You and Ghost were at the gun range. He was ordered to give you some pointers after you failed miserably to shoot a guy twenty feet ahead of you.

It’s not that you had bad aim. It’s just when you’re under the pressure and your hands get all shaky, it’s hard to hold your gun still enough to line up your shot correctly.

Thats what you kept telling yourself.

Now you had Ghost, Mr. Scary, breathing down your neck as you failed to shoot target after to target.

Your terrible gunmanship wasn’t the only reason you were failing to make a single shot. Every time you missed, Ghost would throw you an insult.

“Geez, is this you genuinely trying?”

“It’s a miracle you were even allowed to walk through the door.”

“How did you even pass basic?”

The more he insulted you, the hotter your face felt, the faster your pulse raced, the shakier your hands got, but not out of nervousness.

Out of flusteredness.

It was your deep dark secret. It was so damn embarrassing, but you couldn’t help it. You couldn’t help but be turned on when a big strong man insults you.

Ghost was starting to notice. There’s no way he wouldn’t, but he just thought you couldn’t take the heat. He was starting to feel a little bad. It looked like you were in the brink of tears.

“You alright?”