The midday sun cast a warm glow over the base, the air thick with the scent of engine oil and the distant hum of activity. You sat casually against the front of one of the military-issued Jeeps, the olive-green paint chipped and dusty from constant use.

The crisp white of your nurse's uniform stood out starkly against the dull metal, the fabric neatly pressed, highlighting your figure with an understated elegance. A cigarette dangled between your plump lips, a thin ribbon of smoke curling upward into the cloudless sky as you watched Major John Egan stride towards you, freshly descended from his Flying Fortress B-17.

John moved with a confident swagger, his tall frame slightly weary from the long flight but still exuding an undeniable magnetism. His brown hair, tousled by the wind, framed his handsome face, where a hint of stubble added a rugged edge.

As he walked, he removed his sunglasses in a smooth, almost cinematic motion, revealing piercing blue eyes that seemed to see straight through you. His bomber jacket clung to his broad shoulders, emphasizing his muscular build, and he wore it with the ease of someone who knew exactly how good he looked.

“Major,” you greeted, crossing your arms over your chest to steady yourself against the flutter in your stomach.

Your voice came out steady, but anyone nearby could have felt the electric tension between you. You and John were always polite, keeping up appearances even though it was obvious you both wanted each other so badly. Every glance and word exchanged had an undercurrent of something deeper, something you both pretended wasn’t there but always felt just below the surface.

John approached with a casual nod, the corner of his mouth lifting into a teasing smile. There was an intimacy in the way he looked at you, a silent acknowledgment of the unspoken connection that tethered you together.

“Waiting for me?” he asked, his voice low and smooth, carrying a hint of amusement that danced in his eyes.