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Callie “Halo” Shen does not do things halfway.
She’s met people who do. People who say they’re all in, but then back out at the last second. People who make promises and never follow through. People who say they love her but never show it properly.
Her pilot, Omaha, is not one of these people. They met in their first year of flight school and have stuck together ever since. She remembers the feeling so clearly. Some guy was getting in her space too much and she was handling it, but he stepped in to give her some backup and it was just this wave of relief that washed over her, and she could immediately just tell he was good people. He’s her best friend, and she knows she can count on him.
Which is why it’s so annoying that he’s running late right now. She’s at this stupid Navy party which is composed mostly of old white men who are all parading their stars and medals around for each other like a bunch of size queens, talking to each other with fake smiles on their faces. There are some people her age, but not anybody that she recognizes. Honestly, she isn’t quite sure why she and Omaha were invited, but they figured they shouldn’t turn down an invitation to a big event like this, even if they still have no idea what it’s for.
She checks her watch again. It’s been twenty minutes since she got here, and she’s kind of just been standing around. She scans the room for something to do. She really doesn’t want to talk to any of the old guys, and there are only so many other women in the room. The guys her age are a hit or miss. They’ll either be friendly enough, condescending, straight-up assholes, or they’ll hit on her. She doesn’t want to risk it, so wait for Omaha it is.
In the meantime, though, she can get a drink.
She immediately regrets it the moment she goes up to the bar. There’s a blond guy around her age leaning against the counter with a toothpick in his mouth and a glass in his hand. He holds himself in a way that projects confidence, but the kind that’s fake if you know what to look for. His stance is relaxed, but he’s keeping his hands busy, taking small sips every so often and rubbing at the edges of the glass when he’s not. He’s slowly scanning the room, which, again, is just giving him something to do so he doesn’t seem insecure. The instant he spots her, he gives her a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. It doesn’t immediately set off any alarm bells for her, but there’s a very small chance that this guy isn’t bad news in some way.
She gives him a tight smile in return and goes to stand a fair distance away from him as she orders her drink. He doesn’t seem to get the memo, though, and sidles up next to her. She tenses, bracing herself. Whatever he says next will tell her if he’s a complete asshole or not. She bets eighty percent it’ll be some really badly executed hello.
“Lame party, huh?” is what comes out of his mouth instead. Callie looks up at him in surprise. Maybe she read him wrong.
“Yeah,” she says, laughing a little. “This whole thing is just a kiss-ass fest so far.”
He raises his eyebrows in agreement. “I would love to be anywhere but here.”
“Me too,” Callie says, shaking her head. “I don’t even know why we got invited. There’s quite a lot of other people our age here, too. Why’d they pick us?”
“I think we’re, like, all the top ranked at flight school right now, so they decided to invite us to keep the party modern, or something like that,” he tells her.
She scans the room again. She vaguely recognizes some of the people from her classes, the ones who always answer questions and scribble notes furiously while the instructors talk. “Sounds about right. I really wish they didn’t, though.” She sighs, then looks back at the guy. “So where are you ranked?”
He laughs. “I wouldn’t tell you even if I knew. All you need to know is I’m one of the best,” he says, giving her a smirk.
Okay. Callie can play this game. She’s the same way. “Not better than me, that’s for sure,” she says, smirking right back.
“We’ll have to see about that,” he replies, lifting his chin. “But anyway, I bet we’re both better than the other people here.” He nods at the other people their age scattered around the party. “They’re all sucking up right now. Rubbing elbows with all the other self-absorbed white guys who someone thought it would be a good idea to give power to. You wanna know the only one who doesn’t suck?”
Callie tilts her head, curious. “Who?”
He gestures with his glass to a man across the room. He’s tall, also blond, and is chatting amiably with a shorter dark-haired guy. “Rear Admiral Kazansky, over there. Got his second star at forty-three, beating out the previous youngest admiral by just one year. He’s probably the only one in the brass who’s genuinely a good guy.”
Callie squints over at him. The admiral doesn’t hold himself like someone who’s been promoted at a record age. Anyone else would act like they were better than everyone else in the room, but he looks surprisingly relaxed right now, laughing at something his conversation partner is saying. She watches as someone else walks up to the two of them, some unremarkable white-haired guy, and the admiral’s entire posture changes. He stands up straighter, his smile becomes a bit more contained, and he extends a friendly hand to the newcomer, who shakes it enthusiastically. He still seems cordial, but more withdrawn and professional. Interesting.
She looks back at her own conversation partner. “How do you know?”
