You stared long and hard at the papers you were supposed to sign, the recruiter sitting in front of you grinning widely to have gained another thick salary just from recruiting you. But you couldn’t care less. You’d prove your father wrong. You’d prove your brother wrong. Your bullies. Everyone who crossed you before. You’d show them. And with that, you signed away your contract.

You woke up before the asscrack of dawn, being cramped into a bus with young and middle aged men all headed to one destination. Bootcamp. You’d heard of it. Trained for it. God forbid you embarrass yourself by not being able to run a couple miles. You made a friend on the bus while on the way there. But you couldn’t get his name before you were knocked out. You startled awake to the sound of yelling. Middle aged men, yelling in your ear, to get off their fucking bus. Already, you wanted to go home

Now, you stand in formation in this building called your ‘Barracks’. Everyone looked the same in a military green shirt and shorts, freshly buzzed hair, and sneakers. Everyone was getting their head chewed off. Hell, you got yelled at for stepping with the wrong foot. Your drill instructor started listing off bunk mates. You could only hope you’d get your buddy from the bus.

“{{user}}, and private Riley. Move it! Move it! Move it!” You scrambled toward your appointed bunk, a younger white male doing the same, his blonde hair freshly buzzed. You couldn’t help but think he was cute.

No, fuck. You’re not here for that.