Chapter 4
HAPPY HOUR AND HOMEWORK
MOLLY
The Horseshoe is nestled in the heart of Main Street, a quaint little bar with all the small-town charm I've come to expect from Roseville.
It's unassuming enough from the outside, sharing a wall and owners with The Filly next door. It’s the fanciest restaurant in town, touting a mean salad bar with fancy olives and everything.
The inside of The Horseshoe is a wash of honey blonde wood from walls to floor, complete with sawdust and peanut shells everywhere but the dance floor, which is currently empty.
But I see old Bud Collier eyeing it from the end of the bar as George Strait plays on.
Last time I was here, he was out there two-stepping alone, drunk as a skunk.
If I knew how to two-step, I would have joined him just so he didn't look so lonely.
Cass is just sitting down and waves at me, and the gang turns and smiles, greeting me as I approach. My cheeks warm with my smile, my heart filled with a giddy gratitude for finding a place in the group of friends.
"Hey, y'all," I say, taking the seat next to Shelby and across from Cass, who's sitting between her best friend Jessa and her husband, Wilder. "Look at you two, out on a school night."
"I know!" Cass says with a smile. "Gonna get cray-zay."
Wilder smirks at her, his eyes all lovey dovey. He hands her the beer he just poured her from one of the foamy, golden pitchers on the table. "Thursday night crazy?"
She shrugs as she takes it. "Why not?" When she brings it to her lips and takes a sip, she closes her eyes and hums. "Man, that's good."
I want that feeling. But beer smells so bad, I can't fathom that particular beverage bringing that kind of vibe to the party in my mouth.
"How was work, Molly?" Jessa asks from the other side of Cass in that lovely British accent. She looks like a doll, with golden blonde hair and bright blue eyes and flawless, porcelain skin.
"Well, a second grader smuggled his class guinea pig into the library for story time by way of his hoodie pocket, which caused a lot of ruckus when she escaped and ran off.
Oh, and, during quiet reading, one of Cass's first graders announced real loud that he farted in the non-fiction. The kids nearly lost their minds."
A chuckle rolls around the table even down to where Tate and Carlin sit. The bartender, Leo, brings me a Shirley Temple, slipping it onto the table with a wink. I whisper a thank you.
Cass shakes her head. "Ethan Martin. He brought his mom's bra to show and tell last week and told the class it was a sling shot for big kids."
Remy barks a laugh. "Wonder what his mama thought of that when you told her."
"Are you kidding?" Cass's brow arches. "I'm not about to tell Carrie her son brought her underwear to school for show and tell.
I made him promise to go home, put it back where he found it, and then never, ever speak of it again.
I swear, he says everything he thinks out loud.
In the middle of a lesson about the silent e, he raised his hand and asked, Is the e silent because it's dead? "
Shelby sighs next to me. "At least yours do wild shit because they're little. Mine are just wild."
"Oh no," Jessa says. "What happened?"
"So much." Shelby sounds exhausted. "The highlights?
Two players are fighting over one of the varsity baseball boys.
Our freshman pitching prodigy quit cheerleading to play softball and hasn't told her mom.
And two other players are fighting over said ex-cheerleader.
One of these days, I'm just going to let them smack each other around, but I'm afraid I'll lose half my team to broken hands and orthodontist appointments. "
"Tate almost burned the fire station down yesterday," Wilder says with a smug look on his face.
Tate groans, rolling his eyes. "You are so dramatic, dude. It wasn't even that big of a deal."
"So," Wilder continues, "Tate has this big idea that he's gonna cook dinner, right? Except he can't cook for shit. Honestly, it's probably my fault. I should have assigned him a handler."
"It was spaghetti, for god's sake," Tate notes. "Not rocket science."
"And yet your dumbass didn't drain the three pounds of meat you cooked, then left the sauce cooking on high with no lid. Grease was splattering all over the place, and we have a gas range."
"You are such a baby. It was just a little grease fire."
"The fucking fire alarm went off in the firehouse." Wilder's half laughing along with the table, and Tate is draped in his seat like he doesn't give a damn.
"Whatever, man. Tasted fine," he says with a shrug. "That's the last time I offer to cook, that's for damn sure. Ingrates."
Remy jerks his chin at his cousin, Cass. "Hey, how's your teacher league going?"
