iv. THE FINE ART
OF BULLSHIT

MASTERS OF THE AIR
AMOR VINCIT OMNIA

————— —————

EAST ANGLIA
DAY LATER

|| THE MORNING SKY UNVEILED ITSELF WITH PRISTINE CLARITY—mirroring the tranquil surface of a crystal-clear lake. Celeste exuded an exhilaration that transcended mere joy as she relished in not having the burden of finding gasoline or the strain of walking. All credit was due to Egan's towering self-ego—always driven by his relentless pursuit of victory.

So brimming with contentment, Celeste pedaled gracefully along the gravel pathways—gliding past the picturesque rows of verdant fields devoted to farming. At such hour, she was summoned to rendezvous with the adept mechanics—a directive stemming from Colonel Harold Huglin's insistence the day prior for her to resume her tutelage in mechanics.

The sun had yet to ascend fully above the horizon, casting a resplendent palette of yellows and golds upon the sprawling,  new assortment of B-17's lining the airfield—ones from Cleven's group. Surely it was nice to see him once again, and Egan was over the moon as always.

On reaching the designated meeting spot, a group of children clustered around the mechanics. Two young boys, one sporting a mop of blonde locks promptly known as Sammy and the other with lustrous brunette tresses, was Billy. Both appeared to encircle the youthful Corporal, bombarding him with a deluge of inquiries and musings.

Amidst the scene, a duo of diminutive girls immersed themselves in a whimsical game—partaking in an animated exchange with a plush teddy bear. Their melodious voices interwoven in a harmonious lullaby that resonated with reminiscences of youths in a distant land of China. These reverberations brought forth visions of those unyielding spirits who steadfastly clung to optimism and flourished.

Leaning her bicycle against a stack of crates, the soft thud it produced served as a signal of her presence. Internally, she cursed herself as she became the focal point of everyone's attention. In an instant, the young boys redirected their gazes towards her, forsaking their pursuits to congregate around her like a group of eager fighter jets. "Are you a pilot?" Sammy's inquiry dripped with zealous anticipation.

"Have you ever manned a bomber?" Billy's remark echoed his lively movements akin to the inexhaustible energy that could fuel a small village. Celeste couldn't help but release a laugh at their fervor—extending her hands in a placating gesture.

"Yes, I am a pilot, but my role is a bit different from what you might be used to," she replied with a hint of mischief, accompanied by a sly wink. The blonde boy furrowed his brows in thought for a moment before a realization lit up his face.

"So, it was you up there in those big planes." he exclaimed proudly, pointing towards the C-47s in the distance. Celeste simply nodded in acknowledgment, bracing herself for the impending barrage of questions.

Amidst the commotion, Lemmons, already assembled the necessary supplies—led the way to the B-17. "Alright, everyone, get on now. There's work to be done," he called in a playful tone—flashing a warm smile as the John ushered them away.

Observing him in person, the young man bore a striking contrast to the descriptions she had learned about the officers and mechanics who managed the facility. With a stature that belied his mere 19 years, Ken Lemmons was a figure to be reckoned with in Thorpe Abbots. His youthful visage masked a depth of knowledge and skill beyond his age, especially when it came to overseeing aircraft operations.

Colonel Huglin, recognizing his exceptional talent, entrusted him with the task of acquainting Celeste with the intricacies of mechanical engineering on B-17 bombers.
She, already well-versed in the nuances of C-47s and P-40 Warhawks, found herself under the tutelage of him.

Colonel Huglin believed that Celeste's existing training was inadequate. Thus she was tasked with the complexities of the famed B-17, Angel Kiss - tail number 42-3389. Despite its storied past, the bomber lay grounded, irreparably damaged and relegated to serve as a training ground for aspiring engineers.

"Good morning, Corporal Lemmons." Celeste greeted him with a soft voice, extending her hand in a gesture of camaraderie. "I am Chief Leader Jefferson," As the weight of her lineage, known for its prestige, settled on his shoulders, Lemmons felt momentarily tongue-tied.

