Page 25

Lola

“Come on, Lola, now that your schedule isn’t full of biology classes, you have time to enter the competition.”

Charlotte’s finishing saddling up her horse when I walk by her stall. The plan was to ride through the valley, but in true New York State fashion, we got an unexpected cold blast last night.

Charlotte giddiness about the change of weather makes perfect sense now.

“I don’t know Char, it’s been a long time since I competed. I still have a full class schedule this semester.”

I settle myself in Cookie’s saddle and let out a low breath. I run my hand down Cookie’s face.

“Tell your mom I’m in, but I’m going to need more arena time. I’m more than a little rusty.” I act like it’s a throw away statement as I ride past Nigel’s stall.

I’m supposed to be taking back my life. Competing used to make me really happy. With Dalton and the Westvale guys in full hockey mode and my roommate’s basketball season picking up, it might not be a bad idea for me to be working towards something myself.

A sense of victory flashes in her eyes. “I’m so excited!” She squeals and does a little happy dance.

I shake my head as I ride past her and into the heated arena. I take in the course Charlotte set up.

“If we’re really going to do this.” I say to Cookie, “We’re going to win.”

It takes a few runs, but by the end of our session Cookie and I are running through the course like pros. It’s exhilarating.

“You did great today.” Charlotte’s hand is laid flat in front of Cookie, a mint in her palm.

“I have to admit it was fun. It’s just different riding when you know you’re getting ready for a competition.” I work the brush down Cookie’s back making sure to give her extra loving after all her hard work today. “I definitely have a long way to go before I’m ready to compete.”

“You’ll be there in no time.” She pauses in front of Cookie’s stall. “And once you are, you’ll finally see that I am better than you.”

I roll my eyes. “Whatever you say, Char. Have any plans for tonight?”

“The bar on Main Street has a two for one happy hour. So I’ll be drunk on margaritas by eight.”

Without Charlotte even asking I blurt out, “I actually have a double date.” Charlotte’s eyes lock on me.

“It’s um—um with Byron and some girl that he met at Jasper’s after his game on Tuesday.”

She tilts her head.

“Well, I kind of invited them,” I say, moving around Cookie’s stall, making sure everything is cleaned up.

“Why would you do that?”

“I don’t know.” I throw my hands over my head. “I was vibing with her, and then he was all jealous that we hit it off and asked me about Dalton. That just pissed me off so I said they should join us this weekend.” I lean my head against the wall.

“He called my bluff.” I shrug my shoulders.

“Wow.” Charlotte inhales. “How are things going with Dalton?”

What’s the opposite of butterflies?

There hasn’t been this big systematic change in our relationship.

I’ve just started to pick up on some things.

He used to text me first thing after practice.

Nowadays I don’t hear from him at all. He blames it on post-game debriefs or running drills after practice, but then Cora will see him at a bar in Hamilton, or Charlotte will see him at a house party.

They never see him with another girl or anything, but I have been friends with athletes since freshman year, and I’ve watched their teammates lie to their significant others, pretending to be single to jump into someone else’s bed.

“Good. I think.” I take a deep breath. “There has been this shift in our relationship, but I think it’s just because his season has started.”

“Well, you know I’ll be your eyes and ears when he is in Hamilton.”

I pull her in for a hug, “I know Char, and that’s why I love you.”

I’m not sure why, but on my way home, the look Charlotte had on her face when we talked about Dalton is all I see.

Mom:

I know you are probably going out tonight, so I didn’t want to call. Just reminding you that the last day to change your major is next Friday.

I toss my phone on my bed. I just don’t have the bandwidth to deal with her right now.

I’m so sick of her micromanaging. Penny let her because she’s the perfect oldest daughter.

Oliver is the only son in an Italian family and he can quite literally do no wrong.

So then that leaves me as the forever disappointment of a child.

The one who can’t even get her dating life under control.

I glance at the two outfits laid out on my bed. Both are all black.

Choice one: a pair of black slim-fit jeans and a loose, off-the-shoulder black sweater.

Choice two: a black leather skirt that hits mid-thigh and a long-sleeved black bodysuit.

I glance out my window to see the weather which has done a complete one-eighty since I got home from the barn.

So I opt for option two and throw on a pair of brick red heeled boots, added height is always appreciated.

I’m careful not to disturb the plastic wrap around my wrist, sheltering my new ink, a small horse shoe, to remember the day I started competing again.

I finish the outfit with gold hoops and layered gold necklaces, feeling like the small Italian grandma I am destined to be. After a swipe of red lipstick, I’m ready to go.

