Page 23

Lola

If you ever need a place to overthink, sitting in your car waiting for your brother and his drunk friends is prime real estate.

I’ve done some regretful things in those Hickey dorms–it’s never not funny to say–my freshman year but none of them compare to having the dog of the guy you used to date pee on the guy you’re currently dating.

This year, we splurged on a couple of hotel rooms so I need my brother to get his ass down here because I need a drink.

The clock flips to 12:33pm

Where is he?

I’m about to punch in the last digit of Oliver’s phone number when I see him. Body relaxed, eyes soft, smile threatening his lips. Casual, on his own time.

He keeps his leisurely pace even after he spots my car. His teammates are laughing at something he said, each one with a different drink in their hand.

Without an ounce of remorse, Oliver comfortably slides into the front seat. I snatch the to-go cup in his hand, before I’m even able to pull off the lid my body rejects the smell of cheap vodka and cranberry juice.

The oversized man-children, who are relying on me for a ride, burst into laughter.

“I have no problem leaving you on the side of the road.” I snarl.

The threat doesn’t do much, my dry heaves don’t instill much fear. I can only hope they fare better at the smell of Well’s vodka by the time they are seniors.

“It’s okay, Lowy.”

He didn’t just fucking Lowy me. I hate that nickname.

“We all know what happens when you get old,” He informs me. If his glazed over eyes are any indication we are going to be in for a long day.

“From a Fall Fest veteran, my advice is to remember that today is a marathon not a sprint.”

The faces in my rearview mirror fall in awe like I’m some modern day Socrates. When in reality, I’m a senior in college who has spent one too many nights hugging the toilet.

I nearly cried from laughing so hard when we pulled into the hotel’s parking lot. I’m not sure who decided it was a good idea to throw eighteen year olds on to the co-ed floor the moment they got some freedom, but they are truly insane.

The car carrying my friends pulls up not even thirty seconds later, and we all walk into the hotel’s lobby. The modern-looking ski lounge is a far cry from anything you’d see in Westvale.

Windows that have to be two stories high stretch from the floor to the ceiling, framing the most picturesque mountain views. Faux fur blankets lie behind the couches making it feel like staying at a friend’s house, not a two-hundred and fifty room resort.

I’m not sure how Indy snagged rooms here last minute. It’s a stone’s throw to the town center and has everything we’ll need for a one-night stay, including a ropes course through the mountains that I’m dying to do.

While everyone is dropping their bags off in their rooms I add to the Friendship-Do list.

THINGS BYRON CAN DO TO EARN LOLA’S FRIENDSHIP BACK

1) Bring me coffee to every class

2) I get to get to take Mia for a sleepover once this semester

3) You have to clean out Cookie’s stall three times

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

5) Get mani and pedis

6)You teach me how to skate

7)Plan a day at the Westvale Fall Festival for our friends and us

8)Do the ropes course at Fall Fest

Crossing off number seven, I make room for task number eight. It’s almost simultaneous, once I save the list, I hear a notification ping behind me.

“Oh, I’d wreck that course.” A familiar voice comes from behind me.

I’m rolling my eyes before I even turn around.

“I wouldn’t be so quick to speak, Byron,” I pause for dramatic effect. “I think someone my size might have an advantage for this one.”

His shoulders drop. He knows I’m right. His six-foot-one frame is good for a lot of things. I think we just agreed keeping his balance on a rope strung between two trees isn’t one of them.

“One day, we’ll put this to rest, Pips,” he says before throwing his arm over my shoulder. “but today is about drinking.”

He hands me a light beer and offers his can for cheers, and I tap his. His eyes are intensely glued to mine. I’m a little startled.

“Are you okay? You’re freaking me out.” I ask, genuinely concerned that he might be having some kind of mild stroke.

“Haven’t you ever heard that if you don’t look someone in the eyes when you’re cheersing, you’re doomed to seven years of bad sex?

” His posture straightens like he is about to start a presentation at a medical conference, but his eyes gleaming with that same silliness that reeled me in that first night at Jasper’s.

It takes me getting on my tiptoes to reach his shoulder and shove him back.

“You and those damn jokes. I really thought you were about to tell me something serious.”

“Me, serious?” He flicks his wrist at me.

How foolish of me for even thinking he could be serious. Isn’t that the problem with a man like Byron; they make you yearn for something they’ll never be capable of giving you.

Out of the corner of my eye, I spot the rest of our group stepping out of the elevator. I finish my beer in one long swing.

“What is going on with you and Byron,” Indy whispers in my ear as she races to catch up to Margo and me.

“Nothing,” I murmur. Picking up the pace so we are out of earshot of everyone else.

“Doesn’t seem like nothing.”

I feel it growing inside me. The anger. The resentment. The embarrassment. I take it out on my friend.

“I don’t know what you saw, but stop romanticizing it in that pretty little head of yours,” I tell her in an attempt to hide my feelings. “Plus, Dalton is waiting for me at the tent.”

I beeline to the booth that Dalton texted me he’d be at. He’s easy to spot in his Ralph Lauren collared sweater and perfectly parted hair. He’s waiting for me, a beer in each hand.

“Hey beautiful,” the smile that spreads across his face when I finally find him can only be described as panty dropping. “This is for you.” He leans and gently kisses me.

“Thanks,” I take a sip of the pumpkin-flavored beer. “This is amazing.”

“Isn’t it good?”

I nod before eagerly taking another sip.

“Come meet my friends.” He takes me and leads us to the other side of the tent.