Suppressing a surge of nerves, he reciprocated the handshake, his cheeks betraying a delicate flush. "Your name precedes you," he managed to convey, a hint of admiration coloring his words.

Celeste bowed slightly in approval before speaking, " Well shall we?" As both grappled with the stubborn release of the panel beneath engine two, a palpable tension filled the air. Celeste, brandishing a stout pry bar, deftly utilized the circular wheel as a fulcrum to apply her considerable strength.

With a final, concerted effort, the hatch surrendered with a resounding clang, prompting a sigh of relief from Celeste. Before she nonchalantly returned the tool to its designated spot in the toolbox.

Rejoining the scene, Lemmons emerged with a clipboard and pencil in hand, indicating towards the damaged bearings nestled inside for Celeste's expert scrutiny. "One of these bearings has sheared off, causing the malfunction," he elucidated, his voice trailing off as he awaited her reaction. Annoyed, Celeste curtly retorted, "It won't power up."

Acknowledging her statement with a nod, Lemmons made a notation in his records before refocusing on the diagnostic task at hand. Following a brief pause, Celeste unzipped her weathered leather jacket, embellished with the whimsical "French Kiss" nose art patch on the right breast. She delicately folded the jacket before gingerly placing it on a stack of spare pellets—revealing her reluctance to soil the cherished garment.

Seeking Lemmons' silent approval, Celeste adeptly maneuvered into the mechanical cavity, capitalizing on her slight build to navigate the tight space with ease. Lemmons, assuming a vantage point on the wheel—ensuring oversight of the operation without fully immersing himself in the intricate interior workings.

Celeste held the petite wrench delicately, embarking on meticulous endeavor of turning it with utmost care and precision. The similarities between the B-17 and C-47 aircraft in terms of mechanics were glaringly apparent to her keen eyes. Perhaps the C-47 was slightly easier due to her extensive knowledge of it.

A soft grunt escaped her lips as she applied more pressure on the tool, only for it to unexpectedly slip from her grip. An audible sigh of frustration slipped as she muttered under her breath, words laced with exasperation, " That damn colonel, thinking he knows everything..."

Reasserting her hold on the wrench, sweat barely breached the skin of her neck as the bearings seemed to fight back. Lemmons, stood patiently by underneath, voice resonated with tranquility and confidence. "You are nearly there, Chief. Apply a tad more force," he encouraged with confidence in his tone.

As Celeste twisted the wrench with determination, the joyous laughter of children outside crept into the area, their gleeful voices bouncing off the metallic walls. "I got it!" exclaimed one child ecstatically. Shortly followed by a higher-pitched voice declaring, "That's my teddy bear!" The girl's voice, slightly flawed in articulating the letter 'T', added to the chorus.

Amidst the task at hand, Celeste found herself pushing forth a grin at the innocent sounds— a small glimmer of warmth amidst the cold, metallic surroundings.

Lemmons noticed her expression and chuckled softly. "They always find a way to brighten up the place, don't they?" he remarked, his eyes crinkling at the corners. Grateful for the break in monotony, Celeste nodded in agreement.

And after what felt like an eternity of struggle, the bearings finally succumbed, prompting Celeste to release a sigh of relief. With a swipe of her brow, she turned to Lemmons, a wave of triumph washing over her. He merely nodded in reassurance like a proud father. However, her elation was short-lived; smiling was not a common occurrence in Celeste's demeanor, and her frustration quickly resurfaced.

Noting the smaller nuts lower, she exhaled loudly, "Could someone pass me the smallest wrench, please?" Muttering impatiently before wiping away the sweat from her forehead. Slowly lowering herself, she braced against the wheel once more. Sammy hurried to her aid, presenting the requested tool before she could even bend down.

"Thank you, kind sir," Celeste remarked, infused with a playful tone—causing both Billy and Sammy to jump with joy and gleefully salute her. But her features slowly turned to grimace upon noticing his right hand was missing.

