The day goes as anticipated; moderately. I've got Goose and Maverick with me, which accounts for a lot of laughs and throwbacks to last night. When Goose gets to the academy, the first thing he does is yell at me for stealing Maverick from the bar early. He isn't at all mad, he's just being silly, so I shake it off with a smirk. Together we attend the first theory class and by far the hardest. Not because of the material. If we're ranking classes by curriculum, Viper's is a nightmare compared to first period. But it's not the curriculum we're talking about, it's the teacher, who in this case is my fallen guardian angel I've been successfully avoiding since we fell out after the assembly.
Charlie.
She notices me immediately, but we don't speak.
I look away from her, only paying enough attention to her lecture in case she calls on me. I'm surprised when she announces the session's over without ever once singling me out. A missed opportunity, I'd think, for her to vent consequence free. She could publicly embarrass me in front of all the guys and get away with it. In fact, I could name those who'd pay to see me fall on my face. But Charlie proves her goddamn purity by ignoring me completely. I leave her class in a funk. The whole time, I'd been bouncing nervously in my seat, expecting her to lash out. I was chomping at the bit, rearing and ready to feast on the conflict...
But I got nothing.
No satisfactory argument, not even the sweet sting of pain at the mercy of her sharp words.
Nothing.
Maverick and Goose dragged me away from Charlie's class and through the rest of our very long day.
I could hardly pay any attention to any of our instructors.
Not that they noticed.
They wouldn't have sought out my opinion anyways.
Well...Viper might have. He certainly acted like he wanted to a few times during his class, but every time he opened his mouth and turned towards my corner of the room, he thought better of it and asked Goose or Maverick the question instead. Pity burned in his eyes. It made me feel like an idiot. When his class ended, I had to tear myself out of the chair I'd slowly melted into over the course of the hour.
Even in the air with Dash...I didn't have any fight in me.
I cursed him out plenty in my head, reprimanded by my RIO, but I never once offered any advice.
I did what he said and we lost.
Maverick took it almost as hard as Dash did, only he didn't pout.
He had a fire in his eyes that knocked me senseless. When I caught his furious gaze, something fizzled in the air. A sort of electricity.
When Maverick drove me home that night, I was so wired by his determination, I couldn't sleep.
Day after day, I continued to put up with Dash and Charlie, avoiding them both where I could. There weren't any bar visits or karaoke serenades. I did my assignments with the boys, constantly having to ward both Goose and Maverick off for trying to copy my answers. Those two proved more of a handful than a litter of puppies! One was always daring the other to accomplish some ludicrous feat which left me to clean up the mess or join in. Half the time, I submitted. Why not? I mean...standing up on the back of Maverick's motorcycle isn't safe but neither is piloting the military jet. Plus, I had a good hold on Maverick's shoulders, as weird as it sounds. I didn't get hurt. I did however get a much needed rush.
Five days after joining Top Gun, I finished my fourth flight with Dash.
We did pretty well...
But we could've been better if I'd been in the cockpit, I seeth.
You'll get there eventually, she comforts me.
Yeah, eventually. Eventually meaning when I'm old and grey, hunchbacked and stuck playing checkers against myself. I grind my teeth together and aggressively shove my arms into the sleeves of my aviator jacket. My hair is wet after showering and sticks to the back of my neck, cold and clammy, but it's refreshing after being in the stifling cockpit for over two hours. One of these days an engineer better invent some vents for those damn jets or we'll all die of heatstroke.
I slam my locker shut in finalty and storm out of the changing rooms, nearly barreling over someone lingering outside the door in the process.
"Girl! Watch where you're going!" Goose exclaims, stopping me before I fall into his arms.
"What the Hell were you doing hanging out outside the girl's locker rooms?! Someone's going to report you for being a creep!"
"Well nobody comes back here anyways..." Maverick counters, pushing off the wall where he'd been leaning, apparently waiting with Goose for me.
Honestly these two. They act like such gentlemen but in the dorkiest way. In some ways, I love that I can look forward to them hovering outside the changing rooms, ready to put a smile on my face and a skip in my step. It's dumb, but it really does make a difference. Everytime I yell at one of them, they just give me those damn puppy eyes; big and sparkly, pleading for mercy. What am I supposed to do? Berate my only friends for trying to be there for me? I mean...most guys would slide right on into the locker rooms in hopes of catching a girl off her guard but Tweedle-Dee and Tweedle-Dum here park it right outside, lounging around for sometimes an hour, waiting for me.
The first few times I was tempted to take the longest shower possible and see how long they'd stay.
Let's just say they're dedicated to this friendly act.
"Fine," I groan, rolling my eyes. "Let's go then."
