Red Bull

seventeen

THE NIGHT WASN'T OVER YET. It was a long ways away from being over. It was one of those days where you felt like a whole week was packed into only 24 hours.

Me and Bob were introverts, much quieter people compared to the rest of the group, and we considered going straight home to do our own thing instead of celebrating with the rest of the detachment tonight.

"Nobody would miss us," I argue, pushing my hair behind my ears.

"That's a lie," Bob retorts. "Coyote is literally calling you right now, probably asking where you are. And Phoenix texted me to see if we were coming."

"Okay fine. Maybe we should go. After all, it is the last time all of us will be in one place for a long, long time." I convince myself out loud.

And so we went.

I had driven my car over to the Hard Deck, while Bob took the passenger seat. And when we arrived, the Hard Deck was jam packed full of people. Tonight was the busiest night I had ever seen there.

Penny was no where in sight, which didn't help the long line for liquor. It also explained why Maverick's motorcycle wasn't outside the bar. He wasn't there to celebrate with the rest of the detachment. 

His absence wasn't distracting, there was a million other things to talk about.

I finally squeezed my way to the bar, dragging Bon behind me.

"Can I get a Red Bull Vodka?" I yelled over all the excitement, to the bartender.

"Those are bad for your heart!" Bob said, while the old bartender stopped, and looked at me expectantly.

"And what would you know what's bad for my heart, Robert?" I repeated, hoping he would remember that night, all the way from the Naval Academy.

Bob smiles, "I dunno," he starts, "I think I might be the one protecting your heart from now one." I laughed at how cringey it sounded, and Bob joined in. "That was bad, wasn't it?"

I stopped my giggling, and brought my pointer finger and thumb together, "Just a little bit." I turned to the bartender, "Can we have two beers?" I ordered.

He nodded wordlessly, and grabbed us two beers from under the counter. I fumbled for my purse, trying to grab a bill to pay. Bob beats me, and he puts a twenty on the bar top, and pushes it towards the bartender.

I start, "Bob, you didn't have to—"

"Yes I did." Bob starts out strong, but then his second statement drops and octave, "When was the last time you let someone take care of you?"

I shrug. It didn't matter. I was always the person taking care of other people. "Bob it's fine. It's who I am—"

"Scarlett, it's okay to let someone help you."

"I know." I smile, "That's why I like you Bob. You always make sure that everybody else is okay before you even think about yourself."

He blushes, and I take this as the perfect opportunity to grab our beers, pushing one in his hands, and drag him to the opposite side of the bar. Our detachment had claimed the pool table, and they're all laughing at Coyote missing a pocket. Natasha celebrates by taking a long swig from her drink, and lining up her pool stick to the closest pool ball.

"Is Coyote losing again?" I ask, my hand still holding Bob's.

"Probably, he always loses to Phoenix." Bob jokes, and I giggle.