Lemmons affectionately patted the boy on the shoulder, gesturing for him and Billy to rejoin the others. As Celeste watched them, the corporal felt it best to redirect her attention. "I thought this aircraft would suit you best, considering the similarity in names," the corporal whispered softly, directing his gaze solely on Celeste. "I did notice that, thank you," she replied with a faint semblance of a smile before completely immersing herself back into the mechanical labyrinth.

"She's a sight to behold, despite her worn appearance," Celeste half-heartedly joked, her voice slightly muffled by the metallic enclosure. Lemmons grinned, propping himself against the tire and watching Celeste work with admiration. "There is magnificence in all things," he mused softly, his words carrying a weight that resonated with the solemnity of the moment. "Even in their brokenness." Celeste, now sporting oil-stained hands and fading demeanor—felt a pang in her chest.

For a fleeting moment, entranced by the corporal's philosophical musings, fought to keep her heavy eyelids from closing in reminisce. She fixed her gaze on the worn metal surface before her. With a quiet yet poignant acknowledgment, she sniffled, "Yeah..." before slowly returning to her tasks.

In the awkward silence, Lemmons felt it best to begin rummaging through the tool kit. But was startled by the sound of an approaching engine. Swiftly looking up, he locked eyes with a woman dressed in the distinguished attire of the RAF. She carried an air of confidence as she stopped in the American jeep just inches feet from him.

Rene, with her sparkling cerulean eyes alive with the promise of adventure, greeted the corporal with a familiarity that hinted at a shared history. "Well, well, well, if it isn't Corporal Lemmons," she purred, her playful smile causing the young man to stumble over his words.

Accustomed to the solitary company of aircraft adorned with elaborate pin-up art, he found himself momentarily disoriented by the vivacity of a real-life enchantress standing before him.

Before Lemmons could gather his thoughts, Rene, ever the charismatic conversationalist, interjected, "Hey there, Jefferson, is that your ride over there?" Her gaze wandered towards a solitary bicycle leaning against a stack of crates, but Celeste remained steadfast in her task—diligently working on the stubborn nuts that resisted her efforts. The clinking of tools mingled with the distant hum of grumbles and crude words.

But that was until a horn sounded out, and then another. As the echoing call of a horn reverberated through the air, jolting Celeste from her work, she straightened up and peered out from under the hatch. Her gaze fell upon a familiar figure, and a wry smile tugged at the corners of her lips.

"Ah, Rene, I see it's your mischievous self causing the ruckus," she quipped, a playful wink accompanying her words. "So, what brings you here? I highly doubt it's my captivating beauty or the charm of my boys."

Fully emerging from the depths, a furrow creased Celeste's brow as she paused—her gaze searching the area. "Speaking of my boys, have you seen them? Not a sound from them all morning." She glanced around expectantly, as if hoping they would materialize out of thin air.

Rene scoffed lightly, "It wasn't my turn to babysit," she paused, " But I believe they're causing havoc with the other lads from the 100th." A faint smile tugged at the corners of her lips as she rested her arm on the steering wheel. "Of course they are." Celeste muttered, she feared that Jackson's transfer would halt her seeing them as much.

"On a more serious note, Major Egan has tasked me with fetching you in this fine automobile," she added, tapping the vehicle's door. At the mention of Major Egan, Celeste let out an exaggerated eye roll, though a fleeting emotion she couldn't quite place coursed through her veins.

This mixture of exasperation and something else flickered across her features. She quickly reached for a rag atop a nearby crate, vigorously wiping the grease from her forehead—the strain in her movements revealing a deeper tension brewing within her.

Rene tilted her head slightly, eyes twinkling with mischief, as she met Celeste's gaze. "So are we going to talk about last night? About this major?" Her words danced in the air, laced with a hint of intrigue, causing Celeste to arch a skeptical brow in response.

Without missing a beat, Rene's lips curved into a sly smile, her brows performing a subtle—teasing dance of ascent and descent. Celeste tossed a soiled cloth in a playful yet deliberate manner towards the direction of Rene's porcelain complexion. The fabric made contact with a soft thud, eliciting a mock gag from Rene— before she deposited it with a matter-of-fact air. "No, I believe it is best left untouched," she retorted coolly, her focus shifting to a worn wrench in need of attention.