Side by side, the three of us walk down the vacant hall. Shoulder to shoulder we fill up the entire hallway, but there's no one for us to block, so we don't care. It's kind of nice, having the quiet walk in the dim light after the chaos of dogfighting. As we head back to the main entrance, a monstrous growl ricochettes off the walls. Maverick and I look up in surprise, swapping wide eyed glances that quickly fall on Goose. He covers his stomach under both hands and sheepishly meets our suspicious gazes.
"I'm hungry!" He states.
"Your stomach is a demon," I say through stifled laughter. "You should get that looked at, Goose."
Maverick laughs at my joke but adds, "I'm starving too."
"We could stop some place? Get some dinner?" Goose suggests.
I shrug. "Sure."
Ever since I stopped talking to Charlie, I've been forced to either grab dinner with Maverick and Goose or hurry back to the house before You-know-who gets there so I can make myself a quick meal. Today I spent too much time mulling over the aggravating flight under the showerhead for me to beat Charlie home, so my only shot at eating is going out with Maverick and Goose. Besides, I need my ride to get back home and if they're planning to grab a bite, I'd have to wait for them to finish to go anywhere. Having decided to join them, we brainstormed where to go. The bar has some great steak fries, but Goose suggests a place down the street from the bar.
A Shoney's.
One of those 'all you can eat' franchises.
Maverick seems sold, so I agree and hop on the back of Mav's bike.
With Goose in the lead, we leave the academy's lot and drive into town, pass the bar and pull up to the Shoneys. It's nice. As nice as an in-and-out restaurant can be. The building itself is really big. I'm surprised until we step inside and I see the crowds of people. Buffets really are way too popular. There's something about eating out at a place where you can fill and refill your plate without lifting a finger in the kitchen. Everyone goes crazy for it.
Me?
Maybe it's just my inner farm girl speaking, but I'd prefer home cooked food from the loving hands of my mom than this free shit.
It tastes great and I'm glad I won't starve all night but the mashed potatoes puncture my heart. A large wound festers, longing and an unquenchable homesickness spreading like rotten vines across my organs. I stab my fork down into my meat and it sinks all the way through, clinking against the plate with an earsplitting screech. Our whole table cringes at the sound. Goose blinks away the horrid noise and continues to scoop the cooked greens onto his fork with his knife. I grab my water and take a large gulp. Over the rim of my glass, I catch Maverick watching me, his eyes unfocused. Thoughts whir in those green eyes, piquing my curiosity.
As I set my cup back down, I clear my throat loudly.
Maverick startles and Goose shoots me a skeptical glance.
"Whatcha thinkin' about Mav?" I rest my chin on my palms and bat my eyelashes at Maverick, who snorts and goes back to his food. "Really," I try again, making clear the urgency behind my question. "What's on your mind?"
"You." He replies easily.
My heart skips a beat.
Goose barks a laugh and shakes his head. "Damn. Smooth Mav, real smooth -"
"What I meant was you and Charlie," Maverick clarifies.
Is it just me...or did his voice wobble a bit? He certainly shifted awkwardly in his seat while giving Goose a pointed look. Not to mention he cut Goose off in a hurry, like something about Goose's innuendo bothered him. I feel my own brows knit together in confusion. Whatever's going on with Maverick, it's too much for me to think about right now. I let the matter go and focus on what he has to say about me and Charlie. Both Goose and I continue to eat but our eyes stay on Maverick, who hesitates. He sets his silverware down and brings his hands together in one wad. A giant fist that he presses to his lips.
A pensive look returns.
I pass Goose a side glance, What's going on with him?
Goose shrugs and stuffs a juicy cut of chicken into his mouth.
"You can't keep this up forever, Stirrups," Maverick begins tentatively.
Pain shoots up my jaw as I accidentally miss my mouthful of steak and bite the inside of my cheek. I sputter for a second, almost choking. My mouth reeks of fresh blood as I spit out, "What?"
"You and Charlie," Maverick repeats. "You're playing keep away but it can't go on like that. You're gonna have to make up."
The accuracy of his words strikes a match to my pride.
Stubbornness goes up in smoke.
"Why?" I demand.
"Why do you think? You work at Top Gun, she works at Top Gun -"
"You live in the same house," Goose adds.
"-exactly!" Maverick agrees, throwing his hands up in exasperation. "And as much as I love driving you home...you can't live like this. Sneaking in and out of her house, skipping breakfast and sometimes dinner. It's really stupid and it's gonna wear you down sooner or later."
"Really stupid?!" I exclaim. "She sided against me! The one person I thought I could count on and she had me removed from the pilot's seat! She should've known that I wouldn't stand for the injustice of it all and if she didn't, then she's the stupid one!"
