inserts himself? inserts himself where?

➜ location: the barn at the ranch kit works ➜ @ashtynsmusings

"So then the guy asks me where I'm from, right? Normal conversation stuff. I said I was from Weatherford, Texas, and his eyes go all big." Kit put the saddle he was holding onto it's rack before he mimicked the man, widening his eyes as though he'd just seen a ghost. "I sorta just waited and he goes, 'Isn't that where that Tate Medina kid is from?" Kit's face turned from his normal friendly grin to something more like pure annoyance, rolling his eyes.

"I'm in the middle of Nebraska, hopin' I can get someone to help me patch a tire on my truck quick enough to get me where I gotta go by the time I gotta check in, and this guy's bringin' up Tate fuckin' Medina to me. I swear, Stella, it's like I can't escape that guy. I told him I'd never heard of him and he goes on rattling about how he played at Alabama and then got drafted and all that, as if I don't have to know. You don't just grow up in a town this obsessed with football in Texas and not know about the one guy who made it big out in the real world?" He shook his head, groaning at the mere thought of the conversation, and the half a dozen others he'd had just like it over the years. "I'm not sure how you even survived football season sharin' the same space as that guy, his head could've taken up the whole damn stadium."

Stella practically choked on the air, beginning to cough uncontrollably for a minute. "What?" she managed to choke out once her coughing had managed to subside. "Tate Medina? Really? Of all the places to hear that name," she muttered with a shake of her head. "C'mon though. You know he ain't that bad," she argued with him. "He's... Matured, I think, since we were in school. We all have, actually," she corrected herself. In the middle of her talking, she almost didn't notice the fact that she had stopped stroking the horse and began picking at her finger nails. The habit had become one of her trademark nervous ticks. "I uh.... I actually saw him the other day," she tried slipping in casually, "We even talked too."

➜ location: stella's kindergarten classroom ➜ @ashtynsmusings

Mickey was used to all the ins-and-outs of her job, all the public-facing things that came with her rank and career path. It wasn't that she felt obligated, she actually enjoyed all of this. She had grown up surrounded by aviators, but not every kid could say that. Just like the Top Gun movies, things like Career Days and local events were opportunities for the U.S. Navy to really sell itself as a future for younger children. Mickey was especially fond of the chance to put a female aviator in front of kids, knowing that representation mattered far more than just what was shown in the movies. She had sent her info to the local schools at the start of the year offering to attend any sort of events they might have a use for her at, and when the kindergarten teacher had asked her to attend her Career Day, Mickey was over the moon.

After explaining her job as a naval aviator to the kids and answering questions, including the ever-popular "Is your job just like the Top Gun movie?" that she'd come to expect, Mickey found herself chatting with some of the other guests. By the time she was ready to leave, it was nearly time for the afternoon pick up, and she wasn't about to try and fight the mini van mafia to get out of the parking lot in a timely fashion. Instead, Mickey made her way over toward Stella, whom she'd introduced herself to earlier. The girl was around her age, Mickey figured, and she was a knockout. Aslan could tease her about her recent foray into matchmaking, but she couldn't help herself. "I know we just met, and this is completely off topic as far as careers go, and you probably get this all the time around here," Mickey said after pausing to let the bell ring loudly in her ear, the students rushing out the door excitedly. She truly should get an award for how well she managed to check her language around kids, considering she cursed like a sailor just about all the time. "But are you single? My brother just moved to town a few months ago and he's not a total jerk. He's a fighter pilot, too, if that sways you at all."

