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Nat doesn’t need anyone. She’s always prided herself on being a badass. A tough girl who’s always had an air about her that she takes no nonsense, and won’t hesitate to call others out on their bullshit. Some might say she’s intimidating. A ball-buster. An ice queen. A bitch. But when living in a man's world, she learned early on, she needed to grow bigger balls than the ones she’s surrounded by. Not hard when she thinks of the pixie dicks she’s currently working with.
She knows she’s a freak show in this circus. The butt of all jokes to all the old timers at the top Brass who think a woman’s place isn’t in the military, let alone the cockpit. But that’s okay. Nat’s always liked shutting up the naysayers and those that try to tell her that her ovaries are barriers to achieving dreams. Fuck that. She’s graduated from the Naval Academy, and finished at the top of her class at both flight school and TOPGUN. She’s a fighter pilot in the fucking Navy, and no penis with two swinging balls for brains will tell her otherwise.
She’s as tough as her grandpa’s old boots. Doesn’t need anyone. Right? Maybe if she says it enough, she’ll start to believe it.
But deep down, Nat knows that’s not true anymore, and it’s hitting her hard. She wishes a certain someone were here.
She kicks the dirt in frustration as she walks. Her mind is all over the place.
It’s been a long day. A real shitty one. Nothing seemed to go right, and her new back-seater situation is a disaster. He’s a total prick and if she had to guess based on all the snarky comments, a sexist pig too.
Their training didn’t go well and despite her stellar flying, her back-seater was out to make her look bad. Who does that? They’re supposed to be a team. And most of all, why does his brainless opinion matter?
It shouldn’t. Perhaps that’s what’s bugging her the most right now. She doesn’t usually let people like him get to her. But today she’s feeling defeated. Weak. Vulnerable.
She’s full of uncharacteristic doubt.
She’s…lonely.
Loathsome to ever admit it, but for the first time in a really long time, this long deployment is really getting to her. Sure, she’s survived worse, but for some reason this one is hitting her different.
Maybe it’s because there aren’t many friends or ally’s this time. Whatever it is, her hard shell is taking some dents. Not softening, mind you. Never. Just dented. Ugh. Who is she kidding? The girl who’s always prided herself, no, that’s not right, convinced herself, she doesn’t need anyone is. a. mess.
There. She said it.
And with that admission, she’s come to the begrudging realization that she does need someone. A certain someone. But they aren’t within reach. And it sucks.
Exasperated, she clenches her jaw and marches on.
What she needs, is to clear her head!
Walking into her favorite bar off the beaten path, she heads straight for a stool. She found this watering hole one afternoon she had off, and has been coming back ever since. She loves that no one from her squadron has discovered it, a nice vacation from all the bullshit and noise.
Normally, she’d go for a run or shoot some pool to let off steam, but today she requires some liquid gold to tamper her edge.
“Hey Jim. Scotch, neat,” she orders with more venom than intended.
Cringing with realization, she tacks on a “Please,” because despite her light the world on fire attitude, her mama would smack her upside the head for forgetting her manners. Pissed off fighter pilot or not, she was raised right, and her back-seating prick won’t take that from her either.
Jim the bartender and owner raises his brows and whistles. “That bad, Birdie?” he asks, using the nickname he gave her once he found out her call sign.
“You have no idea,” Nat scoffs.
Patting her hand, Jim leaves to collect Nat’s favorite bottle and sees him stop to talk to someone across the circular bar. Her view is blocked by the bar-back reloading glasses and the thick crowd surrounding the patron on the other side.
Damn it’s busy today, she observes.
Jim comes back to pour her a drink in a highball.
Watching, “Make it a double,” she adds on for good measure. Hell, she’d ask him to leave the whole damn bottle if she didn’t have to get herself back in one piece.
Jim finishes pouring and says, “Courtesy of the gentleman across the bar,” as he walks away.
Fuck. Nat rolls her eyes and drops her head. This is the last thing she needs, some townie trying to pick her up. Not only does she not have the time nor headspace for any shenanigans or unwanted attention, but above all else, her heart, body, and mind are already spoken for.
Bradley. Her heart pinches. She misses him so damn much. He’s her person she needs, and come to rely on. The reason for this unwanted loneliness she’s feeling on top of all her work drama. Their emails and FaceTimes haven’t been enough lately. They’ve both felt it. With the stress of this assignment really starting to weigh on her, she could tell Bradley is starting to worry. His furrowed brow and clenched fists telltale giveaways even through their crappy connection. Normally, that would piss her off, with the implication meaning she can’t take care of herself. But she knows with him, it’s coming from a place of love and his deep-seated need to protect those he cares about. Bradley’s not just her boyfriend, but also one of her closest confidants in and out of the cockpit, and with that, someone who gets what being a fighter pilot's about. And thank God for that. Flying with a cloudy head is dangerous, and he’s been able to talk her through some of her issues with her dick faced WSO. But it’s not the same as having him here.
Looking up, she tries to find her drink guy to send a silent thanks but also give the clear signal she’s uninterested. Except she can’t see anyone. She catches the back of someone with a familiar build walking away through a swarm of people, and her heart jolts. She swears she just saw someone she knows. That’s impossible, her brain reasons. Shaking her head in disgust, she’s so messed up she’s hallucinating. Get it together Nat, she admonishes herself.
Studying her drink, she thinks of her last visit with Bradley. Things were so good between them. They’d gone to her parent's farm and after seeing him ride the tractor clad in his trademark Hawaiian shirt and aviators, she has a new image to keep her company at night. Who knew that would be her new fantasy to keep her warm.
