Caitlyn shouted at the big screen TV in chorus with twenty other people, followed by a loud cheer as they watched the Patriots halfback rush for thirty yards. Michael smiled at her as she sat back down in her bar stool. “You really get into this, don’t you?” “It’s hard not to,” she shrugged. “Remember the Wildcats games?” “You weren’t this excited.” “Inside I was, but it really comes out for the Pats. And it didn’t help that the Wildcats kinda sucked.” She smiled and took a sip of her beer, putting her attention back on the screen. “Where’s Alexis?” Michael liked Alexis. She was humorously honest, and in some ways reminded him of Caitlyn’s mother. Only she was less bitter about everything. Caitlyn scanned the bar and then pointed to a dark corner where Alexis was running a finger down the chest of a man who was probably fifteen years older than her. “Is she going to be alright?” “It’s kind of what she does. I wouldn’t worry too much about it.