Rene, however, was not deterred. "Oh, Celeste, don't be a spoil-sport. I crave more details, i found him quite cute," she insisted, a playful glint shimmering in her eyes. The retort was swift as Celeste's gaze hardened. "Then why did you not initiate a conversation with him? My knowledge regarding him is scarce." she fired back, her hands deftly selecting another tool from the nearby box.

A furrow formed between Rene's brows as she processed Celeste's words. "You certainly have a way of dampening the mood," she remarked, her tone a blend of amusement and mild exasperation. Celeste's response was loaded with conviction as she exhaled sharply, the sound echoing through the space.

"There are pressing matters of greater significance demanding our attention at this very moment. Investing energy in unraveling Egan seems rather frivolous in comparison," she declared, her words resonating with a sense of gravity that left Rene momentarily silenced.

But before either could reply, the commotion beside the bird had grown tenfold. What started as an innocence play, now turned taunting. Sam held the teddy bear over the girl's head—her pleas for the beloved toy ringing out amidst the chaos. The scene unfolded before her—-potent mix of frustration at the escalating voices that surrounded.

Celeste winced at the piercing cacophony, the once playful screams of children slowly twisted into desperate cries for help. the menacing cacophony of roaring aircraft engines and authoritative voices— sending shivers down her spine. In the midst of this tumult, a wave of agony surged through her mind, compelling her to instinctively press her hands against her throbbing temples.

Lemmons, attuned to her distress, rushed to her side, inquiring anxiously, "Is everything okay?" Celeste managed only a pained grunt before composing herself, gently pushing the corporal aside. "I'll be fine, just vexed by the challenging bearings and Colonel Huglin."

The other mechanic, John, rebuked the impulsive boy, with Rene promptly joining in the reprimand. Acting swiftly, the young blonde wrested the toy bear from the boy's grasp and handed it over to the distraught girl. Tears had begun their descent down her flushed cheeks, but halted abruptly—akin to a clogged conduit. Celeste regarded the girl with empathetic eyes, a sentiment not lost on Rene.

Casting a comforting pat on the girl's back, she introduced, "This is Miss Sammie. She is the daughter of a RAF captain stationed here." Sammie smiled, squeezing her bear tighter. " Pleasure to make your acquaintance, dear," Celeste murmured softly, before continuing to cleanse herself—merely glazing over what had just happened to her. Rene said her final goodbyes to Lemmons and the girl before following in suit of Celeste.

In the midst of a pregnant pause, Rene hesitated before responding, shooting a subtle glance towards Celeste. "Are you certain you are feeling well?" she probed, but the brunette remained icy towards her inquiries. With a swift swipe at her arms, Celeste scrunched her forehead, pivoting abruptly to face Rene. "Why should I go to him? If it's truly pressing, he may come to me," she retorted, disdain obvious as she flung the rag haphazardly into the crate.

Just as she was about to immerse herself back into the mechanical task at hand, Celeste abruptly halted, pivoting on her heel. "And that bike will not return to him. I rightfully earned it," she proclaimed—jabbing a resolute finger in Rene's direction.

"It wasn't his directive; Colonel Huglin issued the order," Rene responded sheepishly, casting a feeble smile. She loathed uttering such words, especially after witnessing the unfortunate fate suffered by her comrade. But Celeste's countenance turned grave at the mere mention of the commander, her eyelid twitching slightly, hands clenched. Despite her inclination to continue with her duties, disobedience was not an option. "Fine, but first deliver me to the officer's quarters. I have to prepare myself," Celeste stated before leaping into the jeep.

Shortly thereafter, Celeste found herself standing before Colonel Harold Huglin's office. She had meticulously freshened up and attired herself appropriately for the occasion. There was no way she was letting that colonel get a hold upon her. She had smoothed down her tousled locks, attempting to secure them alongside her neatly styled ones with a touch of finesse.

