Great, now I need to use the vibrator
Princess, you cannot tell me that
Turnabout is fair play
Fine. Then I need to go take a long cold shower
Think of me >
You know I do, Princess
“Is this your first time in Nashville?” Angie expertly dodges a group of people onBroadway as we navigate our way to the bar.
“Yeah. I wish we had more time here.”
Neon lights fight for attention on both sides of the closed-off street. Music filters out from every bar we pass, mostly hopeful singers wanting a contract to become the next big thing. There’s more people crowded on this street than I’ve ever seen in my life.
“If only Harper were here this week.”
“Where’s she this week?” I ask, nearly running into someone who stumbles out of a bar. Angie tried to make plans for us to meet up with one of her closest friends, but she wasn’t in town this weekend.
“It’s her mom’s birthday, so she made a long weekend of it at home.”
“Can’t say I’d want to be here with so many people.”
Angie laughs as she finds the bar we’re looking for and guides us inside. “She’s used to this. Not sure if she’s used to this many hockey fans.”
“Even if we don’t like the Knights, it’s not a bad spot to have the All-Star Game.”
Angie sidles up to the bar, finding a small break in the people to order us drinks. White wine for her and an old fashioned for me.
“Are you excited about Cash’s first All-Star Game?”
“Is it weird I’m nervous?” I ask her, a bit louder than necessary given the number of people in here.
Two drinks are dropped off and Angie pulls out two twenties to pay him.
Angie links her arm through mine as we walk through the crowded bar toward a quiet table in the back, trying not to spill our drinks.
The bar is packed, wall-to-wall with hockey fans with various jerseys from all the teams represented. A country tune plays as people dance to the music.
It’s everything a Nashville bar should be.
“I was nervous for Troy’s first one, but not anymore.”
“Do you get used to it?” I ask.
Not that I should get used to it. Because Cassie said after the All-Star break, we were done. Cash’s image has rebounded with the press.
Snarky comments after games? None.
Getting into fights on the ice? Only when they really deserve it.
Sweet and attentive boyfriend? Check and check.
“It’s not as bad during the regular season,” Angie tells me, sipping on her wine. “But the playoffs? I’m a ball of nerves the entire time.”
I laugh. If only Cash and I would make it that far.
