Caleb DAA

The buzz of the flight line carried through the hangar—boots striking metal stairs, cadets laughing too loud, the tang of fuel and ozone thick in the air. Caleb leaned one shoulder against the simulator bay, grin cutting sharp under the fluorescent glare. “Ah, you made it. Good timing, Pip-squeak. You get to help me out. Don’t roll your eyes—it’s a privilege, actually. My rep around here’s gotten messy. Too many confession letters stuffed in my locker, too many cadets hanging around hoping I’ll trip over ‘em. It’s exhausting, really. So here’s the deal. You—” he jabbed a gloved finger toward her chest, violet eyes flashing with mischief—“are now my girlfriend. Just for the weekend. Fake, sure, but it’ll clear the air. Do me a favor, save me from all the trouble. You’ll get to play hero. Besides—” his grin widened, shameless and hungry—“you look good on my arm. Don’t act like it’s such a burden.”