In her graceful stride down the grand corridors, Celeste finally reached the prestigious chamber reserved for the exclusive meetings orchestrated by Colonel Huglin. His countenance, as customary, bore a visage of profound irritation, manifested through the intricate network of wrinkles that adorned his weathered skin over the years. Adjacent to him, a delicate glass of milk stood while an imposing stack of paperwork sprawled before him.

"Ah, Chief Leader Jefferson, your arrival is long overdue," he muttered with a sardonic undertone—his lips forming thin lines as he took a measured sip from his glass. In response, she emitted a profound sigh, conveying her exasperation in a subtle manner. Meeting his unwavering gaze, Celeste curved a knowing smile on her lips, infusing her words with a touch of well-calibrated sarcasm. "My sincerest apologies, Colonel. Rest assured, it shan't happen again." She tilted her head slightly to the side, maintaining her direct gaze.

As she tentatively grazed the top of the chair with her fingertips, her eyes discerned Major Egan's presence in the room. Seated nonchalantly to one side, his hat rested elegantly upon his left knee—an implicit acknowledgment of the reprimand directed upon his features. Celeste's gaze hardened, her eyes narrowing into focused slits as she clenched her teeth. Somehow Egan seemed to be appearing everywhere she went. Out of everyone, it had to be him..

The colonel's steely gaze bore into her as she spoke in a voice that brooked no argument, "I would prefer to converse in a more refined manner." "Sit down." His tone left no room for negotiation as he continued. It was sharp, cutting through the air like a knife.

As the colonel directed his full attention towards Celeste, Egan noticed a flicker of something in her eyes - a glimpse of the fire that burned within her."It appears that the major requires a brief refresher on the proper decorum and etiquette when engaging with a superior officer. And who better to demonstrate such respect than the esteemed daughter of Colonel James Jefferson."

Major Egan's curiosity piqued upon her father's full name before him. Surely, he had heard it last night at bar through the angered tones of Celeste. But now, it was all come back —of the names and faces he had memorized whilst back in Texas. He had seen her father, matter of fact, meant him in the mere flesh. God, she held a canny resemblance to her father, yet still held a semblance of her mother.

Gingerly, Egan extended a hand towards the chair, As Celeste held a straight line for lips, his eyes studying her intently. Celeste maintained a stoic expression, her lips forming a thin line devoid of emotion. With a clenched jaw and cautious glances, Celeste reluctantly accepted the offered seat—quite puzzled by the abrupt shift in Huglin's demeanor from hostility to kindness.

As Celeste settled into her chair, her posture rigid and composed, Major Egan lounged casually in his seat. The room brimmed with an unspoken tension as the dynamics between the trio played out in a delicate dance of power and perception.

Celeste's chest constricted the moment she noticed her folder placed before the colonel. Her hand clenched into a tight fist as he delved into her paperwork. "Well, chief leader, it appears you find yourself in quite the quagmire," he remarked, pausing midway through shuffling the myriad of documents before meeting Celeste's gaze. "You require more hours in the B-17, and..." His eyes then shifted to Egan. "And I advise you to refrain from any talk of demotion and instead glean insights from her performance."

Though Celeste yearned to savor the rare chance to outshine Egan once more, a surge of indignation overtook her swiftly—a primal urge rising to clock him in his arrogant jaw. How dare he belittle her achievements? Countless grueling hours endured in the scorching Texan sun, clad from head to toe in flight equipment, squeezed into a cramped cockpit – she had logged just as many hours as any of the male counterparts.

"Sir, with all respect due, I have amassed sufficient flight experience during my tenure in Texas. Why..." Huglin abruptly slammed his glass onto the desk, milk splattering over its brim.

"In the event we need more ships, we will require someone to transport them across the channel from Greenland," Colonel Huglin's words hung heavy in the air, emphasizing the weight of the decision that was about to be made.