When the day finally came, Stella was both amused and impressed by some of the questions the kids in her class were coming up with. Most of them were the usual silly questions like asking if the presenter's job was anything like such-and-such television show or movie or what their favorite color is, but there were a couple that surprised her by asking what their favorite part of their job is and asking how they too could get into the job when they grow up. By the end of the day there were a lot of guests still remaining in addition to all of the parents arriving to come pick their students up. As the bell rang to dismiss the students for the day, Stella made her way to her desk to pack her things up for the day and head over to the high school for cheer practice. Her ears perked up when she heard a voice behind her. She turned to be met with Naval aviator Mickey, one of today's presenters. Her question certainly caught Stella off guard slightly. Sure, she had heard the question numerous times before, but having it come from a career day presenter was definitely a first for her. She let out a sigh, her mind racing trying to figure out how to answer. Yeah, she technically is single, but now with her latest interaction with her ex, she wasn't sure what to call it. They were friends, but at the same time she wasn't sure how the man would react to her possibly going on a date with someone else. "I... Yeah, I am single," she finally decided on. "Lucky for him, I dated a bit of a jerk back in high school, so that doesn't really sway me and I'm open to whatever, honestly," she laughed off lightly. "I do have to ask though," she began, leaning against her desk, "Why me? I mean, we barely know each other. We just met officially today."

I never hated you, Tate.

He knew he didn't deserve those words, didn't deserve to know whether Stella Garrett hated him or not. He'd given up any right to that information going into the summer after graduation, and probably long before then when he'd started treating her like a burden and not a girlfriend. He was prepared for her to say she was actually offended by something, so the playful smack of his arm was nothing short of a shock. Reaching up to massage the spot as if it'd hurt, Tate grimaced. "Ouch, Garrett, you been working out or something?" He had to make light of the moment, otherwise it'd feel all kinds of wrong. Even at their most vulnerable, Tate and Stella had been able to make each other laugh. "It says less about who you are and more about what a dick I was to you," he offered up, voice soft. "Friends, huh? I can take friends. That's more than I deserve, and a hell of a lot more than I expected." Tate lifted his gaze to meet Stella's, his voice turning slightly more serious as he spoke again. "I'm going to do whatever it takes to earn that trust back, Stel. Don't think I'm taking this opportunity for granted. I'm not dumb enough to make that mistake twice."

While she knew that they still had a long way to go towards rebuilding what was broken, she was more than willing to put in that work if he was also willing. After all, he may have been the one to inflict the damage that had been done, but it still took two to put in the effort and make it work again. "Yeah, I have been, actually," she full-heartedly laughed, "It's called cheerleading. You should try it sometime. We're not just pretty girls on the sidelines yelling cheers, y'know," she pointed out with a tilt of her head. Letting out a sigh, she let her arms fall to her sides. "Yeah, you kinda were, and for no reason when all I did was loved you, Tate." She stayed quiet for a moment, silently biting at her lower lip as she pondered what to say next. "You really hurt me," she finally admitted quietly. "I may be willing to give you that opportunity to earn my trust again, but I need you to know that it's your one and only chance," she looked into his eyes. "Any mess ups and that's it. You don't get another chance."

Tate couldn’t help but return a genuine smile at Stella’s laugh. Her laugh was infectious, it always had felt like his kryptonite. Even on his worst days, after a horrible game when nothing could make him feel better, Stella’s laugh had slipped through his walls. It still had the same effect on him. Her words, on the other hand, felt like a dagger. Her elbowing him softened the blow a little, thankfully, and he was glad they were physically close enough. Thank god the sidewalks weren’t weirdly too wide. “I can’t say I blame him,” Tate said as he felt a slight blush creep up his neck, slipping across his cheeks. “But I’ll reach out, maybe take him to dinner and pick his brain a little.” Calling up Stella’s dad would be rough, that was for sure, but he trusted her words. If she thought her dad still respected him, Tate would have to believe that was the case.

He knew what was coming the second she paused. It was bound to happen, Tate wasn’t that stupid. If anything, he was fooling himself by believing she wouldn’t have brought it up yet. Tate nodded, though he didn’t think Stella would’ve needed any kind of response before continuing. She had every right to ask him why, and Tate had mentally gone over how he’d answer that question a million times… But he still felt like he was fumbling through formulating an answer. After taking a deep breath, he came to a stop on the sidewalk and turned to face her. “Stel,” he said with a soft voice, “I told myself you hated me for so long that I couldn’t bring myself to face you. It felt like I was invading your space or something. I wanted to stay out of your way and let you do your thing without having to deal with me showing up and hanging over you like some kind of dark cloud.” Tate lowered his gaze to the ground between them, adjusting his grip on her bags. “I kind of figured if you had to be around me, I could make it suck less if I just pretended not to know you. At least then you wouldn’t have to play nice.”

