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

Faking It - Part IV

"Didn't you drive here, Y/N?" your sister asks as you take your sixth – or eighth – shot; you might have lost count.

You shrug. "I'll take an Uber."

Your sister purses her lips. "Or we could call Steven. I bet he'd love to give you a ride home."

"I have a boyfriend," you respond curtly.

Your sister gives you a pointed look. "You only moved to North Island two months ago. How serious can it be? You and Steven are soulmates."

You cringe. "I really hope not."

"Fine." Your sister waves a hand. "Call the aviator."

"I don't need to call anyone. I'll take an Uber."

...

Several drinks and a questionable table dancing situation later, you've ventured into the heart of the crowd, losing yourself entirely to the beat of the music. A few songs in, you feel a hand brush over your shoulder and you jerk away, nearly losing your balance in the process.

Bradley's fingers close around your arm to keep you steady.

"Oh," you say. "It's you."

Bradley furrows his brows. "Who else would it be?" he asks.

You dismiss the question with a wave of your hand. "Never mind," you say. "What are you doing here?"

"Our parties are merging," he says. "I think we're all heading to the pub across the street. They serve late. Are you okay?" he asks as you sway on the spot.

"I'm fantastic," you respond, giving him a broad smile. You let yourself admire the colorful lights dancing across his face in the darkness of the club because you're far beyond caring whether he catches you staring. Yes, Bradley Bradshaw can be annoying as hell but there's no denying that he's good looking. "Let's go," you say, starting for the exit. "I could go for another drink."

You end up veering into a couple of guys who jeer at you in response. One of them tries to grab your ass. Bradley quickly takes a hold of your shoulders, aiming a livid glare at the men in question, and steers you away. "You sure you're alright?" he murmurs into your ear from behind, his hands still guiding you.

"Totally," you respond distantly, relaxing so much into his grasp that your legs start wobbling in your heels.

"I don't know if having more to drink is the best idea," he says when you get to the door.

You glance up at him sleepily, leaning into the wall near the exit as you wait for the others. It feels amazing to have Bradley looking out for you, but also nauseating because you know he's only doing it for show. "I'll be fine," you say dismissively.

Bradley's eyes search your face suspiciously, as though he can tell something is bothering you. He doesn't have a chance to ask, though, because at that moment, your sister shows up.

"Y/N!" she calls as she approaches you. "Drinks at the Rusty Raven, come on!" She stops before you and Bradley and looks him up and down. "Okay, aviator," she comments on his getup. "Not bad."

Bradley holds back a smile, adjusting the collar of his leather jacket. "Thank you," he says.

"Good on you not flipping out about Steven," she says.

You close your eyes, hanging your head.

"What about Steven?" he asks. You look up to find his expression has hardened.

"Did I speak too soon?" Your sister grimaces.

Bradley studies your face, then glances between you and your sister. "Somebody's going to have to elaborate."