The Top Gun Naval Fighter Weapons School is where the best of the best train to refine their elite flying skills. Filled with hot-shot pilots and a whole lotta whiskey. All in sunny Southern California. The graduates at Top Gun receive training from...
For weeks, Evie has purposefully ignored each and every single text from Hangman. She barely speaks to him in class unless absolutely necessary for an exercise.
And ever since her not-so-first date with Bradley, the feelings she once harbored for the man continue to resurface, pulling on her heartstrings more and more with each passing day.
The mission keeps getting closer. The pilots never stop training, never stop learning, and never stop fighting.
Not when the target is so close.
Evie has been getting back into the hang of the military lifestyle and simultaneously seeing the flaws within it. She never realized how much she took her civilian lifestyle for granted.
But one day, in particular, allows her to clear her head. One day in which their instructor doesn't take them to the classroom, but rather, to the beach.
All pilots strip down. Our of their flight suits and into shorts as Maverick holds the football in his hand.
Dog Fight Football.
The rules are simple.
Offense and defense at the same time.
And when Evie removes her shirt from her body, it draws some attention and some whistles from her fellow pilots.
" Damn, Whiskey!" Fanboy calls out.
" How much you lift?" Payback asks as she throws on her sunglasses.
" More than you weigh," Whiskey winks.
She joins her team, bending over just the slightest until the play is on.
Bob runs with one of the balls, and in order to protect him, Whiskey runs straight toward Hangman and tackles him to the ground, knocking him into the sand with a thud. And before he can let out a sly comment, she's up and running away.
The score goes up for both teams, but after a while, they stop keeping track. It's just too much fun.
But Whiskey doesn't look where she's going. She bumps into Phoenix, and both women fall to the ground, Whiskey on her back and Phoenix on top. From her point of view, Phoenix's breasts are practically spilling out of her sports bra, drawing a faint smirk on her lips.
" Nice rack, Lieutenant Trace," She recalls.
" Ditto... Lieutenant Cohen," Phoenix smirks, her eyes dipping down for just a second.
Both women then stand up and brush the sand off of them and return to the game.
Hondo blows the whistle, and the play is on. Maverick has one ball, Hangman has another. They both throw, Phoenix catches and Rooster catches.
" Touchdown!"
The pilots erupt in cheer and laughter. Rooster and Coyote chest bump in mid-air, and then Rooster does a little celebratory dance, one that Whiskey can't help but watch. The way his sweat glistens in the sun, the way his tanned and toned body ripples from each movement of his dance.
But she's soon snapped out of it as a ball gets tossed over in her direction. She catches it with ease and runs backwards in order to make a clear shot over to Maverick, who catches the ball and takes it into the makeshift endzone.
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