"That sounds great, Tate," she approved with a smile. "I'll give him a heads up that you'll be reaching out." She knew her question probably seemed sudden and forward, but she deserved an answer from him. Some kind of closure. She was still startled though when he came to a sudden stop in the middle of the sidewalk. She stayed quiet as he spoke, his words processing through her mind. "I… I never hated you, Tate," she admitted quietly. "Sure, I was angry at you for a long time because of how things ended between us, but I could never hate you. Honestly, I'm kinda offended that you think I'm capable of hating you," she smacked lightly at his arm. "Look," she sighed, forcing his chin up so he would be looking at her again, "I'm not sure what could happen between us again, but we can at least be friends, right?" she asked quietly. "And maybe, just maybe, I can slowly rebuild my trust in you after everything."

“She’s doin’ just fine,” Tate said with a gentle chuckle, shaking his head. “Probably going to give me an earful for running into you today, but hopefully I survive.” As much as this town had shaped him with their treatment of Jameson’s Golden Boy, Tate’s mom had strived to make sure her son was still a gentleman. It hadn’t always stuck the way she’d hoped, but it wasn’t an entirely lost cause. “Really? Your dad doesn’t totally hate me?” Tate couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow at the question, because he’d convinced himself all of Stella’s family had his picture saved for target practice. “No, not at all. I mean, I’m still getting steps in, and I was just about done with my run anyway. This is a way better cool down than walking around the block a few times. Besides, I’d much rather get a chance to talk to you.”

She couldn't help but laugh at Tate's words about his mom. She could definitely picture her giving Tate an earful later. "Well, that's what you get, Tate, for ditchin' me the way ya did," she gently elbowed him as they continued walking. "Well, yeah, maybe a little bit, but I know he still respects you football coach to football coach and all," she rambled. She stayed quiet for a few moments while he spoke. "Can I ask you something?" she asked, pausing for a moment before continuing, not really giving him a chance to answer. "Why? I mean, why now?" she asked. "You've been back in Jameson for…. How long now? And all I got was you avoiding me like the plague. So… Why now?" she asked again. She probably just ruined the moment between them, but she was past caring. She deserved answers.

Before he had a chance to choose which path he was going down, she answered his question and Tate’s lips slowly turned upward on either side of his mouth. “Let me walk you home,” he said, not so much asking for permission so much as making it clear he wanted to do it. The same man who had actively been avoiding her out of concern for making her life messier was suddenly throwing caution to the wind. “Here, I can take your bags.” He reached up to where the handles rested on her shoulder, sliding them off so he could take them from her. “Lesson plans, huh? You teach elementary school kids, right? My mom mentioned it a while back, said she always knew you’d make a great teacher. I’m lucky, head football coaches in Jameson don’t have to teach classes. I can’t imagine doing lesson plans, coming up with football practice plans and new plays and drills is hard enough as it is.”

“Just out for a run,” he said, trying to slow his breathing as he reached down to tug the bottom of his shirt upward so he could wipe his face with it. When he dropped the hem of his shirt again, Tate rested his hands on his hips, his only logical way to fight the urge to reach out to her. “I’d hug you, but I’m covered in sweat,” he said. Logically, Tate knew the reason he didn’t try to hug her had a lot more to do with the idea that she’d slap him for even trying, and a whole lot less to do with whether he was covered in sweat or not. “What–are you, uh, headed home?” He didn’t know why he asked, but it was too late to take it back.

"Oh. Right. Of course," she nodded, her eyes finally moving to take in his sweaty appearance. Her eyes paused for a moment as the fabric of his shirt rose up, revealing his abs underneath. Easy, Stella, she had to tell herself. He's not yours anymore, she reminded. "Oh, it's fine," she rushed, biting gently at her lips as her eyes fell to the ground to avoid looking at his again, a small nervous habit of hers. "I'm uh… I'm probably gonna go home and shower anyways, so," she shrugged, hoping her words came off the way she had hoped they would. Even though this man was no longer really hers, she still found herself longing to be in his arms again for a moment, to take in his scent again the way she used to back in high school. "I… Yeah, I was actually," she nodded. "I just finished workin' on lesson plans for the week, grabbed a drink, and yeah. Just headin' home for the night. You?"

