Starting Over (ITILMBBF Sequel)

Heartless

The bar is packed after the game.

Home team lost, meaning all the girls here are extra likely to put out, though the players have yet to make an appearance. They will eventually. This is the bar for sports teams by our college campus. The team is just building up anticipation among their fans. Chace told me that earlier this week. When I was set to come with the guys, he let me know that aside from showers and Coach Orsen's post-game speech the team usually mullies about. When we stopped talking, I presumed I was no longer invited to after game drinks. So I picked up a shift to make some extra cash. And while I wasn't looking forward to seeing a certain duo on the team I was still perplexed that they were this late.

I gave my watch a glance. It was a quarter after ten and the game ended at five. They might've pregamed their post-game drinks back at our house, but even that shouldn't have taken this long. Their anticipation game was building a pressing anxiety in my chest that I couldn't explain. I suppose I'm fearful of seeing Chace again, though I hate to admit it.

Luckily, Jackie fixed my makeup, as promised, so I'm still pretty enough to get tipped. All the sports bros have been drunk since eleven this morning and a hell of a lot freer with their wallets. Not to mention their bravado in giving an unknown bar tender their phone numbers. It twinges my heart that none of these numbers belong to my guy.

Speaking of numbers, Jackie and I traded ours. I'm to let her know the second my shift ends and she'll bring over pints of ice cream to binge eat away my sadness. It's not the healthiest undertaking, but Ben & Jerrys will be healing my wounds tonight. A fact that I resigned myself to when the football team walks in.

My eyes flit back to the bar speedily. I don't even want to chance eye contact with my brother or my ex. They lost their game and will probably be picking up chicks tonight to mend their wounds. The walls are thin so I'll eventually hear about it, but I'd prefer not to catch a live showing.

As I serve people I'm praying the football team finds a seat and waits for a waitress instead of coming up to the bar. I don't want to see another set of board shoulders and a face full of good looks for the rest of the night. Unfortunately, I have no luck with that, as two players decked out in Miami State windbreakers come meandering up to the bar. The crowd parts for them, like Moses splitting the Red Sea, it's a divine act of worship. Miami State loves their athletes.

At least it's not the boys who shall not be named. Chace and Adam knew I worked at a bar, but they don't know it was this one. I'm guessing their combined reaction wouldn't be pretty. As Aaron pointed out all that time ago, the ref uniforms aren't modest and the two football players in front of me are getting an eyeful of cleavage- one which has secured plenty of tips tonight.

One of the player's dark brows pull in and he dares to ask, "Adam knows you work here?"

I blink a few times because I swear I've never met this man before in my life and I highly doubt Adam's been boasting about me lately. But the longer I look the more obvious it becomes that I do in fact recognize him. He was one of the meat heads that I met the first day I moved in. He'd come back to our house after practice sweat slicked before marching into Chace's room with the lot of them. I think his name is Ray.

I suppress a sigh. It's not completely unlikely that Adam would have given his team the riot act with how protective he is of me. Was of me. God only knows what's going through his mind right now. He's seemed to do a complete one eighty personality wise. Thinking about it is depressing, so instead I steal myself and play the tough little sister for these two massive men.