Celeste rivaled even the most seasoned pilots, felt her heart sink as she processed the implications of the colonel's directive. "I was under the impression that I was here to train young pilots and provide essential support in the C-47 over war-torn areas," Celeste spoke with a hint of defiance, her gaze unwavering as she tried to make sense of the sudden shift in plans.

Colonel Huglin, a stern man with a reputation for his unyielding adherence to regulations, produced a letter and placed it on the table before her. His next words only added to Celeste's growing frustration.

"Yes, but I have made it clear that you are not to fly over occupied territories. It is simply too perilous, especially for a woman," Colonel Huglin's tone brooked no argument as he reinforced his decision. Her astonishment was palpable as the weight of Huglin's words settled in.

Celeste's mind flashed back to her past missions, where she had navigated through enemy fire and evaded enemy fighters over Japanese-occupied territories. The thought of being grounded even in neutral zones seemed like an unjust limitation on her abilities as a pilot.

Her eyes briefly skimmed over the contents of the letter, Yet Celeste stood unfazed—her experience in the skies a testament to her capabilities far beyond the limitations imposed by societal norms. If she was to be held back, what fate awaited her loyal crew members, who had stood by her side through countless dangerous missions?

"And what about my men? Frankie, Ben, Arnie, and Robert? You've already taken Jackson..." Celeste's voice carried a note of concern for her comrades, her hands clenched tightly in front of her as she awaited a response.

Colonel Huglin exchanged a glance with Egan, the two men sharing a silent communication before the colonel addressed Celeste once more.

"Well, I was not informed of Jackson," Colonel Huglin admitted before continuing, "But the four others will accompany you on the B-17 flight." Celeste's heart lifted slightly at the mention of her crew joining on the mission..a flicker of hope rekindling within. Maybe there was still a chance to prove herself over again in the skies, to soar above the limitations that threatened to clip her wings.

As Egan listened to the colonel's words dripping with insincerity, he couldn't help but view them with skepticism. Dismissing the colonel's verbose remarks with a derisive snort. Celeste shot him a perplexed and irritated glance—wondering if he was merely pretending indifference to stage a theatrical performance.

Locking eyes with Celeste, Egan adjusted himself in the chair—his hands resting calmly on his thighs. "Sir," he began anew, "As far as my understanding goes, Jefferson and her unit engaged in combat in China to reclaim seized territory. How does that differ from the situation here?" Celeste's expression shifted gradually from irritation to gratitude. A warmth buzzed gradually through veins listening to this major take her side.

It seemed Jackson had been doing some more talking. Huglin's countenance turned stoic, his intense gaze boring into Egan. A heavy silence filled the room as the colonel took a deliberate sip from his glass of milk. The clink of the glass meeting the wooden tabletop signaled his response, "Major Egan," the colonel's voice was measured, "There is nothing you can say that will sway my decision regarding your deployment."

With a slight cough, Huglin begins, "We will start training in the next days, when the bombers lead by Cleven return on June 25th. Of course, there is no one better fit than myself to train you. So I will prepare." Celeste zoned out slightly, her eyes dulling.

Egan perked up at the opportunity, to once soar through the air again and to be in close proximity of Jefferson. "I have a proposal." He started, fixing his cap, " You say I need to get with the program, so how about I train her?" Huglin passed a glare at the major—his fingers slowly tapping against the table. "Major, I do not believe..." he is abruptly cut off, " Sir, pardon my interruption, but I am air exec... is that not what you said?" Egan remarked with a knowing smile.

Celeste found herself in a mental tug-of-war, grappling with the dilemma of whether it was worse to be confined in a cramped cockpit with a close-minded colonel or an overly confident major. She would have rather thrown herself in front of a speeding truck than endure another moment with Egan.

Huglin clicked his tongue contemplatively, the sound echoing in the silence of the room. "Very well... the training will commence at 1400 hours on June 25th," he announced with an air of detachment, swiftly flipping through documents before closing both folders with a resolute snap.

Celeste's countenance shifted, her demeanour suddenly more assertive. "Sir, I..." she began, only to be interrupted with a curt, "Dismissed," as Huglin shot her a cutting glance that lingered with unspoken reproach.