➜ location: downtown weatherford ➜ @ashtynsmusings

To say Tate Medina was avoiding Stella Garrett was an understatement. He’d been doing his best to be as invisible to her as possible, which was obviously a horrible idea seeing as they both had to be at plenty of events: football games, pep rallies, parades, fundraisers, and just about any public event that brought cheerleaders and football players together. In a small town like Jameson, that happened too damn often. Tate didn’t have any hard feelings against Stella, but he assumed there were plenty on her end. He knew better than to think he’d handled their high school relationship well at all. Tate Medina was an asshole, plain and simple, and while he’d embraced that role as an adult, he couldn’t quite get past the pain he’d caused the one person in his life who gave him a chance when he hadn’t earned it. Stella had been great — a great person and an even more great girlfriend — but Tate hadn’t been old enough to appreciate it… At least not until it was gone.

As much as he had tried to avoid her, making sure they never had a spare moment alone together, Tate knew it was only a matter of time. His return to Jameson had worn off in time, but coming on as head football coach last spring meant the entire town was watching him like a hawk. There were certain pressures and nuances to being head coach, and Tate was handling it as best he could. After all, he’d grown up as the star quarterback in this town, so he’d been taking this all in stride since he was a freshman in high school. These days, there were less filters and more opinions, but that didn’t change any of it as far as Tate Medina was concerned. It was up to him to bring home a state championship again.

The added stress and pressure meant Tate felt that familiar urge to reach for alcohol and pills. He’d gotten clean once he returned home, but that didn’t mean the itch was gone. Instead of trying to get his hands on some painkillers, Tate practiced his self-control as best he could: limiting himself on how many drinks he was allowed per night and going for more and more runs. He’d always had a handle on things like that, which only made his addiction problem feel more like failure than anything, and it was one way he exercised control in his life. While he could absolutely run on a treadmill, or even run laps at the high school track or in the gymnasium, Tate preferred outdoor runs. Something about his feet hitting the pavement and his brain focusing on his breathing and steps and the passing view, it all melted his worries and stress away. Which was how he found himself rounding a corner in downtown Jameson, the familiar courthouse coming into view, as he collided with someone.

Stopping immediately, Tate reached out to make sure the other person wasn’t falling down. He knew he was a big guy, and this was definitely not the first time he’d nearly taken someone out when running. “Shit,” he said as he jerked his Beats headphones off his ears, “I’m sorry about that.” The words were out of his mouth before his gaze, which had been moving upward from the ground toward their face, took in who it was that he’d collided with. “Stel, hey,” he said softly, realizing he hadn’t said her name out loud in a long time. It didn’t matter, though, it was still as familiar as ever on his lips. Tate immediately jerked his hands off her shoulders, taking a step back once he knew she was remaining upright.

The times the pair have briefly interacted since his return have been awkward to say the least, filled with awkward silences, professional nods and simple short answers towards each other. Stella was determined to not let the awkwardness get to her though. Yes, she still found herself with lingering feelings and emotions towards the man, but she was determined to keep things professional.

Leaving the coffee shop with her work bags in hand, she began walking back home to finalize details on her lesson plans for the week. As she rounded the corner with her frozen mixed coffee drink in hand, she reached to adjust her bags back onto her shoulder, she felt herself collide with someone. She felt herself stumble slightly as she was knocked off balance. Just as she tried to regain her balance, she felt a set of once very familiar hands on her shoulders. Then, she heard his voice say her nickname. Instinctively, she felt her mouth turn into a slight frown as she felt him quickly pull away from her. "Tate," she breathed out, "I…. Hey," she stumbled out. "What are you doing here?" she asked, quickly brushing the imaginary dirt off of her clothes.