Page 14

Lola

“Why does the lighting in hotels always suck?” Margo’s disappointed voice carries through the suite her parents got us.

I’m not one to complain about a free hotel room, but the lighting really is awful.

A man definitely designed this hotel. One that doesn’t understand the importance of good lighting when applying makeup.

“I’m not going to bash this insane penthouse your parents got us,” I tell her as I use my hands to gesture over the vast living area.

I’d consider myself blessed if I ever got to live in an apartment half this size.

“I’m just happy I didn’t have to convince my parents to let twelve drunk girls stay at their house tonight. ”

“Well, can I be honest and say this place needs more light.” Margo’s family has worked in the oil industry in Dallas for generations.

She’s got old southern money. When she got to Westvale she was as southern belle as you can imagine.

It took a few years but we have happily corrupted little Miss Prim and Proper.

Hotel rooms also never have enough mirrors. The travel mirror I brought with me is propped up on the window sill and I watch my reflection as I run the straightener through my hair.

With my hair and makeup done, I rummage through the eight outfits I bought for tonight. I learned early on that going on trips with an entire basketball team and being the height of a fourth grader means the only suitcase I can choose an outfit from, is my own.

Silky collisions of orange and pink draw me to the balcony. I look over my city’s skyline trying to decide what I’m going to wear.

Izzy and Tee, a senior center on the basketball team, are sitting on the couch smoking a bowl still in the same outfits they were wearing when we went shopping earlier today.

“We are leaving in forty minutes for dinner. You guys need to get ready.”

It must be some good weed because they start uncontrollably laughing at me. Izzy pulls out her phone and sees the time.

“Shit, Tee, we have to get ready.” They jump off the couch and bolt into the hotel suite.

It’s still warm, and living in the northeast my entire life, I know I need to soak in all of these days while I can.

Inspired by tonight’s sunset, I pull out the short sangria-colored dress with the embellished straps and pair it with a black strappy heel in hopes it makes up for the disadvantage I have in the height department in the pictures we will take while we’re out.

Thirty minutes later, the sun has fully set and the streets of Philadelphia have come to life. The sound of locally famous bands pour out of dive bars. Drunk Phillies fans are celebrating a walk-off playoff win. It’s the perfect night to show my friends why my hometown is so special.

I post a picture on my Instagram story with a poll asking if my heels make up the height difference between me and my friends. They don’t, if you were wondering.

Ivy is the first person to send a DM asking me to tell the group she misses us and that she will visit Westvale soon.

The following two messages come in instantaneously.

Byron:

Wearing the nickname like a badge of honor, Pipsqueak.

Dalton:

Damn, Lola, Looking good ??

To see those two names next to each other on my phone feels like my future being written despite the past doing its best to stay at the forefront of my mind. It’s just my luck; I’m insanely attracted to both.

After dinner, we went to a sports bar to kill time before our table reservation at Sixty-Two, the club the center for the Eagles owns which opened last year.

If you ever need a confidence boost, go to a male-dominated sports bar dressed to go dancing at the club.

Izzy somehow managed to secure multiple rounds of free shots, so we all leave a little tipsy and ready for the next stop.

Indy is giving her name to the bouncer for our reservation when I hear someone calling my name.

I brace myself before I turn to see who is calling. You never know who you’re going to run into when you’re at home.

“Lola!” It’s a little louder this time.

I smile when I find who the voice belongs to. I wave him and his friends up the line. The groups of people waiting to get in between us try to stop them, but they just ignore them.

“Dalton, what are you doing here?” Even on my tip toes he has to bend down for me to be able to wrap my arms around his neck.

“We decided to come in for the night before the season starts. Why are you back home?”

I’ve gotten the occasional text from Dalton since our run in outside Expresso Yourself.

I really like him. His banter is top notch and he makes me laugh.

I still think we look a little odd together.

His polos and gelled back hair should be repealed by my tattoos and affinity for back outfits.

Maybe I should give the whole opposites attract thing a shot. Nothing else has worked for me so far.

“It’s Izzy’s twenty-first birthday, so we got a table here.” I pause. I don’t think the girls will be upset if I invite some cute hockey player to sit with us. “Why don’t you guys come in with us?”

“We’d love to,” Dalton says without consulting any of his teammates.

I grab Indy’s shoulder and push her down until I can whisper into her ear. It probably couldn’t have been any less subtle. “Dalton is here, and I invited him and his teammates to come to our table.”

Indy’s eyes get big, and her mouth drops open. “Like hot Dalton, the Dalton you’re using to get over Byron, Dalton?”

I feel my eyes grow big, trying to distract my friend from my reddening cheeks. “Have you ever heard me talk about any other Dalton?”

Indy contemplates it for a second, like there has been a surplus of Daltons in my life.

I dig my license out of my purse, and when I look up to give my ID to the bouncer, he just shakes his head.

“I don’t need that, Lola; you’re fine to go in.”

“Mr. Puro, Jess didn’t tell me you were working tonight.

” The man in charge of the door bends down and gives me a hug.

Mr. Puro is my childhood best friend’s dad.

He was a detective with the Philadelphia Police Department before he was forced to retire a couple of years ago.

