Page 26

Byron

Leaving things to the last minute is a specialty of mine. That’s how I ended up running through the grocery store bakery trying to decide what to get Lola. The plan was to bake her caramel fudge brownies, but this hangover was summoned by the devil himself.

Lola and Dalton decided not to come to Jasper’s last night, but Avery had her friends meet us, and honestly, it was a great time. Until Avery asked what was going on between Lola and me.

I was five craft beers and three shots deep. I wouldn’t say I cried per se, but I definitely let some emotions out that I’ve been holding in since the last time my dad left.

I was told to man the fuck up and show Lola the type of man she deserved. The kind that would agree to double dates with a practical stranger just to spend time with her. She also agreed with my suspicion that Dalton wasn’t late because of something hockey-related.

“He just strolled into that brewery too lackadaisical.” Avrey said.

The plans of late-night strategizing with Avery and her friends are being put into motion– step one, remind Lola why we were so good together.

When I can’t find what I’m looking for, I stop at the bakery counter and wave down the older woman frosting a birthday cake.

“What can I help you with?”

“I was just wondering if you have any of those mini chocolate chip cookies coming out? I didn’t see any on the table.”

“Oh, we moved them.” She drops the frosting so she can point to her left. “They are just beyond the bagels. You should see a bunch on a table.”

“Thank you! You just saved me.”

“Can this machine be any slower?” I mumble to myself while hitting the side of the coffee maker.

I had planned to go to Lola’s favorite coffee shop in town to pick her up a cappuccino, but Marcus needed his car back.

Jalen picked up this coffee maker at a garage sale before we moved into the house a couple of years ago.

It has to be twice as old as we are and brews coffee at a glacial pace.

When the last of the fresh brew spits into the carafe, I split it into two to-go cups. I may not have a fancy espresso machine like Lola, but this old machine does brew a strong cup, and I know that’s what Lola wants from a cup of coffee.

My phone starts buzzing, my mom’s picture fills the screen. We’ve been playing phone tag for two weeks. Between season being in full gear and her working nights, we keep missing each other.

“Hey, Mom!”

“My sweet boy, how are you?”

I hate when she gets all sappy on me, mostly because it makes me feel bad that I’m not able to be home more.

In a perfect world I’d get drafted to one of the New York teams—but I wouldn’t complain about being in New Jersey or Philadelphia —so I can see her more.

I get nervous that she is lonely. She dated a little while I was growing up, but I think she was always secretly hoping my dad would get his shit together.

“I’m good, just waiting for Lola to pick me up. She’s getting a new tattoo.” I purposely leave out the fact I’m getting one, too. She hates ink; doesn’t get that everyone has tattoos nowadays. It doesn’t mean I’m going to join a motorcycle gang or whatever her beliefs are.

“You better not come home with one.”

I can’t lie to my mom, so I change the subject. “Are you working tonight?”

I know she’s rolling her eyes but indulges me. “Yeah, I am. I have to go in at eight. I’m going to run to the grocery store when we get off the phone and then take a nap.”

“Sounds like a good Sunday to me.” I joke. Then abruptly ask, “Would you be pissed if an old flame tried to win you back while you had a boyfriend?”

“I guess it would depend on what that ex meant to me.”

This is what I love about the relationship I have with my mom, she is always honest.

“You remember Lola, the girl you met–”

“At Jalen’s draft party, how could I forget her? She’s the only girl I’ve ever seen my son get giddy over.”

I don’t give that last part any attention. Partly because I don’t get giddy, but mostly because if I acknowledge that she’s correct she’ll never let me live it down.

“Well, she is dating Dalton Powell, and we went on a double date last night.” My mom lets out an audible gasp.

I can’t blame her. I never thought I’d be in this situation either.

“I don’t think he’s right for her… before you ask, the girl I went on a date with saw what I did and is helping me win her back. ”

“Well, I never thought I’d hear you say that you were willing to spend time with that piece of shit,” her tone turns feral. “I can’t wait to see the look on his smug parents’ faces when you beat them this season.” The hate for the Powell family runs deep.

“I just really miss her, and I think having to work on this project together has reminded us how well we work together.” I pause for a moment, wanting to get this next part out perfectly.

“I think if we gave things a shot, like if our friends knew that we were seeing each other again, we could make it work.” I pause only to inhale before letting the rest of my ramble free.

“Her brother is a freshman on the team and reminded me that Lola needs to know that she is worth fighting for. I want to show her that I’ll always fight for her. ”

“Well, honey, it sounds like you know what you need to do.”

Why is it so much easier to do what you want when you get your mom’s approval?

“Well, I better get to the store. Have a good day off, Byron. I can’t wait to see you in a few weeks.”

“Bye, Mom, love you.”

“Love you too, sweetie.”

“Did you feel like making me work off last night?”

Lola’s car was already pulled out of the driveway facing the direction we need to go before I got outside.

I place the coffee in the cupholders and hand her the container of chocolate chip cookies. She peels the lid off and grabs a couple before handing the open tin to me.

“Well, if walking down your driveway gets you out of breath, then your coach has failed you,” she mumbles through bites.

I chuckle. This feels just like old times.

“Yeah, but Coach doesn’t control how much I drink. Avery and I might have gone a little too hard at Jasper’s.”

“Thanks for these; you didn’t have to do that,” she pauses, and her voice goes quiet. “How was the rest of your night?”

