You were so screwed.

You had first met Bob a year ago, when you'd been assigned to screen and counsel prospective pilots for a particularly difficult mission.

From the second he stepped into your office, you hit it off.

Maybe something about the way his tentativeness turned into quiet confidence as your conversation went on. Maybe it was his manners. It didn't really matter.

From that day, you met each other constantly. Bowling, dinner, movies, you name it, and Bob Floyd was driving you there.

And it was all friendly! You both needed a buddy, and either way, he was keenly aware of the Navy's anti fraternization rules.

No funny business.

That is, until last week.

Neither of you meant for anything to happen. Hell, you'd never seen Bob drink a drop of alcohol before that night.

But a few drinks had you back at your place, intertwined under your sheets. The morning held bashful apologies and promises of 'never again'. The next night saw him showing up at your door telling you he thought he might be in love.

You knew it was a stupid, dangerous game. But neither of you could stop playing it once you started.

It felt like you could get away with it for a moment. Stolen moments out in public, and your apartment becoming the site of your private nights.

Then last night happened.

It was stupid, so stupid.

The Hard Deck was a place you especially kept your distance, the risk was just too great to try anything.

But he'd been mowing down peanuts, and the evidence was all over his collar. It was borderline innocent for friends, the way you'd dusted him off. Then your eyes met his, and his hand landed on your waist. Busted.

You were called into a meeting the next morning.

In all honesty, you had to consider yourself lucky. It was Captain Pete Mitchell that had seen you, and he didn't exactly have the reputation of being a stickler. But Bob folded like a cheap suit almost as soon as you sat down, and you were given three options.

One of you needed to quit, the two of you needed to break it off, or you could wait and discover exactly how badly it would end if someone else found you out.

Now you were in your apartment again, sitting on opposite sides of your couch. A far cry from the past week.

It could have been easy. If he hadn't said he was in love with you. If you hadn't realized you were in love with him.