pinky promise - jamie tartt

‟ BE A GOLDFISH „

˗ˏˋ 'ˎ˗

Tate could only stand sitting in her office for so long before she decide that she needed to leave to preserve her sanity.

Which was how she ended up in the locker room shortly after training ended, playfully rolling her eyes at Richard winking at her.

"Hi, Sammy." Tate greeted her friend at his stall. Immediately, she knew something had happened during training. His shoulders were tense, a frown plastered on his face that looked completely foreign. "Everything alright?"

"I'm trying to be a goldfish." He grumbled, not looking up from where he was untying his cleats. She had yet to adapt the English term of calling them boots, and she knew it bothered the rest of the team beyond belief. Which was another reason why she continued to call them cleats.

"Okay," Tate dragged the word out, brows knitted together in confusion. She glanced to Isaac, who was two stalls down, and he shrugged in response at her silent question. "Well, do you want to explain to me what the fuck that means over take away tonight?"

"Yeah, that sounds good." Sam sighed, rolling his shoulders as he sat back up to his full height. Tate rolled her eyes playfully, pinching his cheek to try and make him lose the frown.

"Smile, please." She ordered, and though he swatted her hand away, he did as asked. The world was righted once more by her best friend's grin. At his own stall a few spots down, Jamie Tartt scoffed, and Tate used every ounce of her self-control to keep from biting his head off.

"Oi, can we come to dinner too?" Isaac asked, gesturing to himself and Colin. She snorted at the hopeful looks on their faces and glanced at Sam, who shrugged.

"Yes, you may come." She nodded, chuckling as Colin cheered at the invite. Facing the rest of the team, she added, "You all can come too, if you'd like."

"Whose place?" Colin asked, glancing at the several additional players who stated that they would come to dinner too. Richard, Zoreaux, Bumbercatch, and Winchester all voiced their acceptance of the invite.

"Not Tate's." Richard's face scrunched up, his comment earning several mumbled agreements.

"Fuck off! My apartment is great!" Tate argued, crossing her arms. Deep down, though, she knew that her apartment wasn't the greatest, and that it definitely wouldn't fit the number of professional athletes that wanted to come.

"It's shit." Isaac stated plainly, earning a glare from Tate.

"It's not expensive, and not a horrible commute, and—"

"And if you don't come to work one day, we'll know you've been murdered in your shitty little flat." Roy interceded, his gravely monotone ringing throughout the locker room. Tate gasped dramatically, a hand pressed to her heart for affect. She had to admit, though, that Chase had voiced that same concern when she first moved into her place the previous year.

"You've all been to Tate's flat?" Jamie asked, the confusion in his tone halting the rest of the conversation going on around him. Sam just shook his head, an annoyed expression taking over once more. At least Tate knew what was weighing on him so heavily.

"It's called being friends, Jamie." She rolled her eyes. In the early days of her getting close to the team, she had tried to approach Jamie, to extend the same invitations to him that the rest of the team got. But he had either ignored her or been a dick, and eventually she stopped trying.

And yet, she couldn't stop the way her heart twinged with guilt for not inviting him.

"Alright, listen up!" Ted shouted, stepping out of his office with Beard and the kit man, Nate. "Oh, Tater Tot's here! How ya doin'?"