Page 72 of Romance Languages

20

SEAMUS

The weekend flew by in a flurry of baseball tryouts and picking up extra shifts at the soul-sucking real estate data entry job. Julian and I texted throughout the weekend, but we were both too busy to meet up. Julian was in the thick of finalizing party stuff.

A part of me was admittedly dragging things out. Once Julian and I had sex, our arrangement would be over.

On Monday, all the South Rock coaches had a mandatory meeting with the athletics director for the school district. He liked to call these meetings, where nothing of value was discussed but he got to stand at the front of a room and bloviate for forty-five minutes about how we were training the next generation of athletes.

Hutch, Raleigh, and I traded looks throughout the meeting, trying to make each other laugh. After it was over, we unanimously decided that we needed a drink and headed to Stone’s Throw Tavern.

We grabbed a booth by the big windows in the back which overlooked the river. Sure, there were other watering holes in town we could try, but none of them could compare with this place.

“You guys, we’re not ordering drinks, we’re finding and nurturing the next generation of winners,” Hutch said in mock seriousness.

“I think Johnson misses coaching,” Raleigh said. “He’s the administration now.”

“He’s still a tool.” Hutch rolled his eyes and scanned the beer selection at the bar. He was still raw about how Johnson had tried to railroad Amos last year for failing one of South Rock’s star athletes.

“And if you’re going to monologue at us, at least punch up your script,” Raleigh said.

“Monologue?” I raised my eyebrows.

“This is what happens when you date a theater nerd. You learn a whole new vocabulary. Apparently, blocking in theater doesn’t mean protecting your lead actor from getting tackled.” Raleigh checked out the tap menu on the wall, big wooden planks with beer names on them.

I glanced at the tap menu like I’d done before, but there was nothing that called out to me. I scanned the menu.

“Are you getting apps?” Raleigh asked.

“Nah. Just looking for something to drink.”

The waitress, a redhead named Penny, approached. Her bangs fell into her eyes. Usually, I would find a gal like this attractive, but tonight, I felt nothing. My dick was still asleep from that meeting.

“Evening, gentlemen. What are we thinking about for tonight?”

“I’m going to take the Pilsner IPA,” Hutch said.

“I’ll do the Goose Island,” Raleigh said, double-checking his selection on the tap menu. “Yeah, the Goose Island.”

“Great.” Penny scribbled it down. “And you?”

“What kind of red wines do you have?” I asked.

Hutch and Raleigh turned to me in unison, reacting as if I’d just spoken Mandarin out of nowhere.

“Excuse me?” Penny asked.

“Do you serve wine?”

“Wine? Um, I think so. It’s not really our specialty. I’ll grab you a wine menu,” Penny said, unsettled by my question. She darted off.

I spun a coaster on the table, not looking at my colleagues.

“Wine,” Hutch said.

“Red wine.” Raleigh nodded his head.

Penny came back menuless. “So we don’t have a wine menu. We have a merlot and a cabernet. And for whites, we have a riesling, chardonnay, and pinot noir.”

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