golden wave all the way.

「 mr. tate medina 」

Full Name: Tate Antonio Medina

Nickname/s: Tater Tot, TaeTae, Medina, QB, Coach

Gender: cis male

Date of Birth: August 27, 1989

Age: Thirty Two

Ethnicity: Mexican-American

Place of Birth: Tupelo, Mississippi

Sexual Orientation: Heterosexual

@tupeloextras || [tw: injury, drugs, addiction]

His offer immediately brought her back to when they were in high school. Odd to think that was fifteen plus years ago. They had been together on and off so frequently that no one ever knew if they were dating. Hell, not even Brooke knew when they were dating at times. The pressure of being this high school power couple had got the better of them. “Alright, yeah,” what else did she have to lose? It was something to do. And it wasn’t going to end with her sleeping with her boss. Which was typically a terrible idea - no matter how damn good it was. “Let’s go, I’m not tryin’ to get stuck bartending any longer.” Brooke tossed the towel she was using to wipe down the counters into the pile of other towels off to the side before she bent down to grab her bag and to stash a bottle of vodka in her bag. “Got the good stuff to go along with it.” Just in case they needed an ice breaker. Brooke rounded around the bar, slinging her vodka filled bag over her shoulder before heading toward the door. 

Tate honestly expected Brooklyn to say no. He wasn’t sure what it was about their history that gave him any glimmer of hope, but that tiny part of him won out. A broad smile spread across the man’s face as she agreed to join him for the night, and he was grateful as hell for it. “Alright,” he said, shrugging? C’mon, B, you know you’re the good stuff.” It slipped out before he could stop himself, and Tate glanced at the floor as he laughed at himself softly. He held the door open for her before following her out to the parking lot, nodding toward his truck in case she wasn’t sure which one it was. He’d gotten a new one in the past couple years and while everyone in town knew everything about Tate Medina, he figured that Brooklyn Carver would be the one person who managed to ignore him better than anyone. Opening the passenger door for her, Tate leaned against it and offered his hand to help her up. 

The last person she ever expected to see at The Swinging Door was Tate Medina. In fact, she was certain he hadn’t even stepped foot inside the bar since last year’s Monster Mash and the one that happened this year. Truly, Brooklyn had been too busy bartending to really entertain the idea of talking with too many people, but she at least always had a hell of a time with her co-workers. Brooke was just finishing up her own shift, ready for a Friday night where she didn’t have to work until early dawn. They were few and far between but as she swung the white towel over her shoulder, she was approached by Tate. When she saw him walk into the bar, she truly hadn’t thought he would come over to greet her of all people. There was at least a handful of others that she could have thought would come first. 

“Hey,” her tongue slipped across her bottom lip, suddenly feeling a little less confident than the blonde normally did. Though Brooklyn knew she was getting off at that moment, her eyes couldn’t help but dart to the large clock behind her, her gaze lingering on it a moment before turning back to Tate. “Actually,” she hesitated a moment, “No,” Brooke shook her head, “I don’t have any plans. Typically don’t get to leave this early on a Friday.” But it was her turn in the rotation and she was ready to high tail it out of work. “Did you have somethin’ in mind?” A single brow rose with her question. 

Tate’s gaze fell to Brooklyn’s lips, following her tongue without a chance of stopping himself. “Well, it’s my lucky night, then.” Tate tapped his knuckles on the bar countertop, wondering if this was a sign. If Tate believed in signs, then he’d surely believe this was one. “I figured you and I could go drive around and find us a little moonlight on a dirt road like old times.” He wasn’t exactly nervous, because Tate Medina didn’t get nervous, but he was wondering just how likely it was that Brooke would say yes. “If you’re up for it, I mean.” 

In the cozy confines of their plush haven with Chaplin waddling around the narrow space and Tate shoulder to shoulder with her, Billie was most content. Her happy place. She only hoped traditions such as these would never fade into non existence. That even when their hair had grown gray and their bones too brittle to be crawling beneath towering comforters they’d still manage to find a bit of whimsy and excitement in such childish activities. If her future didn’t promise indulgences such as these with Tate at her side then she didn’t want to partake in. She’d much rather stay here in this slice of time they’d created, completely shield from outside interference. Just the two of them with a carton of half pineapple pizza between them – even though he hated pineapple – catching each other up on their as if sparing a single detail was unspokenly forbidden. “That’s exactly what I thought!” she huffed playfully, folding her current slice in half. “Its Halloween season after all, what a wasted opportunity”. Goodness knows if Nick had given in to her request she surely would have committed to donning the wrapped ensemble for the whole of October. 

