Vol State Line - Morgan Wallen

One

Morgan Wallen as himself

"C'mon, man. It wasn't like some playoff game. The Vols lose all time." Blake says, clapping his buddy, Morgan, on the back as they head to a bar in heart of Tuscaloosa. The streets are flooded with white, crimson and some splashed of that awful houndstooth pattern leaving the two Tennessee boys sticking out like sore thumbs in their Volunteer Orange.

The Houndstooth is packed, wall-to-wall, shoulder-to-shoulder, packed with college kids celebrating their win while Morgan and Blake are mourning their loss.

"C'mon!"

Morgan weaves his way to an empty spot at the bar where he starts with two Coors Lights.

"Hey, you see that girl?" Blake uses his beer bottle to point at a brunette standing that the end of the bar with a few other girls.

Morgan grazes the crowd and stops on the blonde in the group.

He says nothing as he stands and heads to the group of girls, his hand respectfully on her back as he leans against the bar next to her. "Hey."

The other girls giggle as they step away but still close enough to where they can jump in if  needed.

The blonde gives him the prettiest smile he's ever seen, his heart skipping a beat in his Tennessee orange covered chest.

"Morgan." He says as he extends his hand.

"Hm, I don't know if I should be shakin' your hand there, honey." She teases in the sweetest southern accent, her red lips pressed against her glass.

"C'mon now, darlin'," He chuckles. "Nah, you're probably right."

She laughs, playfully nudging him. "You look out of place."

"Yeah, me and my boy drove down to watch the Vols lose." She laughs again. "Congrats on the win, I guess."

"Roll Tide."

He rolls his eyes as he orders another beer. "Whatcha drinkin'?"

"Whiskey sour." He orders one for her and himself another beer.

They talk for hours, easily.

"Hey, Uber's here." One of the girls says. "Dixie's got a final in the morning." She hitches her thumb to the brunette cozied up with Blake in a corner.

"Shoot." She sighs as she stands. "It was nice talking to you, Morgan."

He stands as well, offering a hug that she comfortably accepts, pressing a sweet red lipped kiss to his cheek. "Oh, can I get your number?" He asks, one arm still around her.

"Gimme your phone." She sends herself a text then hands it back, actually sliding his phone back into his back pocket with a little playful grin. "I'll see ya, Morgan."

+++

"You seriously never got her name?" Blake asks, popping the top off a bottle of coke as they cruise down the blacktop of the the Troubadour.

"I know but she never gave it to me." Morgan huffs back, parking the golf cart.

"Why don't you, uh, just ask her?" He shrugs, picking up a driver while taking a drink.

"It's a little late to ask her now, ain't it?"

"Ask her how she spells it or something."

Morgan stops. "That's a great idea." He pulls out his phone.

Morgan Wallen:

How do you spell your name?

Unknown Number:

Skyler Evans

Morgan Wallen:

Ok cool. That's what I thought. Thank you :)

"It's Skyler." He says with a smile. "Sky."

"You're already wrapped around her little finger, man." Blake teases, elbowing him a little harder than Morgan appreciates.

"You saw her, Blake, she was beautiful." Morgan practically swoons as he pops the tab on his Arizona Tea. "Damn."

Blake laughs while he squares up to swing. "You're crazy."

"What was that girl you were with's name?"

"Trixie."

Morgan snorts. "No it wasn't."

"Yeah huh!"

"No. It wasn't."

Blake stops, his brain trying to go back to that night. "Trixie...?"

Morgan laughs as he grabs a club from his bag. "You're stupid." Blake laughs and playfully shoves Morgan. "C'mon, lemme kick your ass in this match."