It was a tense moment, one that spurred Celeste to rise to her feet promptly, eager to exit the confines of the office and put an end to the uncomfortable conversation. Egan, more composed, rose slowly, and both officers executed a crisp salute to the imposing colonel.

As they made their way to the door, the major was the first to reach it, but Celeste abruptly pushed past him, her expression a mix of frustration and defiance. Stepping out into the open air, she briskly adjusted her officer's cap, muttering displeasure under her breath as Egan followed suit, maintaining his calm demeanor as they left the headquarters and entered the muddy surroundings beyond.

Outside, the landscape was a flurry of activity; farmers toiled in the fields as geese and ducks waddled about, indifferent to the military presence. Egan's eyes fell upon his bicycle propped against a nearby wall, and with a sense of purpose, he strode towards it. Mentally patting himself on the back for getting yet another chance to get her name.

Celeste came to an abrupt stop, her keen eye catching the distinct imprints of a jeep on the muddy terrain. It dawned on her that she had overlooked retrieving her own bicycle from the airfield. A hint of annoyance crept over her as she bit her lower lip, realizing the inevitable: a lengthy trek back to the officer's quarters—a good 20 minutes away. Just as she resigned herself to the trek, Major Egan pedaled past her, swiftly pulling a brake to circle back towards her.

"Well, well, if it isn't Miss Jefferson," the Major announced with a smirk, though a belch escaped—likely a remnant of the previous night's revelry. Celeste couldn't help but roll her eyes, barely stifling a scoff at his lack of manners. "So lady-like," she quipped sarcastically before continuing on her way—pressing on pass him.

Egan chuckled boisterously, attempting to turn his bicycle around. "Seems like you've found yourself in a bit of a predicament," he teased, finally managing to set the bike in motion by pushing off the ground.

"I see you've decided to share a bike with Cleven?" Celeste shot back, her tone laced with sarcasm as she walked with dignified strides. Egan matched her pace, his bicycle moving at a leisurely speed as they strolled side by side.

In a display of smug confidence, Egan flashed that conceited grin once more—casually resting his arm upon his waist. "Maybe we will," he remarked, his gaze roaming appreciatively over her slender figure. "Or perhaps," he started, nudging the bike forward a bit, "you could be the first to accompany me here." Indicating the rear of the bike.

Celeste's rebuff to the audacious proposal was dripping with disdain. The mere thought of acquiescing seemed as appealing as binding herself to him like a vine tenderly grasping a sturdy tree trunk. With a wry twist to her lips, she fired back, "I'd sooner welcome a serpent into my embrace than subject myself to the farce of sharing a bicycle with you." Her retort cut through the air like a well-aimed arrow, leaving the major momentarily wounded, feigning a dramatic blow to his heart.

However, he was not one to take rejection lightly. Ignoring her biting remark, Egan nonchalantly began to weave a tapestry of loops with his bicycle around Celeste, transforming the scene into a whimsical ballet of pursuit. Yet, instead of softening her demeanor, each round only stoked the fires of her vexation. The sight of him circling felt akin to a persistent sheepdog nudging a stubborn sheep along its path.

As Celeste stood her ground, arms folded and jaw set, a glint of amusement danced in her eyes. Despite her stoic facade, she couldn't help but be entertained by the lengths he was willing to go to impress her. Their silent exchange was a dance of wills, with Egan encircling her like a gallant knight on wheels, determined to win her favor through sheer persistence.

Celeste, unimpressed but intrigued, decided to play along, a mischievous scheme formulating in her mind. Onlookers, a group of elderly ladies, chuckled at Egan's clumsy flirting efforts to capture Celeste's attention.

Her gaze met his as he came to a stop, her eyes holding a mysterious glint that sent a shiver down his spine, her lips curved in a knowing smile that seemed to speak volumes. A flicker of hope ignited within him, a hope he had been nurturing silently for months.

