𝘚𝘰𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘦 | A Top Gun Fanfiction

Chapter 16: 𝘜𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘗𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘦

I don't know what I was expecting, because nothing gets past Charlie. Still, my stupidass self tried to get through breakfast, pretending to be fine and simultaneously wearing my scattered heart on my sleeve. Charlie chirped a good morning which I mumbled a reply to. Strike One. Later, halfway through my bagel, she asked how the rest of the night was – meaning dinner with the Broadshaws – and I reacted before I could duly process her question. My face dropped. I could feel my stomach wind itself into a knot so durable a mountain climber could've used it.

Strike Two.

We didn't even play til' 'strike three.'

"Alright," Charlie announces, setting down her silverware with a clatter. "You're doing that thing again."

"...that thing?" I remark.

Tune down the sass sister, Vixen advises.

I suddenly become very preoccupied with my orange juice.

Was I sassy?

I didn't mean to be sassy.

I don't mean a lot of things...

"Yes," Charlie continues. She flicks her hand through the air, staring me square in the eye. The smokey eyeshadow around her eyes makes her gaze ten times more intense. "That thing you do when something's eating at you, and you look like shit but you're pretending to be happy, so you look like someone with a chronic disease smiling through the pain. We've survived a falling out already, so let's quit dancing around complicated emotions and spit it out, yeah?"

I suck on the inside of my cheek. She's got a point: we fell out, we recovered our friendship, and Charlie is my closest female friend here at Top Gun. Second closest, I think of Vixen, stalking through my head like a wisp of red smoke. Somehow, the thought makes me smile, and Charlie lifts a brow, no doubt surprised at my shift in emotion. I push Vixen to the back of my mind and meet Charlie's imploring gaze. Whatever it is she thinks is bothering me...there's no way it comes anywhere close to what transpired between Maverick and I last night. A pit of guilt opens in my heart, dragging my vitals towards its gaping mouth. Like a film reel, the beers, the bar, the beach and the tears roll through my mind. We're laughing; I slide down the railing and Maverick follows suit. Dashing through the sand, christened by the stars above, the two of us make for the uncannily smooth rock.

The rock where I shattered.

Where my walls came down and I fell four steps back, right into Maverick's arms. A sobbing, twitching mess of trauma.

And he held me.

He loved me.

And then, just when I thought he meant it...

It was over.

The same cold dread creeps over me now, in Charlie's kitchen, and I shudder.

"Stirrups?"

What am I going to do? Panic grabs a hold of my aching heart and starts to pump it harder, faster. I can feel my chest rising and falling rapidly beneath my white shirt. How am I going to face him?

"Stirrups? Do you have a fever? You look pale –"

"I'm fine," I choke out, "I just..."

Charlie stands up and hurries to my side. "You're nothing close to fine, Stirrups, so cut the bullshit and tell me what's going on. Did someone hurt you? Are you sick? Whatever it is I can help –"