Booker: Probably beginner’s luck, but I’ll take it.
Fallon: Don’t even start that modest bullshit. Be proud of yourself!
Booker: I promised you a birthday drink, and I’ll deliver, but I’ve got to do some media stuff first. We’re meeting at the bar in your hotel, right?
Fallon: Media stuff…my brother, the celebrity. And yes, it’s called Laguna.
Booker: Awesome. I won’t be too long. Love you.
Fallon: Love you back.
Just as I’m gathering my things to catch a ride with the girls, Mickey bounds over to us. “You ladies ready to go?” he asks. “Booker’s team is heading over to a bar a couple blocks down from our hotel, so we figure we’ll start there and see where the night takes us.”
“I’ll go out for a bit, but then the night is taking me to my bed,” Maggie jokes.
“That’s not the night, baby, that’s me,” JT teases, coming over to join us. “What about you, Fallon? Should we go toast your brother because that game-winning goal was the stuff my nightmares are made of.”
As the team’s goalie, it makes sense that a shot like Booker’s would be both frightening and electrifying to JT. “I’m heading back to the hotel. Booker’s meeting me for a quick drink and then I promise I’ll send him right back to you guys.”
When the ride share drops us off, the guys try to coax me into joining the fun, but the truth is that all that noise and a long day of travel means I just want to take my hearing aids off and crawl into bed. There’s a headache taking hold at the base of my neck, and I know if I join everybody at the bar, I’ll be crawling back to my room at four in the morning and tomorrow will be miserable.
It doesn’t feel right, leaving you here alone,JT signs.
I’m fine, I sign back. And I’m not alone. The bar is half full.
JT rolls his eyes as he signs,That’s not what I meant.
I know, but it’s true,I sign, laughingat the expression on his face. I start to assure him that Booker will be here any minute, but Ollie saunters up and joins our conversation, uninvited.
She’s not alone, Brick. I’ll hang with Fallon until Booker gets here. Once she heads up to her room, we’ll meet you guys. Just text if you move on to another bar.
Sounds good, JT signs, clapping Ollie on the back and pulling me in for a hug.
I don’t protest because JT and Maggie deserve a night out since Coach’s wife is staying back at the hotel with Calla. I know that if I put up a fuss, they’ll stay here with me instead of enjoying a night with their friends. But the truth is, I’m more than a little annoyed with my friend and his overbearing teammate. I’m a grown adult. I know thenumber of safe spaces shrinks daily on this planet, but surely I can sit by myself in a bar for fifteen minutes. The implication that I can’t just pisses me off and makes me feel like a kid again.
But when JT glances my way to see if I’m okay with my chaperone, I smile and assure him everything is cool. The man’s nights are routinely spent caring for an infant, so I’m not standing in the way of his one night out even if it means I have to tolerate Ollie until my brother rescues me.
A group enters the bar behind us, forcing us further inside. We funnel through the crowd and toward the bar. When Ollie snags the last available high-top table, I decide to dial down the hostility a little. But not too much. If I’m spending the next half hour with Ollie, some level of hostility is required.
18
Fallon
Everyone in the bar bustles around us, but we just sit across from each other, like we’re both not sure what’s going to happen next. Ollie checks his phone before setting it face down on the table. His eyes find mine and even though I’d rather be just about anywhere else, I can’t look away.
You still pissed at me?He signs.
Nope,I sign back.I love being treated like a child who can’t be left alone for more than a few minutes.
Frustration blankets Ollie’s handsome face. The man could be a model, seriously, and that furrowed brow just makes him look hotter, but I’ll never admit it out loud.
It’s not our fault the world is full of assholes and predators,he signs. Besides, maybe I’m not just here to keep you from being hit on by drunken dipshits. Maybe I want to buy you a drink myself.
The bar is small and getting crowded, so our seating arrangement is cozy. I can see the dark blond stubble that shadows his jawline and smell the sandalwood scent of his cologne. His lips are full, and his eyes have the mischievoustwinkle of a man who knows how to break the rules without getting caught.
Good thing I’m immune to all that charm.
I’ll buy my own drink, I sign.