Maverick leans forward, brows furrowed, eyes sharp. "She was doing what she thought was best for you."
"And how the Hell was she supposed to know what's best for me?" I lash out, leaning forward as well. Maverick and I stare at one another, breathing heavily, two akin fires blazing behind our green eyes. As I scrutinize the assertive expression he wears, a bit of my anger is dounced. My eyes catch on the near perfect bridge of Maverick's nose, how it sits between his dark, lucious brows in holy symmetry. The rest of my fighting spirit slips away, right between the cracks. I grasp after it, trying to fan the flames and get them roaring again, but it's no use. The longer Maverick and I hover in one another's face, neither of us backing down, the softer Maverick's gaze becomes, until he looks as though he's seen a ghost.
He might as well have.
I carry one with me everywhere I go.
Even now, as I fizzle and shrink back into my seat, I feel her let out a weighty sigh. I can almost picture her resting on the table beside me, flicking dirt off her nails with an over dramatic eye roll.
Stop being so stubborn, Stirrups. Mav is right.
Since when do you call him Mav? I snap.
She smiles. Jealous?
My heart ices over. No, I blurt.
"Look," Maverick draws his elbows off the table and drops back into his chair. His hand makes its way into his hair, carding through the short brown strands anxiously. His sigh withers. "I just...I didn't mean to boss you around or question your reaction. I get it, Stirrups," Maverick's eyes find mine. The green seems to swirl around his pupil, darkening from emerald to the rich foliage of forestry. "If Charlie had dumped my ass out of the pilot's seat, I'd let Hell loose. But it's going on a week, and if you want to have it just a little easier...talk to Charlie. You don't have to apologize yet-"
Apologize?
My glare throws daggers.
Maverick raises his hands defensively. "-or ever! My point is, just hash it out already. Nobody can live on apples for breakfast for eternity."
Nobody but me, I want to reply, but I swallow the retort. You'd think I'd jump at the chance to get into a fight again. I tend to do that, throw myself into conflict. Harness someone else digging at me, whether out of love or spite, and flip the tables on themselves so that the poison tipped words pierce their heart, or tear through whatever relationship we have. The newborn roommate dynamic with Charlie, and now, this complicated friendship with Maverick. I can see the cracks threading through our bond. The link is fresh and weak. Like a sapling, it needs time to develop into a massive trunk, capable of withstanding wind and rain; fire and hail. I'm tempted to slam my fist into the fissures our argument's formed, but I hesitate.
For the first time since joining the Navy, I've backed down from a fight.
I've relented.
To a guy.
A cocky, arrogant, silly prick of a pilot whose smile is too radiant for his own good. Everything about him is too much. Too much humor, too much sense, too much adventure and recklessness, too much green in those damn near enchanting eyes.
As my thirst for dissension fades, I sink back into my chair.
The legs wobble, crushed into the tile floor by the sudden pressure of my full body weight. Goose cringes. Maverick tears his gaze from mine and let's it fall to his crumb ridden plate. A stain of sauce frames a section of the plate's edge. A dark red smear. Barbecue sauce, if I remember correctly. I smell the spices; the whiskey and honey and pepper, but I see blood. Half dried blood. Damp, pungent, and dominating. It's all over my body. It seeps into my eyes, crusting my eyelashes and brows. When I twist around in my seat...
I see her.
She's dead already.
Gone.
Blood all over her face.
I lean forward and smell barbecue -
"Alright."
Both Maverick and Goose whip towards me. "Huh?" They chorus.
I bite the inside of my cheek. No blood comes. I breathe a sigh of sweet relief. The flavor is abnormally normal. It's begun to feel right on my taste buds but I know it's wrong and for tonight's second 'first', I'm glad to taste nothing but the grease of my meal and the bits of food caught between my teeth.
"Let's go to Charlies," I clarify. "Now."
"Now?"
Goose coughs on his corn. "Now now?"
Ignoring his question, I grab my plate to toss onto the pile of other dirty dishes, but Goose clamps his hand on the rim of my plate.
"I got it." He jerks his chin towards the door. "You two go."
Maverick and I share a quick glance. He slings his aviator jacket over his shoulder and with his free hand waves me urgently. C'mon! He mouths, eyes wide, the adrenaline pumping through his veins expelling a contagious anxious energy. As it crawls beneath my skin, spreading into the valves of my heart, I turn back to Goose. He raises his brows, daring me to stand around and waste more time. He's right, we've got to go, but I can't just run off. I can't chisel more cracks into these new friendships. I might've screwed up a little with Charlie...ok, I screwed up a significant amount with Charlie, but I'm not about to repeat that mistake with Goose. Or Maverick. A warmth burns in my gut and I smile a tight smile. Genuine, yeah, but mischievous.