Then it hits me that I haven’t really met his friends yet. The club in Philly is no place to have a deep conversation. Since we’ve gotten more serious we have either gone out just the two of us, or he has come and spent the night in Westvale with my \

friends.

Six giant sized men tower over me.

“It’s about damn time,” a redhead in a Canadian tuxedo blurts out.

I’m introduced to Amy and Lauren, whose boyfriends, Sam and Austin are Dalton’s friends from home. They welcome me with open arms even though my black leather leggings and long black sweater clash with their sweater dresses and cute preppy headbands.

When I check my phone to see if any of my friends texted me, I’m shocked to see that I’ve been here nearly two hours.

“I should go find my friends. They will be wondering where I am.”

“Make sure you find us before you leave,” Amy says. She wraps me in a hug.

She doesn’t want to see you again. People like her think you’re not good enough for them.

My imposter syndrome always shows up when I’m with a new group of friends my parents would approve of.

“I will, I know the guys want to go to some bar later. Let me get your number and I’ll text you the name.” Lauren holds her hand out.

The rush of air when I step outside of the tent is a welcome reprieve from the packed bodies and stale beer.

I take my time strolling from tent to tent enjoying the unexpected time alone. I stop at a booth that is selling hot pasta oil from a local restaurant.

“This is so good,” I mumble with my sample of bread and oil still in my mouth. “I need like eight–”

I suddenly lose my appetite. My eyes are burning, but I can’t look away. The second hand embarrassment sits on my chest. Why is no one stopping my little brother from feverishly making out with some girl that I have never seen before.

“Like you have never made out with someone while drunk in public before.”

I turn on my heels and point my finger at his chest.

“I’d expect nothing less from the king of public makeouts, but the sun is still out,” My voice cracks.

“But I’m serious, Lo, let him make his own mistakes. We’ve all done it.”

When I turn back I’m happy that I can see my brother’s face without a disrupted view. Oliver’s laughing at something the girl said after putting her number in his phone.

Byron’s right, he can handle himself.

“Lowy!” Oliver howls from the other side of the tent.

“Lowy?” Byron bites back his grin

I ignore him, more focused on my brother’s stumbling strides. I’m hit with the unmistakable scent of beer when Oliver leans in and tries to give me a hug. I place my hand on his chest and push him back up straight.

“Stop using that nickname,” I mumble through gritted teeth.

“No.” It’s the kind of defiance that only a sibling can get away with. He brushes my shoulder, nearly knocking me over before going to look for his friends.

Byron opens his mouth before he can get a word out. I clamp his lips shut with my thumb and pointer finger.

“Only my Nonno is allowed to use that nickname. I fucking hate it.”

I let go of his lips and if the twinkle in his eye isn’t enough of an indicator, the smirk tugging at the right side of his mouth says it all.

“Whatever you want, Lowy.”

I’m about to protest, when my mouth snaps shut.

I blink a couple of times. Shake my head.

That can’t be Dalton with his mouth to another woman’s ear.

He tucks a strand of hair behind it and whispers in a very sensual way.

She is beautiful. My exact opposite, with long blonde hair and legs that seem to go on for days.

Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Byron open his mouth before closing it again.

“Just say it,” I snap, then cringe. “I’m sorry; I just want you to be honest with me.”

“I know that you spent the last couple of hours with him and his friends Lola, but that means nothing to a guy like Dalton. He only sees what’s in front of him, and that’s not always going to be you.”

“That’s real rich coming from you.” My words are sharp, but part of me still wonders how many girls Byron had in front of him this summer when I wasn’t around.

“What are you talking about?” His eyebrows pinch as his eyes sear into my soul. How can he be this clueless?

I huff. “I was in New York this summer Byron and I saw you all cuddled up with that girl.”

“What girl? I wasn’t with a girl this summer.” His eyebrows are pinched. Then his eyes grow.

“Was she blonde?” He asks. His grin is growing.

I nod, confused on what he can be so happy about.

“Lola, that was my cousin, Isabel.”

His cousin? That can’t be right.

“You have a cousin?”

Byron snorts. “Yeah I have a few. She was visiting colleges in the northeast. She pushed her flight to Florida back a few days and came to New York to hang with me and my mom.”

I’m going to be sick. This can’t be true, it feels like my entire world just got turned upside down.

Byron’s eyes soften.

“I’m sorry Lo, you should have just asked.” There is no judgment in his voice. He leans forward like he wants to take a step towards me, but pulls back when I turn my head back in the direction of my brother.

“I get it, don’t worry. I’m going to go make sure Oliver isn’t puking in a trashcan somewhere.”

Of course he is understanding and it only makes me feel more guilty. I wouldn’t blame him if he was mad at me for jumping to conclusions. Instead he remembers my insecurities and doesn’t throw them in my face. He’s a good friend.

You push away everyone who’s supposed to care about you. The little voice in my head reminds me.

He turns away. Leaving me to deal with Dalton.

I inhale deeply, digging for the confidence to confront Dalton. He needs to know that I’m not doing this thing if I can’t trust him.

I catch his eyes as I strut over to the bar he is at, and I do mean strut. I have to make these legs look as long as possible.

“Hey,” I squeeze Dalton’s arm. “Can we talk for a second?”

“Umm sure,” He looks confused. “I don’t think you got to meet Morgan before.”

“Hi, nice to meet you.” I offer a curt wave.

“This is my girlfriend Lola.”

I suddenly lose my ability to speak.

“Girlfriend?” I hate the sheepish tone my voice takes on.

“Yeah,” Dalton’s confident tone makes this whole situation hotter. I mean, who doesn’t love a man that takes what he wants? “I want to see where this thing can go.”

“Yeah, me too.”