Page 119 of Overtime
And shockingly, I’m the only one at O’Malley’s this time.
Well, Archie wanted to join me in my grouching, but he’s on a date with Christine from the Strikes. Mark’s down with the flu and didn’t even attend practice. And Jamal’s cramming for a midterm.
Being alone was probably what I needed, until Luz texted in the Rodriguez siblings’ group chat that she’s bored at our parents’ and demands a siblings’ night out. Her fiancé is backon the road, and since the remodeling she’s having done for the grand opening of her PT clinic isn’t finished, she’s back at the parents’ and bored out of her mind.
Now, she and Aceituna are on their way over to O’Malley’s, and I’m on my way over to being absolutely shitfaced. There’s only beer in my stomach, and that is no bueno, but all I can do is thwack and chug. Otherwise, I’ll punch something.
Why? It’s not because of what went down during practice. Nah. But because I sat by the lake for long enough that I got even more tanned and came up with exactlyzeroideas for how to get into Maddie’s good graces without being too pushy.
I’ve never been this stumped about a girl before. Because today, I realized they’ve always come to me. And if it makes me sound like an asshole, it’s because I am one.
So, when Luz said she wanted to hang out, I agreed right away because… maybe I need the female perspective from someone other than Ryan, who still wants to murder me. And I’m nervous as shit about the prospect of this conversation, so thwack and chug.
“Excuse me, can I get another one?” I ask the waiter passing by. He pauses, staring at my empty glass. Maybe he’s doing the math. I don’t tell him it’s my eighth. I do blurt out, “I’m not driving tonight.”
He takes my glass. “One more coming.”
“Thanks,” I say, all polite and shit.
The only place I’m driving myself to is hangover town. I have an exam tomorrow that will be super fun, but that’s a problem for future-Aran. Tonight-Aran needs beer so he can talk about feelings without socking himself in the nose.
I know the second my sisters arrive because the few people at O’Malley’s on a random weeknight start cheering like they’re seeing a celebrity. Because Luz is a superstar for the locals nearly as much as her future husband is. I throw one more dart andgrab onto air, because the waiter hasn’t come back with my refilled glass.
Sighing, I turn to face the incoming projectiles.
Luz is shaking hands and snapping selfies like a politician. Behind her, Liv rolls her eyes, already bored with everything.
Mierda, esto es una mala idea.
It’s too late to run, though. As if reading my mind, they both zero in on me. Of course, this is when the waiter comes back with a new glass of beer. Which I down in one go before Luz and Liv even reach me.
“Whoa, big guy. What’s up with you?”
Loaded question, to which I grunt.
“Can I even be here?” Olivia asks, glancing around. “This looks like a bar.”
“Of course you can. It’s not like we’re here to get sloshed like this Neanderthal here.” Luz pinches Liv’s cheek in the way that makes her recoil and bring the claws out. Which she does.
I signal the waiter again. “One more.” After a second, I add, “Please.”
Both of my sisters narrow their eyes at me. Then exchange looks. They think I can’t read the secret message, but I can. I grew up translating that language.
They’re thinkingWhat’s wrong with our robot?
They’re about to find out.
Slowly, I walk around them and slide into a booth. Everything spins. Maybe the ninth beer wasn’t a good idea.
They sit together across from me, and the second the waiter sets the new beer down before me, Luz swipes it and says, “Can we please have three loaded double cheeseburgers, one lettuce wrapped burger with no cheese, and a jumbo basket of fries?”
“I also want a Coke,” Liv adds. Luz repeats it to the waiter, as if he didn’t hear it himself. The guy nods, knowing the boss ofthis table isn’t the burly drunkard, but the first-ever captain of St. Cloud’s Thunder Strikes.
After he’s gone, Luz takes a healthy swig of the beer and, sighing, she says, “I’m sensing something’s up with our brother. Wouldn’t you agree, Olivia?”
“Oh, it’s written all over his grumpy mug,” my younger sister adds with a lopsided smirk. “It looks particularly grumpy today, in fact.”
Speaking of, I rub my face hard and keep it in my hands for a minute. I know two out of the three cheeseburgers are for me, and honestly, I’m starving. Also, a bad midweek hangover no longer sounds appealing.