“Well I’m glad you were sans catch of the night this evening” she teased, nudging him right back as she took a healthy bite of her slice. Billie’s lips turned down ever so slightly at his next comment. “Well I fault anyone for thinking of you in such a way. You’re a complex fellow TaeTae, you’ve got various gears and not all of them are set on ‘you know what’” her tone held a hint of fire power as she swallowing hard. “Just most of them” she added, grinning in jest only for her cheeks to flush involuntarily at the mention of Bennett. “Oh, he’s out with a friend and he promised to bring me carrot cake home” she didn’t bother obscuring the way her smile took on a dreamy contenance speaking of him. Tate knew all about her adoration for the male, when she’d come running back to Tupelo after getting her heart broken he was the first she revealed all the weary specifics. 

“Tell me your top threes of the day. MIne were; the ice cream shop brought the pumpkin flavors back so I got a triple scoop and it was glorious. I saw a Red-cockaded woodpecker in Ballard Park at lunch and Grams loved her birthday present. Now yours” 

Tate knew Billie well enough to know the way she smiled when she talked about Bennett wasn’t just any ol’ smile. She was clearly smitten with him, and Tate had been watching the two of them carefully, more carefully than he watched anyone. He wasn’t one to play matchmaker or really even try to read too much into a relationship, but Billie meant enough to him that he couldn’t help himself. Besides, he knew she was special, and he wanted to make sure Bennett didn’t hurt her by being a total idiot or anything. “Good,” he replied, “he better bring a big ol’ slice. Knowin’ you, you’ll inhale it right up.” 

" I wish I would've called it quits that night when we fought after the game. Yeah, I could've just walked away, but I held on 'til what we had together was more than a fling. Could've stopped myself from getting in too deep, but I didn't cause I loved you and your ways. The damage was done after that first taste. If I'd have been a little older, I could've handled you better. The spell you put on me never went away. You in my blue jean jacket all wrapped up in forever, still in my bones right now, just like a habit I can't put down. Sure is tough when you start young. "

Tate didn’t come to The Swinging Door often. In fact, he had gone 365 days between visits, coming for last year’s Monster Mash and not stepping foot inside the bar again until this year’s party. And yet, somehow he’d managed to not only attend this year’s Monster Mash but he found himself standing at the bar again only one week later. He didn’t know what it was about seeing Brooklyn at éternité that had made him get in his truck and drive across town tonight, but here he was, standing in front of the very bar she was working behind at ten thirty on a Friday night. Tate didn’t even want to think about what he’d have done if she wasn’t working.

“Hey, stranger,” he said softly when Brooke appeared before him, eyes softening at the sight of her. It’d been a weird couple of months for Tate, and while the team had done well and had a short run in the playoffs, they hadn’t won the championship he’d been hoping for. Something about the end of football season always got him feeling more nostalgic than he liked to admit, and he chalked this night up to that. “When do you get off?” Tate asked before blushing just slightly. “Sorry, I guess I shouldn’t just assume you are free. Let me try again. Do you have plans tonight when you get off?” 

☞ t u p e l o   t a s k   # 2 : p l a y l i s t

[ [ a e s t h e t i c s ] ]

the softest shirts you’ll ever feel, the sound of a palm slapping against a football, tanned skin in a summer sun, black ray bans, a whistle hanging from his lips, a worn in pair of Nike’s that cost more than most people can spare, three jerseys framed over his momma’s mantle, praying nobody asks if he’s ready for football season, the scar along his arm from the surgery that ended his career, a wardrobe built around red and white, “boy, when are you gonna settle down and get us a future football star?”

[ [ p l a y l i s t ] ]

[ "It’s A Guy Thing” - Dylan Schneider ] A minute left in the game, my team’s about to lose, I’mma say that they’re not even though I know it’s through. Ask me if I give a damn that all your friends are dudes, I’mma swear that I don’t even though I know I do. It’s a guy thing, it’s in my wiring, built to be brave, just how we’re made.

[ "Southern Boy” - Jordan Rager ft. Jason Aldean ] Southern sky, watching over you, looking down on your little town and the hearts that hold your roots. Southern boy, when the road starts getting rough, the wheels you’re on will get you home, no matter how deep the mud so keep singing them songs, keep carrying on.

[ "We Are Tonight” - Billy Currington ] The night’s still young, never gonna get old, livin’ for today like there’s no tomorrow. Follow the grooves, the tires in the grass, stayin’ on the gas like we’re never comin’ back. It’s a Friday night, it’s a small town girl. Everything is right and we rule the world.

[ “Leave the Night On” - Sam Hunt ] The sun’ll steal the magic from us soon, so let’s take one more trip around the moon.

[ "17” - Cross Canadian Ragweed ] Once upon a time, you had it all. You let everybody down. You’re always seventeen in your hometown. Runnin’ from your folks, runnin’ from the law, runnin’ from love, runnin’ from your fears, runnin’ from it all: you keep on runnin’ boy, you’ll run yourself in the ground.

