A/N: Did she (muse) decide to edit this chapter instead of finishing her assignment? Yes. I still don't know if I want to stick with the title of this fic. But we'll see!

Disclaimer: I don't own anything.

2

Mac knew that her uncle might frown upon the fact that she had only been home for two weeks, and there she was, at a party past her curfew. But she could not let Annie and her friends drive to the bonfire they had talked about all night. No, the wounds were too fresh from two years prior, and now she knew better. To understand what they would be risking if they went behind the wheel inebriated.

She nursed a red plastic cup filled with just the chaser. Nobody asked what she was drinking as long as she looked like she was. She learned that particular trick during her first year at Minnesota, during the third mixer she attended with her roommate. A trick further cemented when she was at a gathering of fellow Marine ROTC cadets. It was easier to pretend to be drinking, instead of answering the questions that she was a nineteen-year-old self-assessed alcoholic.

She watched Annie mingle around, always sticking by Luke's side. Mac much preferred the tallest of the trio, Harm, but she always had a thing for dark hair and striking eyes, she supposed. The thought of Chris, the husband she ran from crossed her mind, causing her to shake her head to rid herself of that memory.

"You ok?" a voice startled her, causing her to twitch. She looked towards the direction of the voice, not that she had to look very far. It was Harm standing less than a foot away. "May I?"

He motioned to the sand next to her.

"Public beach," Mac responded with a shrug.

He smiled at her, a small smile. He, too, had a red plastic cup in his hand. He then sat down, a mere inches away from her, but far enough that she did not have to lean away to keep her space.

For a moment they both sat there silently, letting the sounds of the bonfire a few feet away merge with the clashing of the waves.

"So, you're from Minnesota?" Harm asked trying to start a conversation with her. He did not know why he particularly felt nervous talking to this girl. It wasn't about the bet that they had started earlier that night. It was something else he couldn't quite place.

He reached into his front pocket and took out a cigar, courtesy of one of the other men at the bonfire

Mac shook her head. "Arizona."

"Ah," he said confused. "And you found yourself here in Pensacola."

He took the cigar out of the wrapper and held it up to his nose to smell the flavor. Then he reached for his lighter and paused. "You mind if I smoke this?"

She shook her head, watching as he bit the end of the cigar. He spit out the end, then lit the cigar in a practiced motion. Meanwhile, she was mesmerized, it seemed, by this stranger. She was unsure of what he wanted from her. She wasn't much for small talk. She preferred silence. He, on the other hand, seemed to be the life of the party. He was charismatic from what she had seen the last few hours at the bonfire.

Mac didn't make any attempts at a conversation, and he sat next to her, smoking his cigar and blowing to the opposite side to avoid smoking her out. Silence stretched for a while, and she figured that he'd leave her alone like everyone else does. Yet, he stayed there, just sipping his drink, smoking his cigar, and looking out at the waves.

"Thank you for giving us a ride here," Harm said softly, flexing his fingers around the cup.

"No problem," she said softly.

"How long are you here for?"

"The summer."

"Navy brat?" he guessed.

She scoffed. "Marines."

"Ha!" he exclaimed.

"What?" she challenged. The Navy-Marine friendly jabs were something she was familiar with. It was a safe topic of discussion. "You think you Squids are the only ones on the base?"

"No," he paused then chuckled. "Someone has to fill the sandbags for the hurricanes."

She rolled her eyes. "Spoken like a true aviator. Bet you wouldn't last in jungle training."

His face fell, and Mac could sense the air around them shift. She didn't know what she said that caused it, but she felt she had to apologize somehow. "Uh… sorry."

"No," he whispered looking back out to the ocean. "You're… it's… nothing."

"You want to talk about it?" Mac offered. She was not that invested in it, but she felt that he had something to say. One of the skills she learned from AA was listening, and figuring out when to listen.

He shook his head.

"It's uhm, bad to keep things bottled up," she pointed out.

He looked at her with a raised brow. "Pretty young to be giving me some life advice."

"I'm not that much younger."

"No, but you seem like you've gone through some real shit," he pointed out. He was drunk enough not to have his own filter, but not enough to not feel embarrassed about his words. "Sorry, I just… You're different. I can't figure it out."

"You figure out women that quick, Harmon Rabb Jr.?"

He shot her his infamous grin.

"That smile may work on other women, but it doesn't work on me."

He pointed at her and exclaimed. "See! Can't figure you out."

She fell silent, not knowing what to say next. She did not like the feeling of being watched, or as a puzzle to figure out. Although she supposed, it was better than being lusted after because of her looks.

"You like Annie," she stated. "But she likes Luke."

"How do you know she likes Luke?"

Mac smiled at him. "It's a girl thing."

"What, women's intuition or something?"

She shrugged. "Or something."

"Is this your way of telling me I have no chance with Annie?" Harm asked, a bit offended. He did not take to losing lightly.

"Just calling it out like I see it."

He sipped his drink and frowned, then looked down at his cup. Empty.

"You need a fill?" he asked, motioning to her half-full cup.

She shook her head. "I'm good here. I'm driving you guys home."

"We all live on base," Harm mentioned. "Annie lives in housing, and we're at the VOQ."

"Yeah, it's no problem."

"Are you sure?"

"Wouldn't offer otherwise," Mac stated.

"You're too nice, you know that?" Harm asked her, as he stood up. He brushed the sand away from his jeans.

She shook her head. "Until you get to know me."

Harm stopped in his tracks and then turned around. Mac looked up at him, his loose jeans rolled up to the ankles, tight-fitting black t-shirt, and the wind-swept hair. He was an attractive man; that she couldn't deny.

He pointed at her, then shook his head. He then pivoted and returned to the bonfire area where they had drinks.

Mac figured that would be the last she would see of him until the end of the night when it was time to give them all a ride back to base. She decided to brush off the interaction and refocus on the waves. She spent most of her life in the desert, and she did not realize how relaxing the beach was. As she made a promise to herself to enjoy the beach that summer, she heard a flop next to her. Harm.

"So, Sarah of Arizona, what are you studying?" he asked her.

She looked back at him, confusion on her features.

"At Minn, what's your major?"

"Oh, uh. Poli-Sci," she said caught off-guard still by his return. Why was he back? Why hasn't he been pushed away by her standoffishness?

"Hm," he sipped his drink. "Lawyer, or something?"

She shrugged. "I'm trying to commission in the Marines."

"A Devil-Dog?!"

"What, you don't think I could do it?" she asked simultaneously offended and challenged by his tone.

"Uh what, no, no," he back-pedaled, then grinned. "Just that the Navy's better."

She rolled her eyes. "To each 'is own."

"Sarah, the Marine."

"Mac," she corrected. "I go by Mac."

He frowned. "Hmph. Okay, Mac."

She smiled, hearing him try out her nickname. "Do your friends call you Harmon, Harm, or Jr?"

"Rabb," he stated. "Or Harm."

"Okay, Rabb," she said, sounding out his name and trying to get the feel of it. She shook her head as he did. It didn't land.

"Try, Harm."

"Okay, Harm," she said. She let the silence fall between them after just feeling the way his name fell from her lips.

"Now we're friends, Mac," he said after a moment of silence.

She smiled. "In your dreams, Harm."

A/N: Hope you enjoyed!