Faking It and Other Top Gun Stories - Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw

Faking It - Part II

"Steven is," Bradley pauses, trying to think of an appropriate word, "underwhelming."

You snort as the two of you make your way out of the restaurant. You feel Bradley's eyes on you, waiting for you to expand on the subject, but you have no interest in reminiscing about the shittiest relationship you've ever been in, so you just hop down the steps and pick up your pace as you take the little path toward the chalets on the water.

"Did you date for long?" he asks, taking bigger strides to catch up with you.

"Long enough," you respond.

Bradley purses his lips. "I see we're in a talking mood."

"I just want to get this long weekend over with," you grumble.

He nods, sticking his hands into his pockets.

You make it all the way to your chalet in silence. Bradley opens the door and gestures for you to go inside. You walk in and flick on the light and your heart drops into your stomach as you stare at the one bed in the middle of the room. Behind you, Bradley slowly closes the door. You look back to see him glancing between you and the bed.

Your eyes meet and you're pretty sure you know exactly what he's thinking: that he didn't sign up for this shit. "We forgot to get our bags from the car," you say, as if you've hardly noticed the elephant in the room.

"I'll go grab them," he says, also choosing to ignore the glaring complication in your, thus far, flawless scheme.

He leaves and you turn to glare at the bed as though it's a cruel joke and you have no sense of humor. You wonder why the idea of sleeping in the same bed with Bradley is distressing you enough to make you this uncomfortable. You've shared beds with friends before.

You persistently overlook the memory of Bradley's hand on your back and the subsequent butterflies assailing your stomach. Those butterflies could have easily been attributed to surprise and you don't plan on hosting them again anytime soon. Certainly not in Bradley's presence. You just barely got the guy to agree to entertain a fake relationship, there is no way he'd ever consider something real with you. Besides, you don't like him like that.

Bradley returns with your bags. He drops them on the floor near the door and quickly says, "I'll take the couch."

You look over at the two-seater near the door skeptically. "You won't fit on that," you say.

"I'll make it work," he says, digging into his bag for a toothbrush.

You imagine Bradley scrunched up on the tiny sofa and wince. "I'll take the couch," you say.

Bradley straightens his back and gives you an unwavering look. "No deal," he responds. He shrugs off his Hawaiian shirt and walks past you toward the bathroom.

You change into your pajama shorts and top while Bradley brushes his teeth and gets ready for bed. He walks out of the bathroom and pulls off his tank top, tossing it into his bag as he heads for the couch. You stare at his bare back for a split second before tearing your gaze away and biting into your bottom lip as the image of his back muscles engrains itself into your memory for all of time.

You let out a shallow breath, reaching into your bag for your face wash, and then you practically run into the bathroom, doing your best not to watch Bradley remove his pants before sitting down onto the couch.

You brush your teeth while wondering why you're all of a sudden possibly attracted to Bradley Bradshaw. Sure, the guy is hot. But you've never seen him as anything more than a friend – a slightly annoying one, at that. On the other hand, you've also never seen him shirtless until two minutes ago, and that changes things. Sort of. You would never have asked Bradley to pretend to be your boyfriend had you had feelings for him.