Altitude - Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw: A Top Gun Love Story

Chapter 7

Sydney walks through the door just as Maverick puts away the last of the dishes into the cupboard. He peeks out from around the corner, eyeing her expectantly, but she doesn't look up at him as she removes her jacket and hangs it on the hook.

"How was the rest of your night?" he asks.

She glances up at him with a sigh. "Just ask what you want to ask," she says irritably.

He presses his lips together into a slight frown. "I take it you saw your mother, then."

Sydney picks up her bookbag and walks through the front hall. "Good guess," she says, walking past him toward the stairs.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he asks.

Sydney stops at the foot of the stairs and looks back at him. "Do you?" she says coldly.

He shrugs. "I wouldn't mind."

Sydney lets out another sigh and drops her bag. She heads for the couch in the living room and Maverick takes the dish towel off his shoulder, leaving it on the counter and following her.

He sits down on the opposite end of the couch, watching her wring her hands in her lap uncomfortably. He furrows his eyebrows, trying to figure out a way to learn the purpose of her visit without offending her.

"She told you, didn't she?" Sydney finally says.

Maverick watches her with a puzzled expression. "Actually," he says with a small smile. "She said very little to me."

Sydney eyes him skeptically. She bites her lip, lowering her gaze. She drops her head into her hands, staring at the flower pattern of the carpet miserably.

"Are you okay?" he asks, even though he can tell that she's not.

She closes her eyes as her lips begin to tremble.

"Sydney," he says, leaning forward as every muscle in his body tenses. "What happened?"

She sniffles. "I fucked up," she says.

"What did you fuck up?"

"My interview," she says with a whimper. "I didn't make it into the program. All these years wasted."

Maverick watches her compassionately and, after several moments of deliberation, he reaches out to place his hand on her shoulder. "Can you reapply?" he asks, to which she gives him a resentful look.

"Next year," she responds dully.

Maverick purses his lips and lets out a steady breath. "I suppose that's not ideal," he says.

Sydney raises her head from her hands and glares at him. "You think?" Her eyes are red and glistening, and her jaw is tight.

Maverick eyes the bookbag at the foot of the stairs. "If you didn't get in, what's with all the literature?"

Sydney stares past him blankly, not bothering to follow his gaze. She sniffs. "There's another school," she says. "It's here, in San Diego. Their admission deadline is in a couple of weeks. I'm writing my letter of intent."

Maverick raises his eyebrows with a grin. "You want to do your PhD here? In San Diego?"

Sydney shrugs her shoulders, looking over at him. "They've got a decent program. And I've been in contact with some potential supervisors."

Maverick nods. "I think that's great."

Sydney gives him a forced smile. "Yeah, rejection is awesome."

Maverick chuckles, shaking his head. "I mean that you're revising your plan rather than sitting idly by when life throws you for a loop."

She watches him solemnly. "Is that what you did?"