Chapter 1
During military training, the craving for touch hit me, and I went looking for my childhood friend, Chaim Espinoza.
Instead, I saw him leaning lazily against a tree, letting the poor student he supported stand on tiptoe and kiss him.
When she pulled away, her eyes were red, her voice soft and tentative. "If we do this... what if your fiancée finds out?"
Chaim chuckled quietly. "Then don't tell her. Besides, even if Nicole knew, she wouldn't make a fuss. She's always been considerate."
I clenched my fingers and walked away without a sound.
Later, I was sitting in the school king's arms, clutching my dress, when Chaim saw us.
His eyes turned red as he questioned, "What are you two... to each other?"
My lips curved into a gentle smile.
I thought for a moment, then answered seriously, "He and I are just friends."
"Chaim," I added softly, "be good now. Don't make a scene."
*****
My skin, starved for touch, felt dry, itchy, and tingly, so uncomfortable it was almost unbearable.
But I didn't go looking for Chaim Espinoza again.
I hugged my knees and curled up under a big tree, far from the crowd, hoping it would help me feel a little better.
But my head just got fuzzier and fuzzier.
Until the sweet, heady scent of roses filled the air around me.
Suddenly, I was wrapped up in a refreshingly cool hug.
Chaim pressed a damp towel to my forehead, frowning in concern.
He asked, "How long have you been feeling this way? Why didn't you come to me?"
I didn't say a word.
His lips were pressed into a thin line, and his military training uniform was a little damp.
Even the hot breeze felt humid as it passed by.
Whenever my condition acted up, heat would spread through my body like wildfire. In the past, Chaim would always dampen his clothes in advance so I could cling to him more comfortably.
But this time, I refused.
I turned my face away and slipped out of his arms.
"Don't touch me," I said.
He let out a quiet sigh, clearly at a loss. "Training starts soon. If you don't cool down, you'll get in trouble. Come on, Nicole, behave. Don't be difficult."
He looked as gentle and composed as ever, without a trace of irritation. His clear eyes stayed fixed on me, as if nothing else in the world existed.
I lifted my chin and stared back at him.
I couldn't understand it.
How could he be so tender with me, yet still kiss other girls behind my back?
His clothes still carried her perfume.
I had always been spoiled, willful, dramatic, and used to being indulged by him since childhood. I knew exactly how to act pitiful to get my way.
Whenever my symptoms flared, I would deliberately make a scene just to watch him panic over me.
Then I would curl back into his arms, pretending to be obedient and sweet.
I never wanted those moments to end.
I would either tug at his buttons or wrinkle his tie.
He never stopped me. If his clothes were ruined, he would simply change. Even in winter, if I was around, he always carried cold packs with him.
Last month, when I traveled abroad with my best friend and my symptoms suddenly worsened, Chaim took the earliest flight overnight just to reach me.
Montelune was freezing.
He didn't even have time to pack a thicker coat. He stayed by my bedside for three days and nights without leaving.
I cried until his only shirt was soaked, yet he never complained—he just stayed silently beside me.
But now, everything was different.
His camouflage uniform was still immaculate. But Chaim himself no longer felt clean to me.
The campus convenience store stood not far behind us.
Students passed by occasionally, throwing curious glances in our direction.
I curled into myself, shivering despite the heat.
Chaim frowned, adjusting me so I leaned against his leg. He bent forward slightly, using his tall frame to shield me from view.
"Don't be scared. They can't see you," he said softly.
Lowering his head, his Adam's apple moved subtly. "If you're uncomfortable, just hold onto me."
His body radiated intense warmth even through the fabric, his scent overwhelming, pure heat and masculine energy.
I should have pushed him away.
But every inch of me craved that warmth, as if my body no longer obeyed my will.
I felt miserable, yet all I wanted was to be wrapped in his arms.
He brought this on himself.
Once I was done using him, I'd just kick him to the curb.
With that excuse in mind, I finally reached out, looping my slender arms around his waist.
That was when I noticed something was wrong.
His heartbeat was racing unnaturally fast, and his hands on my back were rigid.
I tilted my head up, confused.
He wasn't looking at me at all, his gaze was fixed somewhere to my right.
I followed his line of sight.
The girl he had been helping earlier was standing there, her eyes swollen and red.
She bit her injured lip nervously and took a tentative step closer.
She stammered, "Chaim... I'm sorry. I didn't mean to interrupt. I just thought if I didn't come now, I might not get another chance to see you."
She hesitated, then continued softly, "The instructor said we have to form groups. The ones who march well should help those who keep messing up. I'm terrible at coordination... I keep tripping. Chaim, could you be in my group? Please?"