I text Dalton and let him know I’m leaving. He’s meeting me there. His practice ended at six, and it didn’t make sense to have him come to pick me up since the brewery is closer to Hamilton. Plus, it’s probably better if I have an excuse not to drink.

Indy, Marcus and Margo are all in the living room watching a basketball game when I get downstairs.

Marcus lets out a low whistle, both my roommates spring to their feet, giving me a standing ovation.

“You look beautiful,” Margo gushes as she pulls away from my hug.

“I can’t believe you’re actually going,” Indy’s words are laced with skepticism.

“Well, it’s too late now. I just hope Byron and Dalton don’t rip each other’s heads off.” They’ve both been uncharacteristically upbeat about going tonight, which has made me very nervous.

I grab my keys before turning back to my roommates, “Wish me luck.”

“Have fun, Lo!” Margo waves enthusiastically. The ever optimistic.

“If you decide you need to drink to get through tonight and need a ride home, give me a call, and I’ll come pick you up,” Indy offers.

I shoot off a text to both Dalton and Byron–- separately — to let them know I’m on my way before tucking my phone in my purse and pulling out a piece of gum.

I find Byron and Avery right where he said they’d be. A Dirty Shirley sits in front of the open seat.

“Hey, Pips,” he says with a smile. “You remember Avery?”

“I’m the one who invited her here, of course I remember. How was your week Avery? ”

“Good,” she says. “The kids had a field trip today so I can’t complain.”

Avery’s in a pair of burnt orange corduroys and a lacy off-white blouse. Her hair is perfectly straight and makeup impeccably done. She is the type of girl every mom hopes for their son to be with.

A buzzing stops the conversation.

“Our table is ready.” Bryon holds up his phone, and a hostess shows us to our table. Still no Dalton. Not even an answer to my text, yet I can see he’s read it.

“Dalton should be here any minute.” I hope.

The first time the waiter comes around, we tell him we are waiting for one more person. When he comes around again, we each put in an order for a flight of their signature craft beers.

The bastard is really going to stand me up. It suddenly feels like there is no air in the room. I scrunch up my sleeves in the hopes of getting some kind of reprieve.

“Is that a new tattoo?” Byron points to the plastic wrap around my wrist.

He always notices the little things.

“Yeah,” I peel the protective cover back. The little horse shoe is already starting to scab.

“That’s cool. Do you have any others?” Avery asks.

I pull up the rest of my right sleeve. “Yeah, just a few.” I giggle.

Her eyes dance over my arm. “Wow, that’s a lot.”

“What’s this one for?” Byron asks, knowing that I don’t just permanently etch something into my skin without a memory attached.

“Charlotte convinced me to sign up for a competition. It’s my first one–”

The seat next to me screeches against the dark concrete floor.

“Sorry, I’m late. Coach held a last-minute film session, and I couldn’t ditch it,” Dalton says. He presses a gentle kiss to my cheek.

“A text would have been nice.” I murmur under my breath, loud enough for only my ears.

Dalton opens his menu, “What did everyone get to drink?”

His button down is wrinkled. No gel to tame his wavy hair. The normally impeccably put together man has one khaki pant pulled over his boot, one tucked in. I don’t like the feeling that settles in my gut.

It’s just my mind playing tricks on me. I tell myself. He was just rushing after practice.

“You were just telling us why you got your tattoo,” Avery reminds me. Pointing to my new ink.

“Oh, umm, I haven’t competed since high school, so I thought it was a reason to celebrate.”

“That’s so cool, babe. I can’t wait to watch you compete.”

Other than a few glares and some snide comments, I’d consider tonight a success. I really like Avery, I even invited her to come to the pregame the boys are having next weekend with me and my roommates.

I’m scrolling through Netflix while Dalton gets ready for bed in the bathroom. My phone pings in my lap and I smile at the name on the lock screen.

Byron:

Hey, do you think you could get me an appointment with Cora?

Me:

I’m going in tomorrow to get something touched up. Let me see if she has availability.

Cora responds to my messages quickly.

Me:

She said she could take you tomorrow after she is done with my touch-up. Want me to pick you up? My appointment is at noon.

Byron:

Perfect, I’ll see you then.

Me:

Be ready at 11:45 ??

“What are you smiling at?”

Dalton tucks himself into my side, shirtless and looking so damn good. He takes my lips in a passionate kiss, and I disregard my phone.

“Just a funny TikTok.” The lie just slips out. Not worried that I didn’t have a single thought about telling him the truth.

All concern gone when his lips land back on mine, his hands start to play with the hem of my t-shirt.

I guess we are done talking for the night.