It was a cold morning. The day had dragged by slowly, taking turns on the radio, and checking your uniform for tonights mission.

You and your team were heading out into the fields, nearby to watch enemy activity, and position. And one little thing? Try make it out alive.

You were sat on the harbour by the beach, near your base. Your feet dangled over the edge, your boots brushing the silvery water if you reached enough.

Footsteps sounded from behind you. He sat beside you, and his scent intoxicated your senses.

Oliver Eaton. Pretty boy, had feelings that we ignored, and flirted most of the time.

“Angel.”