As Celeste closed the distance between them, a surge of anticipation washed over Egan. Could this be the moment where she finally reciprocated his feelings? Lost in the depths of his infatuation, the major failed to notice the subtle movement of Celeste's foot as she slyly extended it into his path.

Entranced by her charm, he unwittingly steered his bicycle straight into her trap. The front wheel grazed Celeste's foot with precision—which sent Egan tumbling to the ground in a noisy, undignified heap.

Celeste's chuckle rang out, melodious and bright, her emerald eyes sparkling with amusement. The unexpected turn of events left Egan feeling a mixture of embarrassment and admiration for Celeste's playful yet cunning nature. He had always been the one to charm the ladies, but in that moment, she had effortlessly turned the tables—leaving him at her mercy. The major, holding a sly grin, couldn't help but feel a newfound respect for this pilot's wit and charm—even if it came at his own expense.

As Celeste gazed at the abandoned bicycle, she swiftly righted it from him before gracefully settling herself on the seat. "Major Egan, your contribution to the war is invaluable. I am grateful," she expressed with determination, her hands firmly gripping the handlebars. With a sharp salute to the fallen Major, she propelled herself forward with a powerful push from her foot.

"That's my bicycle!" Egan exclaimed, his voice filled with a mix of surprise and amusement as he struggled to rise. "Fear not, I shall return it post my training," Celeste replied cheerfully. "Consider it temporarily borrowed," she added with a mischievous glint in her eye, before disappearing into the horizon.

As Major Egan delicately brushed off the dirt and debris from his coat, a newfound respect bloomed within him for Celeste's cunning and evasive tactics. Retrieving his dashing cap from the ground, he gave it a swift tap against his thigh to rid it of any lingering dust before settling it back on his head with a sense of purpose.

In that moment of contemplation, a realization dawned upon Major Egan that his pursuit of Celeste's affections required a more strategic and thoughtful approach. His heart, usually steadfast and resolute, now beat with a newfound rhythm, harmonizing with the perplexing enigma that was Celeste.

Observing the Major's stoic posture, one of the older ladies from the nearby group couldn't resist a teasing remark. Stepping forward with a knowing glint in her eye, she proceeded to dust off Major Egan's back with a well-worn rag, pausing to impart her wisdom amidst the jovial laughter that surrounded them.

"Worry not, young lad," she began, her voice carrying a hint of amusement. "That one is quite the story, a puzzle wrapped in mystery and tied with a bow of mischief."

Her words, though kind in nature, were accompanied by a chorus of chuckles from the gathered crowd, their amusement bubbling forth like a lively brook meandering through a sunlit meadow. The older lady, her gaze twinkling with mirth, added with a mischievous wink, "Oh, she's a difficult one to understand, but every gentleman fancies himself as the one to unravel her secrets."

Undeterred by the amused whispers and knowing glances exchanged around him, Major Egan merely adjusted his tie back into its proper position with a confident demeanor. With a subtle tilt of his head and a charming smile playing upon his lips, he remarked in a tone laced with determination, "Oh we will see about that. I shall win her heart."

Yet, as the old woman's laughter echoed through the gathering, filling the air with a sense of whimsy and intrigue, she cast a knowing gaze upon Major Egan and uttered words that carried the weight of experience. "Oh, yes, my dear Major. Only you and about twenty others have uttered the same words of conquest and devotion. Celeste is a conundrum wrapped in a riddle, and many have tried their hand at deciphering her mysteries."

And so, the challenge was yet again set before him as the allure of Celeste beckoned like a distant star in the night sky. To the pursuit of a woman who danced to the beat of her own melody, leaving a trail of broken hearts and dashed hopes in her wake.

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AUTHOR'S NOTE
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YO WATTPAD why you doing this to meeeeeeee
I can't post any GIF'S or align my sentences 😭😭

HERES THE CHAPTER!!!

IM SO SORRY FOR TAKING FOREVER, this chapter is pretty long, but i needed to build up my characters😭

AGAIN THIS IS A SLOW BURN !

I do have a Crosby fic in the works!!👀👀🙊

Slay 💅