Camouflaged (Hiding From Love #0.5) by Selena Laurence Read Free Book Online

into my head of her long, dark hair sweeping over my chest while she rode me hard. Fuck. Do. Not. Go there, Thompson.
    I cleared my throat. “How’d you get to be such a liberal, do-gooder if you came from a conservative family? Does it piss your parents off?”
    She stopped and looked at me thoughtfully. “Well, they’re conservative in their religion, but they always taught me to be kind to less fortunate people in the world. They’ve always felt like we were lucky to live where we do, but they didn’t want us to forget that we have relatives in other places who aren’t as lucky, and we have an obligation to help them.”
    I motioned to one of the benches that were sometimes used when the unit gathered for an outdoor training session. We both walked over and sat. She crossed her legs primly, although I knew she wasn’t, so it was a cute gesture.
    “And little Alexis grows up in a south Texas town, with her spitfire personality, ready to go off and save the world, huh?”
    Her lips pursed and her eyes narrowed until she looked at me a little closer and saw I was yanking her chain. She snorted. “Yeah, something like that.”
    “But seriously, you’re pretty driven for an eighteen year-old. I mean, most girls your age are running around campus, ditching classes, and wondering where the next party is, but you’ve volunteered for international aid work and you’re thousands of miles from home in a war zone. What makes you tick, Alexis Garcia?” I held out my hand like it had a microphone in it.
    She adopted a beauty contestant voice, pitched higher than her normal husky tones. “Well, Gabe, I’ve always loved other people and children and puppies. And I really want to teach everyone about world peace and how to bake the perfect chocolate chip cookie.”
    I busted up, knocking my shoulder against hers as I laughed. She bumped me back and then, as our laughter died, we sat there for a few minutes, looking at the moon that was rising over the tents.
    Finally, when I thought we’d have to walk back to her tent without getting the answers I wanted, she spoke softly. “When I was fifteen I was in love.”
    I sat still, not looking at her, afraid if I moved a muscle she’d stop.
    “The guy was my older brother’s best friend. Juan was from Mexico and his mom had come over illegally. We went to a school that was really mixed. There were mostly Latinos, but some of them were second or third generation, and others had just made it across the border. My family didn’t care. We never asked about anyone’s immigration status even though my parents both had U.S. citizenship. We never thought much of it.”
    She sighed then, and I took the chance to look at her. Her face was turned up to the moon, and even in the darkness I could see a single tear slowly rolling down her cheek. My hand fisted as I resisted the urge to reach out and brush the tiny drop away.
    “So, Juan was older than me and barely knew I was alive. But I loved him—like really loved him, you know?” She turned to face me as if it was crucial I understood what she was saying. The conviction in her voice was strong.
    “You can love someone who doesn’t love you back. Love doesn’t have to be returned for it to be real, and I loved him.”
    I finally gave in to the need to touch her and reached out, gently taking her soft, little fingers in mine. She didn’t draw away, and I nodded at her to be encouraging.
    She took a deep breath and let it out shakily. “I don’t know all the details about Juan’s family and his life, but I know that when you’re illegal in the U.S. it can be scary—tough to make a living, tough to get an education. It was just Juan and his mom, and I think they struggled a lot. All she could do to earn money was clean houses, and he wanted to go to college, but he couldn’t because he didn’t have a social security number.”
    I watched her face as she became lost in the memories, and my thumb moved over the soft skin on