I didn't know what was currently going through my dad's head at the moment, I guess I was never good at reading him.

But it took us to the beach, so I was slightly grateful for whatever had prompted him to take us here today.

Unless it was running. Or conditioning.

My eyes brighten, and my smile widens as my father brings out two footballs.

I look at Rooster, just to see him staring at me.

He wiggles his eyebrow, and jabs his thumb at the footballs.

The nostalgia must've gotten him too.

Maverick smiles, slightly sweating under the sun. "Today, we're going to be playing dogfight football. Rooster and Hurricane know this drill. I'll explain the game, and then they can be team captains."

Rooster calls out, "A little competition never hurt anyone, right Hurricane?"

I laugh, and quip back, "Wait, what competition? Nobody else gets to be me!"

"And how many wins do you have?"

"More than you." I say back.

Rooster looks him up and down, checking me out in public. "You wish."

Phoenix says, "Ladies! You can go back to fighting-slash-flirting after the game, let's actually play."

We both nutter apologies, trying not to laugh. It feels like old times alright.

Maverick explained that is was just like football, except offense and defense happened at the same time, every time.

I had Phoenix, Coyote, Fanboy, Harvard, Fritz and Halo on my team, while Rooster got Payback, Omaha, Yale, Bob, and Hangman.

I don't think exactly qualifies as training, but we're all having too much fun to care.

In the beginning, we all are barking out the score, but now we're all laughing to hard to remember.

Even Maverick joins in at one point, but being the old man he is, he just can't keep up on the ground.

Once, he gets tackled, and Rooster goes over and helps him up. I think we're all beginning to heal in our own way.

I'm happy for Rooster, but I'm jealous because Rooster was the son my father never had.

I ignore daunting thoughts of the past, and move onto the present. Where my team is winning, once again. Hurricane 1, Rooster 0.

Rooster scores the first touch down, raising his hands in the air, cheering with his teammates.

I'm especially admiring him shirtless, and more so when he starts dancing to his victory.

Enough, Hurricane, focus on the game.

That's no fun.

I make some pretty epic catches on my side, and Rooster decides it's his mission to stop me every time.

Whether it's pushing me, knocking the ball down, or even lifting me away from it, he's effectively stopping me.

Phoenix laughs and eyes the two of us, her eyes saying, I know what you are, even if you two don't accept it.

I roll my eyes, and try pushing Rooster out of the way before he can stop me from catching the ball.

I fake right, but go left, catching Rooster off guard, and breaking his ankles.

I catch the football and I lift it into the air in celebration. I begin to race over to my team, but a pair of large hands encircle my waist.

Rooster lifts me up into the air, spinning us. His calloused fingers from piano and piloting sweeping across my waist.

My face is turning red, so I mentally thank myself that it hides underneath my sunburn.

Was Rooster trying to tease me?

Two can play at the game.

Before I can get a chance, and evil look flashes in Bradley's eyes.

He runs over to the ocean, and throws me in.

I gasp for air, and all I can taste is salt.

"Bradley Bradshaw!" I yell at him.

"What?" He asks.

"At least help me up." I say innocently.

"Fine, ya big crybaby."

I smirk, and when I grab his hand, I pull him down with all of my strength, and he comes tumbling down into the water.

"If you weren't so—" Bradley starts, but then ultimately stops.

"I think awesome is the word you were looking for." I say, standing up, just out of reach so he can't pull me in again.

"Annoying is more like it."

"Hey Lovebirds! Get back in the game!" Hangman yells after us.

"Betcha I can beat you back!" I said, already running.

"Cheater! You got a head start!" Rooster says, scrambling to get up and chase after me.

"I guess you're too slow!" I tease him, getting back to the game first.

We go back to our respective teams, and Hondo ends up catching the ball. We all end up tackling him before he can move an inch, and I can't remember the last time I had fun like this.

It gets better, when I'm trying to stop Rooster from throwing his football, but him having another foot on me, passes the ball effortlessly.

Right into Bob's hands.

Bob look more surprised than anybody when he catches it; it's his first touchdown of the game.

Both teams start celebrating, and Rooster lifts up Bob onto his back, as we all chant, 'Bob! Bob! Bob!'

All in all, I think that was one of my favorite days I've had in a while.

Thank Maverick for a 'team building exercise.'

I return to my house still soaking wet and burnt. It'll turn into a tan tomorrow, so I don't mind.

There's a knock at the door.

I pull on a shirt, and walk over to it, not wanting to be stuck in the same position I was with Rooster earlier this week.

Speak of the devil.

"Rooster?" I question, surprised to see him on my porch again.

"Can I come in?" Bradley asks, nervously, as he runs his hands through his hair.

"Yeah? What's up?" I ask, but he doesn't follow me as I try to go over to the living room.

"Rach..."

"What?"

"I don't want to be friends with you." He blurts out.

My face drops.

I don't know what I thought, but after the beach, I really thought that we could go back to normal.

"Look, if you're just going to come over, and hurt my feelings, you can go—"

I guess he's tired of my angry ramblings, when his lips land on mine.

I don't respond back after a few seconds, so Rooster tries to pull back, thinking I've actually moved on from him.

I pull him closer to me by his shirt, and we continue kissing.

My hands eventually slide up into his hair. I tug it lightly, and he gives out a groan.

It's euphoric, it's the adrenaline you get racing among the clouds, or the G's that get you off the runway.

He's like flying.

Bradley pulls away first, and rests his forehead on mine, as we both try to catch our breath.

I shamelessly stare into his eyes, while he looks right back at me. I never noticed how his dark brown eyes have flecks off gold in them. But then again, we've never been this close.

"Don't just stand there, kiss me ya big stud."

And he did.

★★★

Later, we're chilling on the couch, and I'm curled into Bradley's side, while he's flipping through channels.

And I'm chewing gum.

He turns to me, and says, "Y'know, I never knew why you liked gum growing up."

It's true. I had been chewing gum all my life. It was my thing. I never really thought about why.

I shrugged. "It tastes good."

"You taste better." He says, and I blush.

"Bradley Bradshaw, you shut your trap right now or—"

"Or what?" He challenges me, his lips curving upwards with that stupid mustache of his.

"I'll kick you out again." I say, folding my arms.

Bradley repeats, "I'll always come back."

"I know you will," my voice suddenly drops to a whisper, and there's tension in the air.

This time, I kiss him first.

I'm making out with my child hood best friend, his back on the couch cushions, and me hovering over him.

But nothing ever felt so right, and life never felt so perfect.