Brooklyn nodded her head at his comment, “No, no you never did.” Losing and Tate? Two things that simply would never get along in this life of his. Looking at Tate was only a realization how far life had come since high school. How minuscule their problems had been at the time. Brooklyn headed toward the bar with his gesture, keeping a pace just merely a step ahead of his. The blonde couldn’t really recall the last two of them had a conversation, let alone were going to get a drink together. “Somehow it is possible to not run into one of your exes on a daily basis.” At least when she was holed up at the Swinging Door most nights, gaining tips by batting her lashes and flirting with the patrons. Whenever Tate was there, it’s not like they were sitting down and having a conversation. She was far more focused on letting someone else deal with him at that point. It was just easier for the blonde to avoid most of her issues. “I’ve been good, though,” her shoulders lifted in a shrug, “It’s not the most glamorous job, but Hunter treats us good down at the bar and I really have enjoyed working there.” And he definitely treated her well in more way than one. 

“I knew you wouldn’t forget me that easy,” he said with a quick smirk in her direction. There’d been plenty of times where Tate had wondered how much of their relationship Brooklyn still thought about. For him, it lingered in a variety of ways, but one of them haunted him far more than others. Tate followed her toward the bar, taking the opportunity to really get a good look at as much of her as he could see from behind. It wasn’t exactly sexual - although he did appreciate the view - but more just an old friend wondering how she was doing. “Turns out it’s not as small as it felt growin’ up, I guess.” He flagged down the bartender, resting his elbow on the counter as he ordered his drink. Turning to Brooklyn, he wondered suddenly what she would choose. After all, their drink of choice as teenagers at a bonfire was far more limited than it would be now. Once the bartender headed off to get their drinks, Tate nodded slowly. “That’s right, you’re over at The Swinging Door. I don’t go there a whole lot, but I’ve seen you there a few times. I’m more a Bob and Ringo’s kind of guy myself.” 

The stability of the duvet haven was surprisingly quite solid despite the haphazard method in which it was constructed. The structure had caved in once or twice during the process, much to Chaplin’s chargin who was buried beneath, but Billie was confident the third (or fifth) time was the charm. While waiting for Tate to arrive she’d been ludicrously considering building an extension. The layout wasn’t nearly as ambitious as the ones the two of them created in their youth but it would do. What Billie could provide – endeavor to ensure – was that it held the same air of childlike whimsy. Fully grown adults they might be but that didn’t mean she couldn’t persuade her oldest and truest companion to indulge in the fantasy. Billie lived in a world made of everlasting daydreams and there was very little powerful enough to sully the illusion. But Tate was of the few who knew of the fissures in her reverie, as minute as they were. Just as she knew of the vulnerability beneath his charm. 

They’d seen every facade of the others personalities, including the despondent and downtrodden. He’d sheltered her from whispered judgement aimed to shun her peculiarities and comforted her when they’d weighed heavy on her spirit. She helped him wade the turbulent ripples of compulsion when life seemed determined to change his course and shouldered his grievances to give him space to heal. This was friendship in its purest form, remaining true not just in moments of jubilation but also in need. Billie loved Tate, perhaps not in the way some might assume, but in full measure. 

As soon as Tate settled in she reached for her own slice, bacon and pineapple on her side as usual. They’d been ordering in this fashion for two decades now, long enough that the local pizza place knew the specifications by heart – ‘the Bill and Tate Special’ it was called. “Well I wouldn’t exactly call it an adventure but I managed to bruise my knee on the way to see Doctor Morris this morning” she lifted the pant leg of her pj’s to reveal her wrapped appendage. “He didn’t agree to wrap the rest of my body which is truly a shame, I was hoping to spook the old ladies at the hairdresser”. A fallen bacon bit was quickly retrieved by the spoiled canine as she settled between the two of them. “What about you? No girls to bring home today?” her brow quirked teasingly. 

Honestly, if anyone were to walk in right now that knew Tate and Billie very well at all, this would be an entirely logical way to find them. They’d outgrown their backyard playplace fort early on and transitioned to using boxes in a garage or building it out of blankets and chairs and pillows. Billie was usually the mastermind behind it, directing Tate where to put his muscles to good use. Today, he’d gotten out of having to do the work but was still able to reap the benefits quite nicely. Chewing on his slice of pizza, Tate turned his gaze to Billie and looked at her leg.

“At least you were on your way to see the doctor when it happened, right?” Tate had to admit, he was constantly worrying about Billie ending up in a body cast, but he knew she was a tough cookie. “Oh, what a bummer, that Doc Morris.” Tate gave her a teasing nudge, smiling down at the dog as he reached out to rub his ears. “No, no girls today. It felt like the kind of night I wanted to spend with my friend, not the kind of night I wanted to get laid on. I know, I know, everyone thinks I’ve only got one mode, but really, I’m a man of simple pleasures.” He rolled his eyes. “Where’s Benny?” 

