Page 23 of Can't Kiss the Chef

His eyebrows pinch as he patiently waits for me to answer. I sip my rum and coke, delaying my response.

“Honestly, nothing at the moment.”

Oliver nods, his eyes scan the party before finding his sister who is leaning against the wall talking to Josiah. Lola is laughing at something he said. When she reaches out to wrap her hand around his bicep I involuntarily crush the red solo cup in myhand. My mixed drink splashes over the lip. It’s an accurate representation of how it feels to watch Lola with another guy. Like I’m drowning. Even if he is just a friend.

“Yeah, sure, it’s nothing.”

“She really never talked about me?” I ask, sounding a lot more hurt than I’d like to.

“I had a feeling. You know Lola doesn’t open up that easily.” He looks over at his sister. “All I know is that she came home from the draft party last year, and she was happy. She seemed lighter, telling us how she is looking forward to this school year even though our parents were harassing her every day about her major change. Then that happiness just seemed to vanish.”

“She stopped texting me.” My tone is defensive.

“So something did happen,” he says, and I want to smack the knowing smirk off his face. “Since I like you, I’m going to let you in on a little secret. My sister pushes people away before they can hurt her. I think she likes to see who will fight her.”

“What do you mean?”

“I love my sister, but she’d be the first one to tell you that she is the black sheep of our family.”

One look at her and Oliver tonight and that’s evident. He’s in khakis and a white button down rolled up to his elbows. His dark brown hair is parted perfectly and gelled to perfection. Lola is flaunting her tattoos, almost begging people to ask her about them. Her heels are so high I’m not sure how she manages to walk in them.

“I love our parents, but I don’t think they’ve ever fully taken the time to understand Lola. Penny was the picture-perfect first born. She was never late for curfew. Her room was always spotless. She followed the path my parents laid out for her, wanting what they wanted for her.” He takes a deep breath and nods his head over to Lola, who is now playing beer pong with Margo.

“Lola never wanted anything to do with the medical field, but she chose to go the pre-vet route to please my parents. I was so proud of her when she stuck up for herself and changed her major.”

“She was really nervous to talk to them. She told me that it was the first time she properly stood up for herself, not just rocking the boat for the sake of it.”

“She cared for you, Byron. I wasn’t sure if it was you until tonight, but I knew there was someone. She tested you, wanted to make sure you would fight her the way she wished one of my parents would have fought for her and you failed.”

Oliver finishes the rest of his drink before letting out a burp loud enough to shake the house. He wipes his hand over his mouth before finding the other freshman. Not a care in the world. I feel like a complete failure.

I grab two beers from the fridge, ignoring the call of name by my teammates and girls alike, and head to my room.

I let Mia out of her crate and lay on my bed, clicking through the channels until I find one of my favorite cooking competition shows. I open one of the beers and take a long pull while Mia jumps on the bed. She settles on my lap, tilting her head, silently judging me.

“I know, girl, I fucked up.”

10

Byron

One of the greatest joys of my class schedule this semester is that my first class on Mondays isn’t until two in the afternoon. It gives me plenty of time to work out, go over some new offensive concepts with Coach Stevens that he wanted my opinion on, and bake some brownies from scratch before I have to go to my class with Lola.

After feeling highly judged by my dog for leaving my own pre-game early, I decided that I need to repair my relationship with Lola. I miss her. I already knew that I did but when Oliver spelled it out I just felt like an idiot.

I’m sampling the brownies when Aaron strolls into the kitchen and snatches one out of the pan.

“These aren’t for the house,” I tell him before I slap the baked good out of his hand. If you’ve ever lived with three Division l athletes, you know that they are a bunch of wild animals, and it’s impossible to keep food in the house.

With the bite he was able to take stuffed in his mouth, Aaron asks, “If they aren’t for the house, who are they for?”

“Umm–” I take off my baseball hat and shake my hair out before putting it on backward. “Lola,” I tell him a little sheepishly.

“Hmm, interesting.”

“What?”

“I wondered how long it would take you to come to your senses.”

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