It's me, dammit.
You don't get vulnerability without a pinch of sass.
"Thanks, Penguin."
I don't wait to see the priceless expression on Goose's face. In a blur, Maverick and I rush out the Shoneys and jump onto his bike. Then we race down the street, gunning it. I can't see the speedometer from around Maverick's body, but the pointy smack of wind on my cheeks each time I dare raise my head off his back tells me we're asking for a ticket. Cars honk, censoring their driver's foul exclamations as Maverick cuts people off to climb ahead in the rush hour traffic. We pass yellows without slowing and suddenly all the reds look green. Color Blindness, or so I'd tell the officer who tries to chase Mav down.
Though, I doubt he'd catch him.
The motorcycle screeches, tearing around a corner.
We've hit Charlie's street.
"ALMOST THERE!" Maverick shouts.
"I KNOW, DIPSHIT!"
"HANG ON!" Maverick warns. "WE'RE COMIN' IN HOT!"
I scream an embarrassing, pig-tailed-girl-with-braces scream. The tires nearly match my pitch before they hit the curb and Maverick cuts the engine.
He slides off the bike while I'm still gathering my wits.
And my dignity, or what remains of it.
Maverick offers his hand and shakes it in my face. I flinch away but he merely groans and rattles it around more. "C'mon, c'mon!"
"Geez!" I snap, taking his hand. "You're lucky I don't have epilepsy!"
Maverick laces our fingers together and drags me to my feet. Hand and hand, we sprint to Charlie's front door. Maverick gets to the door first and raises a fist to knock, but I shove him aside, freeing the hand he's trapped and barge right in. I can hear Maverick's shock at my audacity, but I couldn't care less. Who gives a damn? This is my house too! I've been pretending we live in two different worlds, two dimensions, one house, and neither of us can interfere with the other.
That game ends now.
The door slams shut right as I march into the kitchen where a startled Charlie stands holding an unopened wine bottle.
Hers is a frown of doubt. "Stirrups?"
Maverick comes stumbling after me. "Stirrups!"
"Charlie -" I break off, suddenly wishing I'd prepared a speech on the way here, but it's too late for that. Improv is my only option. It's a shit option but it's better than speaking gibberish or fighting again. My mouth flaps like a goldfish. Of all the times my brain decides to malfunction, now is just perfect. Words won't string together. I'm losing my courage and giving into fear and bitterness. An eternity of apple breakfasts sounds appealing. Charlie's expression switches. It's no longer passive, it's pity. Stupid, damn pity that haunts me! Every turn I take, it's there! Like some demon, shadowing my steps. What can I say now to that face? I can't think of more than two words so how do I...
Two words.
Just two, she whispers.
I should be mad that she hasn't helped me yet, but the comfort of her voice outweighs any spark of fury.
Two words, Stirrups. You got this.
"I'm sorry," I blurt.
Two words, good. Now add two more.
"I am."
Ok now -
I shrug her off and inch closer to the kitchen counter. "I'm sorry I got so angry with you. I blew up. I...I let myself go crazy and part of me knows I was right. I mean - I was right to be pissed that I'm not doing what I love. I came here to fly! Not to play backup with the Rookie! Dash is an absolute dick and I don't deserve to be his doormat, especially as his radar reader! But -" I inhale deeply. "You weren't subjecting me to this because you wanted it to hurt...I thought you were or something - actually, I thought you were just being a bitch but...but I um," I crane my neck and catch Maverick's eye. They glitter. Not tears but the same mountain moving compassion and faith. Faith in me. I smile, tears welling in my eyes and turn back to Charlie. "A pretty clever guy told me that you were doing it because you thought it best and if that's not a good sign about a person then...
"I don't know what is."
Charlie sets her bottle down and skirts around the counter. Every step she takes, my heart falters. It declines into a dangerously low rhythm. A low, ominous drumbeat. It pulses in my ears.
But then she smiles. A grin masking joyful tears.
"I'm sorry too, Remington."
"Remington? You sound like a train. Or a train station."
"You sound Catholic."
"Well I'm not."
"Good, because I'm not a train."
"Sure thing, Remington."
Remington.
A name I haven't heard in so long.
So, so long.
Stifling a sob, I stagger into Charlie's arms. She rests her chin on my shoulder and sighs. Her whole upper body expands, pressing into mine, and then contracts. I lean further into the embrace, blinking back tears.
If I cry...
I've apologized. I've done my job. No tears.
I'm sick of crying.
I spent months doing nothing but.
Instead, I laugh.
Charlie laughs too. "Dash is a dick, isn't he."
And just like that...I think I've got my guardian angel back.