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Byron

One of the greatest joys of my class schedule this semester is that my first class on Mondays isn’t until two in the afternoon.

It gives me plenty of time to work out, go over some new offensive concepts with Coach Stevens that he wanted my opinion on, and bake some brownies from scratch before I have to go to my class with Lola.

After feeling highly judged by my dog for leaving my own pre-game early, I decided that I need to repair my relationship with Lola. I miss her. I already knew that I did but when Oliver spelled it out I just felt like an idiot.

I’m sampling the brownies when Aaron strolls into the kitchen and snatches one out of the pan.

“These aren’t for the house,” I tell him before I slap the baked good out of his hand. If you’ve ever lived with three Division l athletes, you know that they are a bunch of wild animals, and it’s impossible to keep food in the house.

With the bite he was able to take stuffed in his mouth, Aaron asks, “If they aren’t for the house, who are they for?”

“Umm–” I take off my baseball hat and shake my hair out before putting it on backward. “Lola,” I tell him a little sheepishly.

“Hmm, interesting.”

“What?”

“I wondered how long it would take you to come to your senses.”

I take a brownie off of the plate.

“Here, that earned you an extra brownie.”

I race to class before Lola. I’m panting as I set the plate of brownies in front of her seat.

You know how when you are waiting for someone time ticks by in slow motion?

I finish going through my emails and checking my Instagram notifications then survey the room.

It is nearly full, and the professor is sitting at the front of the room waiting for class to begin. But still, no Lola.

I double check my texts. No message from Lola saying she won’t be in class today.

Chef Stroll clears her throat, and we all stuff our phones into our bags and turn our attention to the front of the room.

“Today we are going to meet with our partners and—” She is cut off by the sound of a door slamming. All eyes gravitate towards it. A bashful Lola holts in her tracks.

Chef Stroll eyes pin Lola to the door. She distributes her weight rocking back and forth.

Chef starts running through what we can expect from class today, gaining the full attention of my classmates. Mine focus stays glued to Lola.

She navigates the classroom with her eyes glued to the floor. When she settles into the seat next to me she flashes me a meek smile.

Her khaki riding pants and a Blissful Stables t-shirt leave little doubt to where she was before class.

“Did I miss anything important?”

“You’re fine. You interrupted her first sentence.”

She looks distraught like she needs to hire a defense attorney for being three minutes late to class.

My hand has a mind of its own, moving to run over her thigh. I pull it away when she tenses. I give her a big smile that I know she loves.

“Oh, come on, I’ve had my hand in kinkier places.”

Her cheeks go from an embarrassed pink to a flustered red. She takes a deep breath before resting her forehead to the table. Lola interrupts the class for a second time when she lets out a high-pitched squeal after she goes face-first into the plate of brownies.

Chef Stroll doesn’t miss a beat this time and continues talking about how to decide on a menu.

“What are these?” She asks loud enough for only me to hear.

“I had a lot of free time this morning and felt like baking.”

She peels back the tinfoil. Her eyes flick from the plate set before her, to me, then back to the plate.

“Brownies,” she picks a little piece off the plate and pops it in her mouth. “With peanut butter chips. These are my favorite.”

“I know Pipsqueak.” I make sure to look her in the eye.

“Okay, now break up into your pairs and start planning.”

“Planning what?” Lola asks.

“How should I know? You’ve been distracting me ever since you got here.”

She rolls her eyes before she looks behind her and asks the group sitting there what we’re supposed to be doing.

Lola was adamant that she needed to apologize for being late. She told me I didn’t have to wait for her. It was at that moment that I decided that I’m going to show Lola that she can rely on me.

She pops out the door a few minutes later, looking lighter. I’m happy she didn’t listen to me. It looks like that conversation was precisely what she needed.

“Hey.” She jumps at my greeting, before bending over, clutching her heart.

“I didn’t know you were waiting for me.”

“How did it go in there?”

“Good, Chef Stroll was pretty understanding, but I hate being late, so I wanted to let her know why.”

The halls are quiet– the next time slot of classes started a few minutes ago. We start walking towards the student parking lot.

Lola’s eyes soften. She’s happy. Like genuinely happy.

“Why were you late?”

“I was helping Charlotte with a therapy ride at the barn. We were just about done with the session when the horse bucked a little. The little girl on the horse got really spooked.” Lola pauses.

“She had a meltdown and said she was never coming back. I had to stay and help. I let her know that kind of stuff happens to all of us.”

I look over to Lola, who is picking her nail beds.

“I’m sure you staying and talking to her made a big difference, Lo.”

“I don’t know. I just hope she comes back.” She lets out a sigh. “She was really starting to make some strides.”

I hold the door open for her when we reach the exit. She stops in the middle of the doorway and looks back at me quizzically.

“Why did you wait for me?”

“I was wondering if you had time to go to Expresso Yourself. I was hoping we could get some more stuff done for the project before I start my season,” I say as I rub my neck.