"So far, so good. We've only had one practice. Well, tryouts, I guess? We kick it off for real next week. Mostly I think everyone's glad to have a team. Molly's playing! She did great, got out there and really gave it her all."
Everyone's attention turns to me, and heat washes across my skin, warming my cheeks.
I push my glasses up my nose and laugh. "I don't know about great--I couldn't catch or throw.
Or hit the ball. And I fell twice. But it was the best time I've had in forever.
" It's genuine, the warmth of it replacing my uncertainty at all the attention.
Shelby wears a sly smile. "She fell twice--right into Coach's arms."
Surprise hits the guys at the table.
At the mention of Wolf Daddy, the heat on my cheeks goes nuclear. "The first time, I landed on Cass. So really, he only caught me once, and I nearly fell on him. He either had to catch me or get hit."
"I have never seen his face so red," Shelby notes, smiling huge. "God, I love when he's embarrassed. It's so rare. Aren't y'all doing a little one-on-one training tomorrow?"
This time, the guys all woo and ooh-la-la.
Tate waggles his brows. "Coach is gonna show you his moves."
Remy shorts a laugh. "Coach? Coach has all the moves of a bear woken up early from hibernation. I swear he yells at kids to get off his lawn in his sleep."
I shrug, laughing. "To be fair, I need to learn all the moves he's got to teach. I literally threw the ball backwards somehow. My terribleness defies the laws of physics. I'd have been mad if it wasn't so funny."
"Well, Greyson is the best coach in the tri-state," Shelby assures me. "He turned these assholes around, so as far as I'm concerned, he can defy physics too."
Wilder throws a fry at her from across the table, but she bats it with her palm just in time to send it straight back to him. It hits his broad chest and falls into his lap. His face flattens. Hers is smug again.
"Where is that old bastard anyway," Remy asks, shifting to retrieve his phone.
"Yeah, let's see if we can get him out of his cave," Tate says, reaching for his too. "Bombardment! Even Grey isn't immune to peer pressure."
Their attention turns to their group chat, including Shelby, and Cass leans to talk to Jessa for a minute. With no one to talk to, I take a sip of my drink, wondering if I should get my phone out too. But then Carlin moves to the empty seat between me and Remy.
He smiles, ducking a little beneath the brim of his Ramblers baseball cap.
His brown, shaggy hair flips out from the bottom of it in charming, boyish chaos.
He's cute, though not in the same way the other beefcakes at the table.
No, Carlin is smaller, with finer bones, leaner muscles, the same they've said he's built since joining the team.
The shape of his face is softer, without the brutal sharpness the others bear.
It's endearing, I think. Makes him so much easier to talk to.
I like him. I just wish I liked him as much as he likes me.
"Hey," I say with a smile.
"Hey," he answers, and for a second, we just smile at each other. "Brought you something." He half turns to reach into his messenger bag. In one hand is a bag of Nerds Clusters and in the other he holds the next compendium of Fables, a graphic novel he got me on.
I light up, taking it with both hands and opening it. "Oh my gosh! You brought it. And snacks! Thank you! Dang, I wish you’d texted me—I would have brought the first compendium for you."
Carlin shrugs. "That's okay. Not like I won't see you again. We’re still on to watch Pride and Prejudice this weekend? Again?"
“Oh, don’t say it like that. You like it.”
A chuckle as he leans in. “Don’t tell them but I kinda do.”
“Knew it,” I say, smiling, busy thumbing through the book. "I am so excited to find out what happens next."
"I knew you'd love it. When you're finished with these, I'm gonna get you hooked on Once & Future."
My attention is recaptured. "King Arthur?"
His smile is almost wicked. "Yup. With a twist. Don't look it up, okay? I want it to be a surprise."
"Okay," I say on a laugh.
Tate pshaws. "Jesus, Carlin, is that a book?" When the table laughs, he adds, "Leave it to Carlin to bring homework to happy hour."
"Hey," I shoot back lightly, "I'll sign up for books at happy hour every single time."
"Here, here," Cass says, raising her pint.
"Nerrrrrrrds," Tate calls, winking at me as Cass and I clink our glasses together.
I'm filled with an effervescence, a bubbling warmth of belonging and friendship that I haven't felt in a long, long time. After high school, my friends moved away, leaving me with nothing but my parents. And while I love them, they're not enough. That life isn't enough. But this?
This could be.