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But the more I thought through his words, the more I moved from feeling regretful to feeling angry.
What acocky bastardfor saying I’d think of him on all my future dates. Who was he to say that? Fine,yes,there was a definite connection between us, but I could, and Iwould,find that with someone else. In fact, now I was determined to find it as fast as possible just to make him eat his stupid words.
19. Josie
On Wednesday night, I threw on a tight, black, long-sleeve dress and paired it with off-black nylons and tall high-heeled boots before heading out to meet some of the teachers at The Blitz for Teachers Get Trashed night.
The Blitz was your typical hole-in-the-wall sports bar. It had low-lighting and signed Detroit sports flags and jerseys hung up all over in disarray, as well as plenty of flat screens for watching games. The bar was basically a large square island, with seats on all four sides, and then tables and lounge areas surrounded it. The dance floor, as well as an elevated stage for when they had live music, were toward the back of the bar.
I’d only ever really gone to The Blitz for dinner before hitting up one of the Crewmen games with family, so I’d never seen the nighttime crowd, but from what I heard, it definitely got rowdy some nights, and I was excited to finally be a part of it.
Because it was a Wednesday night, there thankfully wasn’t a line to get in, which was a good thing because I decided to forgo wearing a heavy jacket, even though it was December in Michigan. I knew it was kind of a stupid decision, but I figured the bar was only a quick brisk walk away from my apartment and I didn’t want to risk losing a jacket or having to lug one around the bar all night– a definite dance floor mood killer would be having to carry a big puffer jacket under your arm. Plus, what would I do with it if a guy asked me to dance? I’d end up leaving it at a table for it to be stolen. And that’s honestly what I was after tonight– finding a nice, cute guy to dance the night away with. A guy who wasnotTyler Jettersen.
Because I’ll admit it… what he said about getting stuck in my head… it was somehow frickin’ true. Because here I was, thinking about him, wondering if I should try the unofficial drink named after him, and wondering if he’d show up here tonight– because this was apparently where his team hung out all the time.
But what would be the point of seeing him? Yes, I wanted to get under his skin and see that grin of his, and yes, I desperately wanted him to touch me again…
But would any of that change my stance?
No.
So, as I scanned the bar for my fellow teachers, I very maturely decided I would not think about him anymore for the rest of the–
“Josie!” Sabrina, a fellow English teacher, stood and waved her hands, beckoning me over to the table they had in the middle of the bar.
I quickly made my way over to the group and was surprised to see a lot of the middle-aged teachers who had kids had also made it out for the night.
They called out their hellos and I sat at the end of the table next to Sabrina, an older math teacher who was usually all business named Lisa, and the new home-ec teacher named Suzie.
Lisa quickly passed me the pitcher of margarita. “Drink up, Josie. You’ve gotta catch up.”
“Catch up? Didn’t it just start?”
“Yes, but I think the history guys at the end of the table have been going at it since the Lions game at noon. Poor Greg’s been trying to keep up. Should’ve known better.”
I peeked at the end of the table and clearly saw what she meant. The history department mostly consisted of larger men who also coached our school’s football team and looked like they manned the O-line back in their athletic days… But poor Greg, “Mr. Richards” to the kids, was a light-weight beanpole. His eyes were currently bloodshot and he was shoveling a cheeseburger in his face to try and sober up a bit.
We fell into a comfortable rhythm of our usual conversation– mostly swapping stories about our troublemaker students. Believe it or not, teachers usually cracked up laughing when talking about the crazy excuses kids dished out to us day in and day out.
“Brady actually made me a little mock ‘Get out of jail free card’ like the ones you play monopoly with? Because I took his phone away and put it in “cell phone jail,” Lisa said.
We all busted up laughing about that one.
“I mean, it was actually pretty detailed, I should show it to Trish,” Lisa said with a harrumph. Trish, who dressed in long, pretty dresses every day, was our school’s resident art teacher. She was currently looking three sheets to the wind along with the history guys.
“Ugh, speaking of Trish!” Suzie announced, slapping the table.
“Nope!” Trish complained.
Suzie rolled her eyes. “I was trying to set her up with one of my boyfriend’s friends,” she said quietly. “It was a no-go, apparently she doesn’t like athletes.”
“Finally, someone I agree with!” I lifted my frozen margarita towards Trish and we clanked our glasses together. I took a large gulp then and had to squeeze my eyes shut against the brain freeze. “And please,” I said, “no talk of men right now.”
“Why? It’s my favorite topic,” Suzie said, wagging her eyebrows. I’m sure it was, she was the teacher all the girls went to for guy advice and to gossip about their crushes.
I blew out a sigh. “This guy is stuck in my head, and he’s driving me nuts. Not how I want to spend my break.”
“Sothat’swhere that hickey came from!” Suzie exclaimed. My hand slapped my neck and my face burned red. I spent extra time applying makeup to try and cover it up, but I guess it hadn’t helped. “I wasn’t going to say anything about it, but I could totally tell,” she said with a giggle.
