Page 28 of Drop Three

Navy:Trust me, I couldn’t forget if I tried.

Kodi:Y’all have fun tonight! Text me when you get home. Oh! Try their signature drink...I’ve heard it’s fantastic!

Navy:Will do :)

Good grief,it’s freezing out.

My teeth chatter uncontrollably, and my lips feel ten seconds away from frostbite. It should not be this cold in Atlanta. In Georgia, we get random cold days here and there during the holidays, but the thick winter chill comes in the beginning months of the new year.

Despite my efforts, I’m feeling slightly underdressed.

I thank my lucky stars the second I spot a copious number of outdoor solar heaters carefully placed on the patio as I tread my way through the packed parking lot to get to the front entrance of Boone.

Downtown Atlanta is continuously growing, including businesses, schools, and shopping. I’ve grown to appreciate the chaos in the hustle rather than being annoyed by the negatives of living in a lively city.

One thing that makes up for the busyness, however, is the Grand Opening of Boone.

Boone is owned and operated by my good friend, Briggs.

Legally, his name is Crew Briggs, but the guys and I have always called him by his last name.

Briggs played for the Strikers when I came on as an intern two years ago and retired a year later after his daughter was born. He’s the epitome of an ex-military, hard-working outdoorsman.

With the body and abs to show for it, let me tell you.

I have always found it commendable of him to prioritize his daughter’s life and the value of being present for her. It sucked to see him go because he was such an incredible asset to the team and an entertaining player to interview on the field.

When word got out that he was opening his restaurant, everyone and their brother began RSVPing for tonight’s Grand Opening.

The closer I get to the front entrance, the more swept away I am by the rugged beauty that Boone embodies. There are pillars of cedar lining the outer perimeter, resembling rustic columns. Cedar slats connect in an awning-like structure that attaches to the black metal roof, providing cover for outdoor seating. The masculine tones of the wood are the perfect complement to the rich brown leather chairs and modern black square tables that are equally spread out on the patio.

As I pass through the double bifold doors, I see a design similar to that of the patio area. The only difference is the massive bar in the center of the dining room, playing music like an old jukebox.

It feels cozy and inviting.

Very few places in Atlanta will make you feel warm and at home. Boone is now at the top of that list.

I smile, noticing the lack of televisions in this space. It’s invigorating to see people conversing with each other, sharing drinks, eating good food, and spending quality time without television interference. The entire vibe of Boone is classy and brawny, a place I can see myself frequenting and staying for hours.

As the wind’s chill takes flight in my curls, I hustle inside as quickly as possible and search for my friend.

I instantly spot Tenley’s bright blonde hair and tattoos and pivot to find my spot in the booth across from her.

I’ve barely made it an inch in her direction before a deep voice I haven’t heard in ages calls out to me, “Well, well, well, if it isn’t Miss Sailor.”

Briggs.

God, I haven’t been called that since the last time I saw him. It’s been over a year since his farewell dinner with the team.

How have we managed to let that much time pass?

I wouldn’t have called Briggs and me best friends, but he was someone I grew to trust and enjoy his company. He never shied away from what he thought of me, though, always asking me out on dates, and I always turned him down.

I was mindlessly under Luke’s spell at the time, so, truthfully, he never stood a chance. Now that I think about it, I wonder if he saw what I couldn’t with Luke, and that’s why he pursued me so consistently even though I was in a relationship.

I may be naive when it comes to love, but I’m loyal to a fault. That loyalty often seems to be the most significant factor in my downfall.

Don’t get me wrong, Briggs is smoking hot.

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