Page 40 of Touchdown, Tennessee
Something had dug under my skin and it wouldn’t let go.
Or maybe it had always been there.
Maybe it waspart of me.
I turned the key in the ignition and revved the engine, taking off through the lot. I drove through the campus streets, feeling hostility radiating outward at me even though I knew it was only coming from inside.
My childhood trauma could whip back through me out of nowhere, from small things like a guy behind me in line being a dick to me.
Because when you grow up being treated like you’re damaged goods, you don’t even know what it feels like to be whole.
When it came back, it always felt like fire.
Emotional whiplash.
Like everyone in the world could see that ugly, broken thing inside me. Like I was failing to keep it hidden.
I sank my foot onto the gas pedal as I hit the main road that led into the heart of Bestens. The further I got, the more quaint everything around me became, and once I turned off onto Laurel Ave, the small-town charm of Bestens, Tennessee was on full display.
They’d started draping everything with autumn-themed decorations like the town had collectively decided that fall washere.
Little leaf garlands with twinkly lights, wrapped around the lamp posts.
Pumpkins lining the sidewalks of various shops.
There was a scarecrow outside the hardware store, and two coffee shops had signs outside advertising their pumpkin, maple, and spiced cocoa drinks were back.
“This place looks like a movie set,” I told the young bartender as I walked into the Hard Spot Saloon, which had its own autumn decor all over the bar.
The bartender gave me a grin. “Wait ‘til you try the updated fall cocktail menu.”
“Your name was Max, right?” I asked him.
He was wearing a white T-shirt with glittery lettering on the front that saidThirst Responder.
“Max Burnett, at your service.”
I sat down at one of the booths closest to the bar. It was still early afternoon, and the Hard Spot was fairly empty. I pulled my sandwich out of my bag and set it on the table, leaning back.
Max came out from behind the bar soon after, sliding a thin piece of paper in front of me.
“I was only going to make one fall cocktail, but I ended up with six.”
“More is always better when it comes to liquor, I suppose,” I told him, browsing the menu. I remembered the Poison Ambrosia from last time I was here, but I didn’t need to spend more money today. “I’m probably just going to have the Hard Spot IPA. But thank you.”
At least in here I didn’t have to feel weird about purposely ordering the cheapest beer on the menu.
I opened up my sandwich and dug in, sliding out my phone while I waited.
Gray: Tell me again why you wanted to study in a bar?
Andrew: I learn better when I’m surrounded by cowboys and farmers getting drunk.
Well, it’s not busy at 1:30pm, at least.
You look hot in that light blue sweater.
I glanced up, scanning the room for Andrew, but I didn’t see him. A smile tugged at one corner of my mouth, finally relaxing a little bit of the tension in my body.
