Blind Ambition | ✓

01 | Dallas, Connecticut

I hated Corona. Even when the bartenders would squeeze two limes into the tiny glass neck of the bottle, it still tasted like warm piss and maybe a hint of citrus. Then again, after chugging 12 of them, my tastebuds started to numb and they became a little more tolerable.

"Sir, your card," the petite blonde girl behind the bar chirped.

I looked down at my hands, straddling three beers each precariously between my fingers. I leaned over the bar and grabbed the card out of her hands with my teeth. She giggled, like most girls do. I took one last look at the bartender's red cheeks and low cut tank top that glistened with beer and sweat and who knows what else before muttering a muffled thank you, feeling the sticky plastic of the card against my tongue.

I wove in and out of sweaty people back to the table, dropping the full bottles next to 20 other empty ones on the wrought iron high top.

"I think someone needs to come clear our table," Chris said as he raked a chunk of red hair away from his forehead. He shoved a sliver of lime into his bottle, sending squirts of lime juice in every direction.

"Where's that smokin' brunette that was walking around earlier?" Anthony stood up and leaned on the table, his tall frame able to scan over the heads in the crowd.

"Dude, she was like 35." Cal scrunched his face up as he polished off his beer.

"So?" Anthony shrugged. "Hot moms are in."

They both started laughing and shoving each other in the arm, and I groaned. I wasn't sure if it was the alcohol, or the thought that practice started tomorrow that made my head spin. Our schedule, the playbook, scout day, it all hit me like a train and knocked the air from my chest. I took a long swig of beer, desperate to finish it off before it succumbed to the heat. I needed something stronger than lukewarm beer to drown my thoughts in.

I hit Chris on the chest, nearly knocking the beer from his hands.

"Come with me back to the bar, I want tequila," I said.

We got up from the table and trudged back over to the bar, the afternoon sun beating down on my head and sending beads of sweat down my back. A bass-thumping remix of shitty boy band music pounded through the speakers at the corner of the bar.

I glanced over the top of my sunglasses at a blonde across the bar. She sucked on the straw of her vodka club, wrapping her glossy lips delicately around the plastic. I winked at her over the top of my sunglasses to get a read on her. She smirked at me before sauntering away, swinging her round hips in the tiniest black mini dress.

I pushed myself away from the bar and went to follow her when I felt a hand come down on my shoulder.

"Dude!"

Before I could blink, Chris shoved a heavy bottle of Patron into my hands, still dripping with perspiration in the summer heat.

"Where did you get this?" I asked.

"Don't worry about it. You wanted tequila, I got you tequila." Chris pushed me away from the bar. I clutched the bottle to my chest like we had just discovered sunken treasure. We cackled like hyenas as we wobbled back to our table. I knocked over a tiny blonde girl as my balance continued to deteriorate. I felt bad leaving her on the ground without saying sorry, but all I could think about was flooding my veins with more liquor.

"Anyone down for a fiesta?" I dropped the bottle down on the table, getting cheers from my teammates.

I hated beer, but I loved tequila. Tequila was like a lover you have loud, hot sex with on the beach, and even though you should probably stay away, you keep coming back. It pumped through me hard and fast and muddled the whole world around me. It made me forget, and it made me numb, and that's how I wanted it. We passed around the bottle, taking turns between laughing and chugging.