Page 16

This is the first genuine one-on-one time we have had recently.

We aren’t meeting to talk about our project or hanging out in a group setting.

It’s something we would have done last year.

We were never embarrassed of our relationship.

We just wanted to make sure it was real before we told our friends about it.

Inter-friend dating-or friendsect as I’ve coined it–can get awkward and we didn’t want to drag our friends into it if it ended up burning out.

As I settle in my seat, Lola picks through the nail polishes that line the wall in front of the spa.

Even in her platform Converse she still needs to get up on her tip-toes to select the color she wants.

The sleeve of her shirt falls leaving her shoulder bare.

For the first time I notice the small tattoo.

“Are those boxing gloves?”

Lola glances down, confusion etched into her expression.

“Yeah, this was one of my first tattoos. Boxing gloves for Rocky–” She leaves the words hanging.

Then it clicks.

“Rocky is from Philly.”

Lola flashes me her most genuine smile, and damn, she is beautiful.

“So Charlotte is coming tonight?” I ask while setting the massage function on my chair.

“Yeah, she hasn’t come up for a party yet. She wants to see everyone.” Lola holds up two fake painted nails. “Which do you like better?”

Lola loves her dark, moody colors. I don’t know if I’ve ever seen her in anything brighter than a mauve. My choices for her nail polish are a deep, rich brown and a burnt orange, think the University of Texas.

“I like the orange one. I feel like it’s a solid fall color.”

“You have a weird obsession with fall colors.”

This girl, man.

“You asked for my advice, and I told you that I would always be honest with you.” She locks eyes with me for a split second. If you blinked, you would have missed it before she looks down shyly.

“And in this case, the leaves are about to change, and I think the orange is a good option because of that.”

Lola hands the manicurist the orange nail polish before sitting in the chair next to me.

“Thanks for coming with me. It’s fun doing something like this together again.”

Some of the tension I’ve been holding in my shoulders releases. My plan to remind her of what we had is starting to lay its foundation.

“Me too, I missed this. Missed you.”

I’m throwing on a vintage New York Rangers sweater when there is a pinging from the other side of my room. My phone is lit up with a text from Lola. Since I’m in the solace of my bedroom, away from the assholes that are my roommates, I sprint to the other side of my room.

Lola:

Added to the shared note “Friendship-Do List”

Don’t think it’s going to get shorter any time soon.

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

Plan a day at the Westvale’s Fall Festival for our us and our friends

Westvale’s Fall Festival is one of those small-town events that gets its residents together and offers the college students something to do. Plus, all the local craft brewers come, and things can get pretty crazy. Just ask Josiah where he ended up after last year’s fall fest.

I’m alone in the kitchen pouring some rum into a red solo cup after a very disappointing shower beer.

The front door flies open and suddenly Mia is flying throughout the house. The walk Aaron took her on clearly did nothing to get her zoomie’s out before the party.

“Aaron, guess who’s coming tonight?”

“Half of the student-athletes at Westvale,” he jokes before pulling a hard seltzer out of the fridge.

“This specific girl happens to go to school a few towns away.” Aaron’s eyes perk up with interest.

“Charlotte is coming?”

“Lola invited her.”

The kid has no shot and he knows it. For some reason it’s always the ones we can’t have that we want the most. Trust me, I know.

“It’s finally going to happen.”

“No, it’s not,” Josiah and I say in unison. I have no clue where he came from, but he is dressed for the party in dark jeans and an Aaliyah graphic tee.

Aaron huffs before walking away. He’s just missing a hair flip for the full dramatics.

“When is everyone coming?” Josiah asks.

I look down at my watch and see that it’s ten.

“Marcus told Indy and the girls to come now, so they should be here any minute.”

It’s like I summoned them. Indy walks through our door first, acting like she owns the place.

She may as well. We are all honestly a little scared of her.

Then Charlotte looking every bit the preppy horse girl she is.

A few of Indy’s teammates fill the gap until I see the girl I’ve been waiting for.

Her back is turned to me and she bursts into laughter. It’s not the sarcastic, dry laugh she uses to hide behind. It’s her deep genuine belly laugh that she only shows a lucky few.

She turns on one heel, freezing when she realizes we are all waiting for her. Her cheeks turn pink as she throws a small, shy wave in my direction. My hand is halfway up to wiggle my fingers at her and make her laugh. Suddenly a large figure comes towering over.

I blink. Blink again. Then do a double take.

Why the fuck is Dalton Powell in my fucking house?

Why is he touching my Lola? How the fuck is that prick making her all bashful.

Lola told me last semester that I was the only person who has ever made her feel that way.

If that’s true, there is no way this trust fund kid from the Upper East Side can warm her ice-cold heart the same way.

I find the closest door and just exit through it.

I end up in our garage– which is set up as a smoke room–and lose my cool.

My half-full rum and coke finds itself against the wall.

A couple of old wooden stools are tossed to the other side of the open space.

I have a lawn chair cocked back and ready to fly.

“Put down the lawn chair, and nobody gets hurt.”

I set the chair on the cold concrete floor. Marcus has a Nurf gun pointed in my direction. And in any other scenario, I would have found that absolutely hilarious.

I fall into the seat and bury my head in my hands that rest on my knees.

“What did I miss?” Josiah asks. My teammates know the disdain that I have for the man who just walked in with the girl I miss more than I thought I was capable of.

“That guy, Lola, walked in with, is Byron’s arch nemesis,” Aaron informs our football-playing roommate.

If looks could kill Aaron would be dead. This isn’t some cartoon like hatred. Dalton made my life a living hell.

“Dalton grew up on the Upper East Side. His trust fund could probably feed a small country for a decade and he wouldn’t miss that money.

He had all the top trainers, practiced at all the best rinks,” I gather myself before I continue.

“Jalen and I played for a team that gave underprivileged kids the chance to play hockey. We all had hand-me-down equipment. We played Dalton’s team in scrimmages and tournaments. The shit he would say was just wrong.”

I can’t look into my roommates’ eyes. I’m not embarrassed to have grown up with a single mom in a small two bedroom apartment in Brooklyn.

My mom sacrificed everything to make sure I had an amazing childhood.

I love that her work ethic is instilled in me, something a pretentious prick like him will never have.

“Then he committed to Hamilton University, and I knew I’d have to play him twice a year. How the fuck does he know Lola?”

“I don’t know By, but they look cozy,” Josiah tells me. Ripping off a band-aid would be less painful.

I groan. My head hangs over the back of my chair.

“What are you going to do about it?” Marcus asks. “You have a class project with her. The same friend group. I know you miss her, Byron. That you want her back. So show her why you are the right one for her. Remind her why you were worth sneaking around for.”

“She was the happiest I had ever seen her last semester. Even when I didn’t know that it was because of you, I knew whatever the change was, Lola needed to make it permanent,” Aaron adds as he pats my shoulder.

My friends are right. There is not a doubt in my mind that Dalton’s true colors will eventually shine. I pull the beer out of Marcus’ loose grip and finish it off for him.

“Boys, I think we have a party to host.”