Brooklyn knew her relationship with Tate was entirely based on the fact that quarterbacks were supposed to date head cheerleaders. It was about the image and it was an image the two of them kept shattering for themselves and everyone around them. The breaking up and the getting back together exhausted anything good that could have come out of them. Brooklyn knew his parents adored him, not passing up the chance to sing praises about him being the football coach. It’s not like Brooke was ever surprised that he ended up coaching the same sport he achieved many victories in during high school. As for her? A lowly bartender. Serving those who enjoyed getting drunk on a Tuesday afternoon. “Well of course,” she pushed a laugh of her lips, as if she caught up with Mr. and Mrs. Medina on a weekly basis. “Those football stars,” she teased, catching Tate’s eye with a shy smile. Their paths didn’t cross all that often but that didn’t mean she harbored resentment for him. There was a time when she did, but she was thirty-two years ago. High school was so far in the past and the two of them had grown as people.

“It was great to see you guys, too.” Brooklyn chimed back with a growing smile. It was mostly sincere. Even if high school was ages and ages ago, it was still weird to see her high school ex-boyfriends parents. Parents with expectations that they would be together forever. When Tate told his parents that he was going to stay behind and catch up with her, she nearly dropped her jaw at his words. That was the last thing that she expected to come from his lips. Especially with the all too familiar way he shortened her name to a single letter. As Tate turned back to her, she knew her lips had managed a small part in shock. “I wouldn’t say the last person,” Brooklyn would always have a soft spot for him at the end of the day, “but a drink sounds good.” Even if her date did show up, it would be far too late for redemption. 

Tate was a little surprised, he’d actually expected more of a fight from Brooklyn. It wasn’t like he’d been the best boyfriend ever back in the day, after all. “Good, that’s always nice to hear. You know me, I don’t take to losin’ well.” Tate gave the blonde a genuine smile, his voice soft. The thing about Brooklyn was that he didn’t have a lot to lose. She’d seen him at his best and his worst, at least what the 18 year old version of him considered it to be. Tate had found new highs and lows since then, but Brooklyn hadn’t been privy to any of that. Tate gestured for the woman to lead the way to the bar, slipping his hands into the front pockets of his jeans as he followed her. “How have you been, anyway? I don’t know how we’ve managed not to see each other for a while in a place like this.” 

Being stood up was down right embarrassing. What was even worse? Running and his parents while standing outside the restaurant. It had been at least thirty minutes that Brooklyn was waiting, trying not to jump to conclusions like she so easily had been told she did. She stood with her arms crossed, scrolling through her phone like she was trying to keep busy while waiting. The last thing she wanted was for anyone to think she had been stood up, however, there was no escaping conversation when she heard her name. She looked up, dread filling her eyes as they landed on Mr. and Mrs. Medina. Brooklyn did her very best to avoid the Medina family around town when she could. How she was in high school was a terrible reflection of the woman she had grown into. Well, mostly. “Mr. and Mrs. Medina, uh, hi.” She gave him and his parents half a wave, forcing a small smile on her lips. This was actually worse than being stood up by someone on Tinder. “Thank you,” her smile grew more genuine at his father’s compliment as she tucked a piece of blonde locks behind her ears, “You guys all look very nice. Celebrating anything?” She asked, trying her best at making small talk.

Tate’s parents had adored Brooklyn. In fact, they still harbored a little bit of hope that Tate might end up with her. It didn’t help that his mom had been head cheerleader when his dad was quarterback. It set a pretty big expectation for Tate and Brooklyn, on top of everyone in town wanting them to work things out, which didn’t help their relationship. They’d both made mistakes, but that was in the past. Now, his parents still spoke very highly of the blonde and made sure Tate did the same in their presence. He didn’t often speak poorly of her, exactly, but he wasn’t going around town singing her praises left and right. He didn’t think she would sing his either. “Just out for dinner with our son, a big football coach who barely has any time for us,” Tate’s mom said as she patted Tate’s shoulder, causing him to look down at the floor between his ex and himself. “I thought we were letting that go, Mom,” Tate teased back. The small talk continued for a few moments, Tate mostly avoiding participating until his mom finally seemed interested in leaving.

 “It was so good to see you, Brooklyn, but we’d better get Mr. Medina home before he falls asleep after that meal,” she said. Tate took this opportunity to look over Brooklyn’s face carefully. “Hey, mom, dad, I think I’m goin’ to stick around and catch up with B. I’ll call you tomorrow.” He hugged his parents and made quick with goodbyes before looking back to the woman. “I know I’m probably the last person you want to spend time with, but do you want to get a drink? I feel like we could both use one.”