With that sexy picture in mind, she plans to call him when she gets back. Thank God, the time difference works in their favor, but it’s been difficult finding time to connect the past two days.
In the background of the cacophony of bar sounds, she hears the faint sound of someone tickling the piano keys. Her heart lurches. Another reminder of her love miles away, and how he calls to her similarly when he sits down to play. She remembers telling him about this place and her secret dream to have him here to play for her. Nat shakes her head at that silly thought.
Smiling into her drink, all their piano times together start to play like a movie, and she gets lost in her thoughts and the numbing sensation the scotch is starting to provide.
Nat snaps back to reality when the mystery voice singing at the piano, that started off soft, gets stronger. The noise level in the bar starts to quiet with the realization that this person can REALLY sing. Wow. He really can, she thinks. It’s deep, raspy quality sending shivers down her spine.
Wait.
She knows this song. She knows this voice. It’s spoken, whispered, moaned, and sung into her heart and soul many a time. It’s ingrained into her DNA.
Calls to her like a Siren’s song.
Nat’s shoulders pull back and she sits straight up. Hesitant to believe what her heart so desperately wants…she starts to listen more intently…
I've been waiting for you
To come around and tell me the truth
About everything that you're going through
My girl, you've got nothing to lose
Cold nights and the Sunday mornings
On your way and out of the gray
Goosebumps erupt all over her skin. Her head quirks to the side. No. Seriously. It’s not possible. But still…she spins around on her stool and her eyes search frantically in the direction of the music.
I've got time, I've got love
Got confidence you'll rise above
Give me a minute to hold my girl
Give me a minute to hold my girl
Crowded town, silent bed
Pick a place to rest your head
Give me a minute to hold my girl
Give me a minute to hold my girl
Holy shit…it can’t be…
Her eyes meet his across the bar, as if he’s been waiting for her rich chocolate browns to collide with his lighter hazels this whole time.
Expectation plows head-on into reality as realization takes over both their features.
I've been dreaming 'bout us
Working hard and saving it up
We'll go and see the man on the moon
My girl, we've got nothing to lose
Cold nights and the Sunday mornings
On your way and out of the gray
I've got time, I've got love
Got confidence you'll rise above
Give me a minute to hold my girl
Give me a minute to hold my girl
Crowded town, silent bed
Pick a place to rest your head, and
Give me a minute to hold my girl
Give me a minute to hold my girl
A hallmark mustache lifts in a sexy grin as he sings, and jerks his head to the side to silently call her over.
Without warning her legs start moving, and she’s walking towards him, still in disbelief. He smirks and nods his head as if silently offering reassurance he’s real. Knowing her guarded self is a full on skeptic, and Bradley is the ever patient one, always willing to coax her like a skittish animal. Approach with caution is his affectionate joke when dealing with her.
Nat’s hand shakily reaches out as she walks behind him, and trails across his strong shoulders as he plays, taking the moment to familiarize herself with the solid feel of him beneath her fingers. He tilts his head back to send a wink up her way. She comes alongside him and holds his stare, mesmerized by his voice and handsome face staring back. She can’t believe he’s here.
Her Bradley.
My girl, my girl
It takes one hard second to turn it around
It takes one hard second to turn it around
Suddenly without breaking stride, Bradley scoots back and while maintaining playing with one hand he gently guides her down to his lap. Nat settles between his warm thighs as each arm pins her in place. Her small frame and their obvious height difference making it easy for him to play around her.
Secret known fact, Nat’s always loved their size difference, and has always felt so safe with him. Succumbing to his strength and warmth, Nat can already feel some of the days tension start to melt away. Picking up his tempo, he sneaks kisses to her shoulders and neck, leaving electric shocks in their wake. She closes her eyes to keep her emotions in check. She really can’t believe he’s here. And this song. It’s one of her favorites. Tears start to gather and trail down her cheeks as she listens to his crooning words and watches his fingers fly along the keys, like he’s playing her heartstrings instead of the ivory’s.
Bradley’s here and it’s everything.
I've got time, I've got love
Got confidence you'll rise above
Give me a minute to hold my girl
Give me a minute to hold my girl
Crowded town, silent bed
Pick a place to rest your head, and
Give me a minute to hold my girl
Give me a minute to hold my girl
I've got time and I've got love
Got confidence you'll rise above
Give me a minute to hold my girl
Give me a minute to hold my girl
Crowded town, silent bed
Pick a place to rest your head
Give me a minute to hold my girl
Give me a minute to hold my girl
Trailing off, the bar erupts at the end of their romantic impromptu show. Bradley huskily whispers, “surprise” in her ear, cocooning her between his strong arms and hands still on the piano. Nat’s head falls back into the crook of his neck. He tenderly kisses the side of her head, and she’s not sure if her body starts to convulse from laughter or tears. Whichever it is, it’s grounding her and chasing out the bad stuff. Nat grabs for his hands to wrap his warm arms around her, bringing her more fully flush to his chest and drops her head to kiss his beautifully talented hands. Bradley’s comforting signature scent surrounds her. She feels his heartbeat at her back, gently coaxing hers into a matching, easy rhythm.
Exhale.
A sudden blanket of peace wraps around her. She feels whole again.
This is what she needed.
And this badass female fighter pilot is okay admitting that.
He’s here, and it’s going to be okay.
”I just needed to hold my girl,” Bradley confesses into her hair.
And that’s okay too.