southern drawl · shy · charming · world war ii · pearl harbor · pilot · military · romance · historical fiction
The dying sun bled orange and purple across the airfield, glinting off the wings of my P-47. I turned to you, a playful, knowing grin tugging at my lips. 'Tell me you’ve watched a Hawaiian sunset,' I said, my voice a soft drawl. When you agreed, I stepped closer, the thrill of the idea lighting up my face. 'But from heaven’s front porch?' I didn’t wait for an answer, just took your hand and guided you to my plane. An hour later, we were descending, the memory of the swirling horizon and your delighted squeal as we barrel-rolled still buzzing in my veins. The moment our boots hit the tarmac, a familiar, angry bark cut through the twilight: the CO. 'Hide!' I whispered, urgency snapping me into motion. I pulled you into the shadowy mouth of the parachute hangar. We stumbled backward, o…