“Cami?”
“The last time I went with Trenton to The Red. You know how much I talk when I’m drunk.”
“I’ve forgotten,” I said.
Shepley reached for my hand as we walked inside, but at least two feet of space and unspoken thoughts were between us.
I glanced around Gator’s, looking up at the tall ceiling. Multicolored Christmas lights hung from the exposed ventilation system, the booth seats had ratty holes torn in the upholstery, and the floor had at least ten years of grime soaked into every twisted tuft of the worn carpet. Stale grease invaded my senses, and the rusted tin wainscot and charcoal-gray paint were more unwelcoming than the intended industrial chic.
“The two-star rating is making sense,” I said, shivering from the air-conditioning.
We waited so long for a table that I almost asked Shepley if we could leave, but then a blue-haired waitress with a chip on her shoulder and more piercings than she had holes showed us to two empty seats at the bar.
“Why did she seat us here?” I asked. “There are empty tables. There are a lot of empty tables.”
“Not even the employees want to be here,” Shepley said.
“Maybe we should just go?”
He shook his head. “We’ll just grab a quick bite and get back on the road.”
I nodded, unsettled.
The bartender wiped off the spaces in front of us and asked for our drink order. Shepley asked for a bottled water, and I ordered a strawberry lemonade.
“Not a beer? Why did you sit at the bar then?” the bartender asked, perturbed.
“We were seated here. It wasn’t a request,” I snapped.
Shepley patted my knee. “I’m driving. You can pour her a Bud Light. Draft, please.”
The bartender placed menus in front of us and walked away.
“Why did you order a beer?”
“I don’t want him telling the cooks to spit in our food, Mare. You don’t have to drink it.”
Thunder cracked outside and shook the building, and then rain began to pelt the roof.
“We can wait for the storm to pass somewhere, but I don’t want it to be here,” I said.
“Okay. We’ll find somewhere else even if it’s the parking lot.” He patted my knee again and then squeezed.
“Hey,” a man said, passing behind us with a friend. He looked drunk already, shuffling to a seat at the end of the bar. His eyes poured over me like dirty water.
“Hey,” Shepley answered for me. He locked eyes with the drunk.
“Baby,” I said in warning.
“Just showing him I’m not intimidated,” Shepley said. “Hopefully, he’ll be less inclined to bother us.”
The bartender returned with my strawberry lemonade and Shepley’s bottled water. “You ready to order?”
“Yeah, we’ll both have the southwest chicken wrap.”
“Fries or onion rings?”
“Neither.”
The bartender took our menus, eyed us, and then left to put in the order.
“Where the fuck is he going?” the drunk said to his friend.
“Calm down, Rich. He’ll be back,” he said, chuckling.
I tried to ignore them. “So, you’re considering the sports scout route?”
Shepley shrugged. “It’s a dream job. I’m not sure how realistic a venture it is, but yes, that’s the plan. Coach Greer said I should apply for a graduate assistant coaching position. He said I’d have a good chance. I’ll start there.”
“But … you don’t play football.”
Shepley shifted in his seat. “I did.”
“You … did? When?”
“Never college. I started all four years of high school. Believe it or not, I was pretty good.”
“What happened? And why haven’t you told me this before?”
Shepley pushed out his water as he leaned further up on the bar. “It’s stupid, I guess. It was the one thing I was better at than all my cousins.”
“But Travis doesn’t talk about it. Your parents don’t talk about it. If you started as a freshman, you must have been better than good. I haven’t even seen any pictures at your house that might insinuate you were in sports.”
“I blew three of four major ligaments in my knee during the last game before the play-offs my senior year. I worked hard to come back, but when I began training for Eastern, the knee didn’t feel the same. It still hadn’t healed, so I was a redshirt freshman. I wasn’t sure how long the coaches would wait, but I knew that even if they gave me the year, I would be done.” He sat up straight. “So, I bowed out.”
“That explains why you always say a different reason for the scars. I thought you were just embarrassed.”
“I was.”
I frowned. “That’s nothing to be embarrassed about. I can see why you want to be a part of it again.”
He nodded, the smile on his face revealing that he was just now realizing that fact himself.
He had opened up. It was the perfect opportunity for me to start a conversation about why the air had been so tense in the car, but as soon as I opened my mouth, I chickened out. “Thanks for telling me.”
“I should have told you a long time ago, but …” He trailed off.
Finally, curiosity and impatience won over fear. “Why does it feel so weird between us?” I asked. “What’s on your mind?”