hypochondriac. And likes to share her symptoms with us all.

In fact, just this afternoon, she cornered me in the hallway to confide that she feared she might have SARS, and to please not talk about it so loudly because she didn’t want the Center for Disease Control to overhear and quarantine her. Considering that Mary hasn’t traveled to Asia since, well, ever, I thought this unlikely.

As I had no desire to hear more about her alleged SARS-like ailments, I declined Mary’s invitation to go out for drinks. Besides, I had better things to do tonight. Like hurrying to the Metro stop for a glimpse of my Seaman.

I was halfway down the stairs and almost out the door to the sidewalk when I heard heavy footsteps running after me. I turned around just in time for Russell to grab my elbow and pull me out the door. I didn’t know what was going on until he explained that he’d gotten out of drinks with Mary with the excuse of needing to see me home. I couldn’t help but snort. In all the years I’ve worked at the Wellness Center as a yoga instructor and Russell an herbalist, he’s never once felt the need to escort me home.

Once outside, I told him he could go his own way, but Russell would not be deterred. Sneaky fellow. He wanted another peek at my Seaman! Russell knows what nights of the week I have my run-ins with the Seaman because I dragged him with me to my Metro stop once before, when Russell was afraid I was making eyes with a serial killer, and I just know that ever since then Russell’s been drooling to see him again. I could hardly blame him when I was foaming at the mouth myself and, knowing I wouldn’t be able to shake him anyway, I relented.

It was difficult to contain my excitement once we arrived at the Metro platform. I don’t know why after all these weeks I felt particularly keen to see him tonight, but I was. Russell couldn’t hide his smirk as he watched me flounder in boundless energy and nervousness. I stamped my foot and turned away from him.

But my edginess took on a new meaning as the minutes on the Metro’s digital clock continued to grow. When another minute passed and there was still no sign of him, Russell voiced the fear I was desperately trying to suppress in the back of my head: my Seaman was not coming.

No, I would not believe it. He’d yet to miss a night.

I turned to tell Russell so and was slapped with the smugness on his face. He’s always found this whole thing “screwy,” as he describes it, and this just gave him the perfect ammunition. I swear, though he is my best friend, there are times when even I want to give him a good pummel to the head. I listened to him drone on about Walter for three years, after all; couldn’t he indulge me in this?

I’d just worked myself into a frenzy over Russell and his slack in the friendship department when my train pulled into the station. With Russell standing in the train’s doorway, motioning with his head for me to get on, and people pushing past me to join him, I didn’t know what to do.

He still hadn’t arrived.

I checked my watch for the five hundredth time and kicked it up a notch again, though how I was supposed to run faster than my current pace was beyond me. I could have killed Professor Elliot, keeping us five minutes late, all because he’d wanted to pontificate self-importantly on absolutely nothing of substance, taking into no consideration the fact that his students might have somewhere else to be immediately after class. Finally released from the hell of raging egos, I then had to contend with the two annoying girls from my Health law seminar, Henrietta and Louisa, who stood in front of the staircase as they gossiped and traded notes, as if this was the most sensible place to congregate, and blocked everyone’s way out the building. It was an act of restraint to not grab one of them and toss her down the stairs, out of my way.

By the time I finally exited the building, I pretty much knew that missing my train would be inevitable. But I wasn’t willing to give up. Seeing her, on the platform, on the train, it was my thrice a week pleasure. And as today was Thursday, if I didn’t see her tonight, I’d have to go a whole four days before I got to see her again.

At the alarming thought, my legs pumped even harder.

The Metro station came into sight. I would have breathed a sigh of relief, but I was all out of breaths. I skidded to a pause, lest I go hurtling down the escalator, taking down several people with me.

With my heart pounding in my chest, and as much haste as I could muster, I sprinted down the escalator only to see the red lights of the train’s last car blink mockingly at me as they grew smaller until they were gone. The platform was empty.

My chin dropped to my chest, which was still heaving from being out of breath.

I’d missed the train.

I was late.

Just as I gave up hope, out of the corner of my eye, I caught sight of movement. I turned my head. She stepped out from behind a column. She smiled shyly at me. Oh, gloriousness!

I was not late.

I was right on time.

THE END