Lola keeps walking and I follow after in silence waiting for her answer. We get to her car, and she opens the door.

“I assume you still don’t have a car, right?”

I shake my head.

“Get in. I guess I have a couple of hours I can spare.”

“You really had me sweating.”

“Yup.” she pops the “p”.

A few minutes later we are seated at a high-top table in the back of the restaurant.

“Thanks for doing this, Lola,” I tell her genuinely. “I just know things are going to get crazy in a few weeks. I actually have a team lift in an hour and a half.”

“Yeah, Oliver is nervous. I told him he had nothing to worry about and that most of his teammates were good guys.”

“How is Oliver liking Westvale so far? Coach was really excited when he committed here.”

Oliver was one of the top goalie recruits in the northeast. The kid has a chance to be a legend.

Lola looks at me, eyes pinched. “We don’t have to do this, Byron. You made it clear this summer that we were never friends.”

It would have been less painful if she stabbed a knife through my heart. Did Lola really think that we were never friends?

“Lola, of course, we are friends. Sometimes things change, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to be in your life.”

Lola’s eyes are glassy as she inhales deeply through her nose. She is doing everything she can to not cry in public. When I go to place my hand on top of hers she pulls it off the table and tucks it into her lap, leaving mine there alone.

“Lola, between this project and how intertwined our friend groups are, we are going to be seeing a lot of each other,” I wait for her deep green eyes to meet mine before I continue.

“Lola, I miss you. I don’t know what happened this summer, but I want to prove to you that we can be friends.

I think we could be best friends.” I tack on my most charming smile.

She stays quiet, eyes trained on me. It feels like a test to make sure I won’t run if things get uncomfortable again. I fix my posture and make sure I’m looking her dead in the eyes, showing her I’m not scared to put in the work.

After what feels like eternity, she squints and places her hands on the table.

“I’m not going to make this easy for you. If you want my friendship, you’re going to have to work for it.”

A low laugh rips through my body. “I’m sorry. I just shouldn’t have expected anything less from you.”

Before Lola has the chance to respond, the waitress drops off our drinks.

“Thank you,” we say in unison.

When I turn back to continue the conversation that we were having, Lola has already pulled her notebook out with ideas she has for our menu scribbled in the margins.

“So I was thinking we could start with some kind of soup.”

I let her go on, hoping that she knows I am serious about the fact that I am willing to do anything to have her back in my life.

I’ve always wanted more with her but was nervous to tell her how I felt because Indy warned me that she never gets serious with anyone.

It is more important to me to have her in my life, even if it isn’t exactly in the role I want it to be.

“I think I have the perfect test for you to earn my friendship back,” she tells me as I’m writing down a recipe that just popped into my head.

I pause for a second, waiting for her to elaborate.

“Can you tell me what it is? “

“Nah, I’m going to keep it a surprise.”

For the first time since we stopped speaking this summer, I’m feeling hopeful that Lola and I can get back to where we were when it was just the two of us that knew about our relationship.

I’m checking the whiteboard to see who my training group is when I feel a hand slap on my shoulder.

“Looks like we’re partners tonight,” Oliver is standing at my side decked out in Westvale Hockey gear.

“Let me get my water, and we can go out and stretch before the rest of the team gets here.”

We start on the treadmill both turning the settings until we are paced at a light jog.

“I was just with your sister,” I tell Oliver. Looking out the window at the mountains that line the back of campus.

“Really?”

“We were working on that restaurant project I told you about the other night.”

Oliver nods like he remembers, but it’s a little fuzzy.

“I kind of remember that.” He pauses like he is trying hard to remember. “I was pretty drunk by the time I got to your house.”

“Well, what you told me about your sister and her trust really had me thinking about how I wish I worked harder to show her how much I cared for her.”

At that, his lips tug into a smile.

“She told me she is going to think of what I can do to earn her friendship back.”

“You know she is going to make your life miserable, right?”

“Yeah, I’m a little nervous about what her devious mind is going to think up,” I say between laughs and trying to catch my breath. I stop my treadmill. Oliver does the same.

I’m sliding the last of my weight plates onto the squat rack when my phone vibrates in my pocket.

It’s a text from Lola. It’s not until I click the notification that I realize it’s a shared note.

THINGS BYRON CAN DO TO EARN LOLA’S FRIENDSHIP BACK

Bring me coffee to every class

I gets to take Mia for a sleepover once this semester

Clean out Cookie’s stall three times

One full catered dinner for me and my roommates where you need to convince your roommates to be shirtless waiters

Get mani and pedis

Teach me how to skate

*This list is subject to change at any time until I decide that you have earned my friendship*

A small laugh escapes my lips, and it catches Oliver’s attention.

“What’s so funny?”

“Your sister, just let me know how I can earn her trust back.”

I push my phone over to him and watch his eyes grow larger each time he reads a new requirement.

“You know you are giving her permission to make your life a living hell, right?”

“She’s worth it.”