Cody
Thank, fuck. I think as I walk through the door ofOur Father's Flag, the local watering hole that is owned by my buddy, Holt's family, for only about a million generations. It's a mix of dive bar and military memorabilia. It has been a rough damn day surrounded by crazy teenagers. I swear, I won't survive a year of teaching those little fuckers health class, sex ed, and driver's ed. My dad is clearly out to kill me.
Holt is just the most recent generation in all of the Stone's to serve their country, then come home to run this bar. Holt never wanted to run it, it was always supposed to be his twin brother Will, but he was killed overseas while I was away in New York, playing ball.
Holt came home and ran for Sheriff. Just like Sam came home a couple of years ago and became the Offensive Line Co-ordinator for our high school football team. I crapped out of the NFL in the fourth quarter of the Super Bowl and came back here to be the head football coach, you know, after re-learning how to walk. But lather, rinse, repeat, we all came home. One way or another.
I make my way to the darker, back corner of the bar and sit down in the very last booth, my back facing the door, and take a deep breath, my shoulders sagging in relief. I know what you're thinking, it's weird to sit down by yourself with your back facing away from the room, but I'm meeting Sam and Holt here, and those two can be cagey mother fuckers these days, so it's my little manly part to help ease whatever it is in their minds that has frayed edges.
Holt walks in and plops down on the bench across from me. Katy walks over and hands us each a beer she just poured. I smile at her as she winks at me. Holt just scowls as she walks away.
“What the actual fuck?” He growls. And I'll be damned if it doesn't catch me off guard. I might be a badass on the field, but I'm pretty sure Holt could kill me sixteen different ways with a pair of eyebrow tweezers.
“Umm, what?” I ask and I hate how shaky my voice sounds. Shit. I'm such a little girl.
“Is there something going on between you and Katy?” He asks straight out and I am dumbfounded as to why he would think that.
“Uhh, no,” I tell him. “Why would you even think that?”
“Because she winked at you,” he again says straight out. I like that about Holt, he never beats around the bush. That thought sends my immature mind directly into the gutter, and it's all I can do not to snicker, because no doubt Holt would take it the wrong way and punch me in the face. And I happen to like my face.
“Dude, she winks at everyone,” I tell him. Holt might be losing it a bit. I look at him a little closer and he holds my stare, I'll give him that, something is going on with him, I'm just not sure what. But I'll figure it out. That much I'm sure of.
“Humphh,” He concedes.
“Seriously. You know I am never getting involved again just to get burned again,” he looks at me. Like really looks at me until he nods once. I swear if he looked at me a second or two longer, I would have crapped my pants. I'm man enough to admit that.
“Hey guys, what's up?” Sam asks as he slides into the booth next to Holt with an easy smile.
“Holt's lost his damn mind,” I tell him. And he just chuckles.
“Is it over the new nurse?” Sam asks.
“What nurse?” I ask. I've been so busy with Spring Tryouts that I can't even remember my own name some days.
“The school nurse? Come on man, I know you've seen her,” Sam asks, holding his hands out from his chest. Almost like he's holding a pair of imaginary cantaloupes.
“Why would I? She's probably some old blue hair, right?” I ask. Holt and Sam share a look before throwing their heads back, laughing. I think about their reaction to my question before it dawns on me. “She's a babe? Really?” I ask because I can't help it.
“You interested?” Sam asks me.
“Don't be stupid,” I shoot him a withering look.
“So you wouldn't mind if someone else was interested?” Sam asks and this gets my Spidey senses tingling.
“You're not thinking of stepping out on Aliza are you?” I ask starting to get pissed. I see Holt stiffen next to Sam but wisely doesn't say anything.
“Of, course not, you moron. She is it for me. I meant Holt, you douche,” he tossed a handful of bar nuts at me.
“Jesus, you scared me,” I tell him.
“But still, you don't even want a look before someone else moves in? I mean it's kind of poetic, football coach and hot school nurse. Oh, God, do you think she has a nurse's uniform?” Sam asks, egging me on. He's been telling me for months to get back on the horse, but I just can't bring myself to do it.
“Nope. Not dating. Ever again, man. You know that,” I tell him, eating one of the peanuts I pull out of the collar of my school polo shirt.
“So, Holt, can go after her?” He asks, sharing another mysterious look with Holt.
“Sure, man. Go get 'em, Tiger,” I say and laugh.
