Page 17 of The Problem with Players

Evan almost smiled, but before he could reply, we were being called to the bar to take a shot with the other guys. We headed to join them and found a line of shots set out. Easton turned and handed one to me and another to Evan.

“Sweet Miss Avery made some birthday shots for the boys,” Easton said as Avery pulled out a lighter.

“Happy Birthday, River and Grant. This is your year, boys,” Avery stated. Seeing her treat my brothers so kindly while she handled me as if I was scum annoyed me. The tinge of jealousy hit me hard.

River patted his twin’s chest. “See? Told you it’s my year!”

“And mine!” Grant urged.

Avery looked like she was in a damn good mood. Sheplaced the birthday boys’ shots in front of her, sprinkled something on top, and lit them on fire. “Happy Birthday, boys. Make a wish.”

River and Grant shut their eyes for a moment, then blew out the shots.

“Give a toast, Nathan!” Grant requested as he picked up his shot. “You always give the best toasts.”

I smiled and held up my shot glass. “River and Grant, life was a lot less hectic before you came along, but it wasn’t anywhere near as fun. Here’s to the birthday boys, who’ve been copying and pasting each other since day one. May your nights be as long as your arguments and your hangovers be as short as your differences. Cheers, brothers!”

“Cheers!” they all shouted, tapping their glasses on the bar countertop before downing the shots. The moment I put my shot glass on the countertop, I caught Avery’s stare.

It wasn’t packed with the same hatred as before. Her look seemed more curious this time. Soft. Unalert. With haste, she shook off the stare and gathered the shot glasses to clean up.

The guys headed off to play a round of darts, leaving me sitting at the bar as Avery cleaned. She was the only one working behind the counter, but that seemed fine, seeing as how the place wasn’t packed. It had a handful of regulars, my brothers, and me that night. Most people in town went over to Stan’s Bar and Grill on Saturday nights. That was why the boys preferred O’Reilly’s—they had more opportunities to get wasted and take over the jukebox.

“Since when are you a bartender?” I asked when I had built up enough courage to speak to Avery. I didn’t know why, but that woman made me nervous. I wasn’t used to getting nervous around people, but she sure knew how to shake me.

She glanced over her shoulder toward me before returning to drying the shot glasses. “Since I get paid a teacher’s salary.”

“I always thought it was awful how little teachers got paid.Other professions shouldn’t be making anywhere near what they do, compared to teachers.”

“Says the fancy MLB player offered multimillion-dollar contracts,” she huffed. She tossed her towel over her shoulder and placed a hand against her hip. Her hip that she’d popped out. Her hip that my eyes fell straight toward. The way that body curved…

“You need another drink?” she asked.

“No, I still have my beer over at the table.”

“Then stop taking up my bar space.”

I scanned the empty bar. “No one’s here.”

“I like to keep my counter space open if people do wander in. So if you could please leave,” she said as she began to tie up a trash bag. She pulled it from the container and started heading for the back door. I sat in my seat for a moment, still feeling the urge to talk to her about what happened yesterday at the high school. So I stood and I followed her outside to the gated area with the giant trash bins. As I stepped outside, I closed the still-opened door, swinging it shut behind me.

“Hey, Avery. I was hoping we could talk about?—”

She turned quickly at the sound of the slamming door and shouted, “No!” She hurried over to the door right after it clicked shut. Her hand wrapped around the doorknob, and she pulled it repeatedly, but it didn’t budge.

Oh shit.

We were locked out.

“Dammit!” she yipped as she pounded her hands against the door, trying to make as much noise as possible. Unfortunately, the music inside was too loud from the jukebox, which my brothers added more coins to with every passing minute.

She turned to me with a murderous look in her eyes. I could feel her rage from the intensity of her stare. If possible, I wouldn’t have been shocked if smoke started shooting out of her ears.

“What are you doing?!” she shouted, flailing her arms in the air. “That door locks from the inside when it shuts!”

“Why would they make a door that locks from the inside?”

“Why would you follow me out here?” she countered.

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