He now works security for all the pro sports teams in the city and occasionally works the door at some of the clubs.

“She’s got some dress-up party the entire athletic department is going to.” Jess is on the crew team at Syracuse. Let me tell you that the school knows how to party.

We’re ushered in and I wave goodbye to Mr. Puro and wait inside the door for Dalton and his friends. The rest of the guys follow the cocktail waitress through the flashing lights to our table. Dalton grabs my hand and pulls me down a dimly lit hallway.

“Let me buy you a drink.”

My eyebrows pinch as I look up at him. “We have bottle service at the table.” I know he knows how this all works. He’s from a wealthy family who lives in New York City. We’ve had very spirited debates about what’s the best club in the city.

“Yeah, but I didn’t pay for those and I don’t want to mooch off you guys.” I take his hand, which is draped over my shoulder, and squeeze it. This is all I’ve ever wanted, someone that does the little things just because.

“Let’s go to the table first. I don’t want my friends to think that I ditched them”

When I look over to where our friends are, they are all taking shots. “It looks like we are missing out.”

I unwind his hand from behind my neck and guide him through the dancing bodies, dodging people left and right as we make our way to the platform our friends are sitting on.

“Did y’all save us a shot?”

Margo pulls two shots out from behind her back like she’s some kind of magician. I hand one to Dalton before I let the clear liquid warm my throat. It happens before I have time to process it, Dalton takes an open spot on the couch and pulls me down onto his lap.

An uncharacteristic giggle escapes my lips as I fall. I shimmy my dress down my legs before I run my hand through Dalton’s short hair. I catch him looking at my lips.

We’ve had a strictly flirtatious relationship up until now. If my relationship with Byron has taught me anything, it’s that hiding your relationship doesn’t mean you’re protecting it. Plus, this thing with Dalton is just meant to be fun.

I wrap my hands around the back of his neck and pull his lips to mine.

I may have been the one who started the kiss, but Dalton deepens it.

Cheers break out around us and I look up thinking some celebrity has just come into the club.

The cheers are for us. Our friends are celebrating like we were the last in the friend group to get our first kiss.

When the flashing lights from the DL stand find Dalton, his eyes haze over. He runs his palm up my thigh. I place mine on top of his when he reaches the hem of my dress.

“Get another round of shots ready, and when I come back from the bathroom, we are going to dance.” He grabs the bottle of tequila before I’m even off his lap.

Indy is the closest friend to me so I grab her hand, not giving her a chance to decide if she wants to come.

When we are both comfortably settled in our respective stalls, Indy lets it free, “That was some kiss, Lo.”

“You know that’s the Dalton I met this summer, right? It’s not like I’m making out with some guy I pulled off the street.”

“I’m just saying for someone that kept a multi-month relationship from her friends, that was a little out of character.”

Even though she can’t see it, I roll my eyes as I step out of the stall and wash my hands.

“Well, that didn’t end well, did it?” When she doesn’t answer, I add, “Maybe it’s time I try something new.”

My purse vibrates, and while I’m waiting for Indy to wash her hands, I pull it out to see Byron’s name on my screen.

Byron:

We can’t wait to see you tomorrow!

Attached is a picture of him and Mia in bed. Byron is shirtless. Very shirtless and very good looking.

Indy peers over my shoulder, which isn’t very hard for her to do. I can feel the judgment radiating off of her.

“Are you sure you’re ready to try something new?”

I really wish I decided to take that shot before the bathroom. I hope Dalton made it a double.

I nod and let my faux confidence radiate off me. Nonna always said fake it till you make it. Well she actually said make it till it’s fake, but we cut her some slack, english being her second language and all.

“No, dude, you can’t have this shot; it’s for Lola.”

I come to a quick halt behind our table.

“Can’t you just pour her a new one?” his teammate asks. I clear my throat, not needing to hear more of the bickering to confirm that I am ready to try something new.

“This for me?”

“You really had to come back now?” The large hockey player huffs before he calls over a bottle girl and hands her his card, asking her to bring some more tequila.

“Thanks for protecting this.” The shot drowns away thoughts of Byron in bed…without a shirt and has me focusing on the present.

“Want to dance?”

Dalton takes my hand and doesn’t let go until we are in the middle of the dance floor.

“This way, we can have some time to ourselves.”

I look around at the dozens of dancing bodies surrounding us, but none of them belong to the people we came here with. That does make this feel a little more intimate.

I turn so my back is to his front and start moving my body against his.

One strong hand is placed on my hip. The other is lying flat on my stomach.

The beat starts to pick up and my body starts to move.

His hand on my stomach starts to move lower and I know I said I’m doing tonight differently, but I didn’t mean that much differently.

I turn to face him and make a game-time decision.

“Are you guys going to be home tomorrow?”

He rests his hand on my ass before answering. “Yeah, we will be. Why?”

“My friend is having a party. Why don’t you and a couple of the guys stop by?”

Dalton pulls back so he is looking me in the eyes. He leans down and presses a light kiss on my lips but pulls away far too quickly.

“We’ll be there.”

I go up on my tip-toes and give the kind of kiss I’m craving. This preppy-looking kid, someone my parents would love, is making me feel things. I guess sometimes your parents really do know better. Don’t tell my mom I said that.