He shrugs. “Talked to him a few times. You can just tell, you know? You can tell what people think of you and the world around them if you just have a conversation with them about anything, really.”
“Yeah,” Callie says, studying him. “You can.”
“So, why’re you over here at the bar when you could be out there, talking to other people?” he asks.
They’re not out of the woods yet. “Is this a what is a pretty girl like you doing over here line or something?” she says, stepping back a little.
“No!” he says immediately, putting his hands up. “No, definitely not. You are… not my type.”
The way he says it makes her pause. If she’s right, and this frat boy looking guy is like her… that’ll be a blow to her confidence in her observation skills. “Really? How’s that? You don’t even know anything about me.”
“Trust me,” he says, giving her a look that she reads immediately. “I know.”
“Hm,” she says, nodding. She really did misjudge him. “Well, you’re not my type either, for the record. Same reason.”
“Tough thing to be in our line of work,” he says, raising his glass. Still being vague with the terms, just in case. He’s smarter than he looks, too.
“Sure is,” she responds. “You with anyone?”
“Nah,” he says, shaking his head. “I was for a while, but… didn’t work out. It’s fine, though. I don’t have to worry about keeping it quiet.”
“There is that,” she acknowledges with a nod. She hasn’t dated anyone serious before, but she’s always known she was different ever since she realized she didn’t think any of the boys her friends in elementary school were talking about were cute.
“How about you?” he asks.
She lets out a laugh. “Definitely not,” she says. “No one’s ever seemed… right.”
He nods. “Well, you’ll find the right person. We’re still young.”
“Yeah,” she says, laughing again. “Well, it won’t be here, that’s for sure.”
He snorts. “I wonder how many people actually think they’re going to find their true love at a Navy party.”
She turns to him, suddenly struck with an idea. “What if we go and find out?”
He furrows his brow. “What do you mean?”
“I mean…” she lowers her voice. “You don’t like women, I don’t like men, right?” He nods. “Okay, so, what if we make a fun little game out of it? Something to make ourselves less bored. We both go and talk up as many straight people as we can, taking names and numbers, and then at the end, we come back and see who got more.”
“Oh, this isn’t fair,” he complains. “There are so many more thirsty men here than women.”
“Backing down from a challenge?” she says, raising an eyebrow at him. “I didn’t take you for the type.”
He laughs, shaking his head. “You’re right. I’m not. Alright, let’s do it, then.”
Callie scans the room one more time. Still no Omaha, but that’s okay. She’s found something fun to do with someone who doesn’t seem half bad. “Hang on. Before we go, I didn’t get your name.”
“Oh, right,” he says. “Hangman.”
She hums. “I wonder how you got that one.”
“You don’t want to know,” he says, laughing. “What about you?”
“Halo.”
“Hm, wonder how you got that one,” Hangman says, mimicking her.
She makes a face at him before turning to go, saying, “Good luck! You’ll need it.”
“Oh, we’ll see,” he calls after her.
Omaha arrives about fifteen minutes into their little game, while Callie is talking the ear off of some guy who asked her in Cantonese if he could buy her a drink. Now he’s basically subjected himself to her life story told in Cantonese, but honestly, he did it to himself anyway. She wasn’t sent to Chinese school for years of her childhood for nothing.
Omaha waves at her when he spots her, looking a bit confused as to why she’s flirting with a guy, but she gives him a look that says I’ll explain later. To the guy she was chatting up, she says, “對唔住, 我嘅朋友剛到了.” She got his number when he first bought her drink, so there’s no worries there.
She leaves him there and goes over to Omaha, who instantly asks, “What are you doing?”
“Well, hello to you too, Mr. Forty-Five Minutes Late,” Callie responds with a roll of her eyes. “Where the hell were you?”
He sighs. “You’re not gonna believe me.”
She puts her hands on her hips. “No, try me.”
“Okay,” he says, putting his hands out in front of him, which is how Callie knows it’s going to be a long story because he’s going to be randomly gesturing through the whole thing. “So I was on my way here, on time, early even, and I was making good time so I figured I’d stop by the store to grab a snack because I was really hungry and I didn’t want to show up to a fancy party with my stomach growling, even though there’s fancy food here but whatever, that’s besides the point. So anyway, I was getting my snack, and then there was this old lady outside in the parking lot who looked like she was struggling with her bags, so I asked her if she needed help, but I didn’t just do it for her because obviously some old ladies are super capable.”
Callie snorts. “Okay, points for feminism I guess, but you’re seriously going with the I helped an old lady on the street out excuse?”
