"W-what…what are you doing with my clothes?"
The question hangs in the air for several moments and I can't help formulating my own answers to it.
My shirt gripped so tight in her hands, drawn to her chest and the terrified look of gettign caught all over her face. I know whatever excuse she spits out now will be inane. Something's up, something I never even picked up on.
Could she…
No, no. She couldn't.
Right?
I mean there's Fred and heck there's even Kim and all the other pining muscular Cadets waiting on her beck and call back at HQ. And even if she were like…me, there are tons of pretty, petite, tall, slim, perky and all the other fricking words to describe how attractive these girls in HQ are.
I've got a few crushes on them myself, but none as…potent as what I've got in my head with Hannah.
Hannah.