“It was good. The guys and her friends met us. She is a lot of fun,” I pause.

Watching Lola’s fingers play with the hem of her shirt might make me an ass, but it feels good knowing I can still make her feel something.

When we were sneaking around, girls would come around and flirt, I’d play along just to see the look on Lola’s face across the bar. There was nothing but pure fire behind her eyes. Then, the next time we were alone, gosh, it was something else.

“But we decided it was better just to be friends.”

Her shoulders relax and her posture straightens.

“Well, I’m glad she is sticking around. I like her.” She says casually.

The shop is dark when we pull into one of the dozen empty parking spots.

“Are you sure Cora is here?”

“Yeah, the shop doesn’t open until two on Sundays. They assume that everyone is going to be hungover, but Cora will come in early for her favorite clients,” She lays her chin on top of her hand and tilts her head. “You’re welcome.”

She waits until we are in stride, before she attempts to sling her arm over my shoulder, but because she is my Pipsqueak, she can’t quite reach and her arm is awkwardly splayed around my upper back.

“I don’t think you’ll ever understand how much I enjoy you being fun-sized”

“Fuck you.” She says through gritted teeth.

I hold my hands up in surrender. “You are the one that chose to be friends with athletes.”

I’m shocked that the door to the tattoo shop is unlocked. Lola stomps into the now brightly lit shop throwing a little temper tantrum. Isn’t that cute.

Cora is in the back setting her station up. She must have come in through the back door.

The shop is cool. I normally get my tattoos done when I am at home.

Tattoo artists are one of those people who once you find one you like, you stick with them.

There was one-night last year when Lola and I were cuddling in her bed–I’m a class clown who likes to cuddle; it’s not that shocking- and while I was ghosting my fingertips up and down her arm, I noticed how skillfully done her tattoos were.

“Thanks for letting me tag along, Cora. I’ve been dying to have you tattoo me since Lola told me you did most of her work.”

“Oh, it’s no problem. I love working when there is no one else in the shop.”

When Cora walks to the back of the shop to get some ink, Lola settles in her chair.

“What are you going to get?”

I use my right hand and tap the inside of my left arm, that’s bare. “I’m going to get Westvale’s Riley logo and the year we won the National Championship.”

Lola taps the empty tray next to her seat a few times before turning back to face me. “I like that,” she says simply. Lola hates it when people get frivolous tattoos.

They should all have a story to tell . She told me that night at Jasper’s. People are going to ask, and you’ll look stupid if you say, I just liked it.

That was the moment I knew I had to know more about this girl. She spoke her mind. Most girls just try to impress me by putting on a show. Not Lola, she doesn’t give a shit who likes her. She cares more about being her authentic self.

“Getting a tattoo with no story behind it is dumb, right?”

“Right,” her smile reaches her eyes and she couldn’t look more beautiful.

“So, are we sure we want to put the anchovies on it?”

The tattoo appointment didn’t take as long as we thought it would. So now we are hammering out the rest of our menu.

“Yeah, I think the umami flavor will balance out the olives on top of the tartness,” she scribbles her thoughts down. I’m still so damn proud that she took the hard road and bucked against her parents’ dream for her.

“Well, aren’t we speaking like a professional?”

“Well,” she copies my sarcastic tone. Then she grows serious. “I figured if I pretend for long enough, I’ll start to believe I can actually do this.”

She’s still doubting herself. It kills me that she can’t see how talented she is.

It’s obvious to anyone who takes the time to listen that cooking is her true passion.

She constantly talked about the places she wants to travel to and what kitchens she would die to work in while she is there.

I never pushed, but I did try to leave little hints for her to follow her dreams. We all only get one chance at life and she should do what makes her happy.

Then, one day, it clicked. Like she suddenly remembered, she had been rebellious her whole life.

“How are things with your parents?”

“Umm,” she starts, running her pen up and down her notesheet.

“I don’t need the perfect answer, Lo. It’s me.”

She winces. I know this summer didn’t go as we planned, but I still want to be there for her.

“We haven’t talked much. I guess since I am no longer taking biology classes, we have nothing to talk about.

” Tears start trickling down her cheeks.

I wipe them away, but they start flowing faster than I can wipe them away.

“And now I’ll have to see them all the time because they’ll come to watch their perfect son’s games.

” She takes the collar of her shirt and uses it to wipe her tears.

“Maybe it will take the pressure off the relationship, and you’ll be able to show them who you really are.” I take her hand running my thumb over the top. “I can come with you, you know mom’s love me. It’s true. The baby face and the goofy smile make me a hit with the over-fifty crowd.”

She giggles before dragging her eyes to mine. “You’d do that for me?”

“I’d do just about anything for you Lo.”

She rests her hand on my thigh. I look at her full lips. We’re stuck in this game of chicken when something starts blaring through the speakers we have connected throughout the house.

Pleasure P’s Boyfriend #2.

Lola’s eyes have grown double in size. Once the course starts playing, she breaks out into a fit of laughter. I quickly join in.

“I fucking hate your roommates.” Lola gets out through breaks in her laughter.

“That might be true, but your life would be really boring without us.”

She sits there with a bashful smile, “Yeah, I’m thankful for you guys. Especially you, Byron. I don’t think I would have gotten through this last year without you.”

When she leans over and places a kiss on my cheek, I’m a goner.

“I’ll always be here for you, Pipsqueak.”