“No, I’m serious,” Omaha insists. “I know it sounds fake, but it actually happened, and after I put all the groceries in her car she said I should come have a meal with her, and I was going to say no because obviously I had to be here, but she kept insisting and it felt mean to say no, so I gave in and went with her to her house, where I met her wife who was cooking their dinner, and then I had dinner with them as fast as I could and told them I had somewhere to be and came straight here, I swear.”
Callie stares at him, dumbfounded. “Dude. You were late because you were forced to have dinner with lesbian grandmas?” She starts laughing. “Okay, I can’t even be mad at that. That’s amazing. I wish my night had gone like that instead, geez.”
He frowns. “What have you been doing this whole time? Also, why were you flirting with a random guy? You don't even— you know.” He waves his hands in the air vaguely.
She takes a deep breath. “Yeah, okay, funny story…” She starts explaining to him the whole thing with Hangman and the game she made up, and Omaha just looks progressively more and more confused.
“So you met a guy, found solidarity, and then decided to go flirt with a bunch of people?” he confirms.
“Yeah, basically,” Callie says. “He’s over there somewhere, I think. I’m supposed to be winning, so I should probably get back to flirting.”
Omaha groans. “What am I supposed to do, then?”
Callie shrugs. “I don’t know, but you can’t stay with me or people will think we’re together or something. I gotta beat this guy, Neil!”
He rolls his eyes. “Okay, whatever. Maybe I’ll find this Hangman and be his wingman.”
She gasps dramatically. “You would betray me like that?”
Omaha smirks. “We’ll see,” he says, walking away with a taunting wave.
She shakes her head and goes to find her next target, trying not to watch Omaha slowly making his way toward Hangman. By the time she’s finished getting a few more numbers, Omaha and Hangman are talking to each other across the room. Callie watches curiously as Omaha says something, and Hangman throws his head back and laughs loudly. Unable to resist, she goes over to join them.
“Hey, Hangman, how many are you at?” she calls out as she approaches them.
He turns to her and says, “Oh hey, Halo. Well, so far, I am at…” He pulls a sheet of paper out of nowhere. “Five collected numbers.” He looks back up at her. “What about you?”
She smiles smugly. “I’ve got eight.”
His jaw drops. “What? How?” He puts a hand up as she opens her mouth to respond. “Wait, no, don’t answer that. It’s gonna be an insult or something.”
She grins, discarding I’m just hotter than you, and switches the topic instead, nodding between him and Omaha. “I see you two have already met.”
Omaha says excitedly, “Callie, did you know Hangman’s from Texas?”
She raises her eyebrows. “I did not know that, no.”
“And I assume you’re from Nebraska,” Hangman says to Omaha.
“Yep,” Omaha says proudly. “Hence the callsign. I grew up on a farm outside Omaha, Nebraska. I got to help out with the animals and everything when I was a kid.”
“We’ve got a country boy over here,” Hangman announces, and Callie tenses, ready to defend her best friend if Hangman is making fun of him. But he goes on to say, “I grew up on a farm too, at least up until high school. It was great.”
“Hell yeah, country boys!” Omaha says happily, holding his hand out for a high five. Hangman obliges with a grin.
Callie blinks at them. “Oh no, is this gonna be a thing?” she says.
“Oh, this is most definitely a thing now,” Hangman says, smirking. “Are you too city girl for this, Halo?”
“Hey, I’ll have you know I grew up poor in the suburbs,” Callie defends herself.
Hangman groans dramatically. “That’s even worse. Suburbia? No wonder you were hating this party.”
“So were you, country boy,” she snipes at him playfully.
“Hey, hey, that’s our thing,” Omaha says, throwing an arm over Hangman’s shoulders.
Callie throws a hand over her heart. “Leaving me out already?”
“Nah, you’re like the queen bee or something,” Hangman says.
“Yeah,” Omaha agrees with a grin. “You brought us together, so we’re sticking with you.”
Callie can’t help the smile that spreads over her face, despite how absolutely fucking cheesy that is. “You’re a sap,” she informs Omaha.
“Your sap,” he counters, smirking.
She rolls her eyes with a dramatic sigh. “I guess.” She wedges herself between them and throws an arm around them both, despite being the shortest. “So, boys, what are we feeling up to tonight?”
Hangman turns toward the middle of the room where the dance floor is supposed to be, which is currently empty, and looks back at them, raising his eyebrows. They’re all in tonight, it seems, which is a rare thing to find these days. Callie thinks this might just be the start of something great.
Hangman nods at the dance floor, confirming her thoughts with a mischievous smile. “Let’s see what happens.”