Page 78 of Can't Kiss the Chef

“I agree,” he nods with a small smile.

I’m stunned silent when an arm covered in tattoos is draped over my shoulder.

“Hey Coach, I see you’ve met Lola.”

The sip of my dirty Shirley feels like a boulder going down my throat.

“This is Coach Hale?” The elusive Coach Hale. I feel like I’m that idiot that talks Josh Allen’s ear off in line at Starbucks not realizing he is one of the best quarterbacks in football.

All eyes left at the party turn in our direction. I’m loud when I’m sober. I don’t even know what to call it when I’m drunk.

“It is Pips. I’m happy to hear that you miss me during the season,” Byron pats my head in the most condescending way. “But I’ll always make time for you.”

If I was sober I would have told him to fuck off, not everything is about him, but I’m drunk and feeling nostalgic. I’m so lost in Byron’s warm blue eyes that I don’t notice that Jalen has joined the conversation.

“Coach, I can’t believe you’re still here,” Jalen’s voice cuts through my daze.

“Well, it’s not every day you get to celebrate two of the best young people I know, but I think this party is taking a turn I don’t think I belong in.”

I huff out a breath, slightly offended. I glance around the apartment to see that the only people left are our friends. Which means I can drink more without judgment from anyone over the age of forty.

“I’ve heard a lot of great things about you, Mr. Hale. It was nice meeting you.” A hiccup escapes and I rush to cover my mouth with my hand.

“And sorry you got stuck listening to my drunk ramblings.”

“We’ve all been there, Coach, so don’t feel special,” Jalen chimes in.

“Well, I’m offended.” I pretend to storm away, but throw a wink over my shoulder on the way to the bar.

The bar isn’t the place of solitude and reflection I hoped it to be. I have just decided to switch to rum when Indy and Margo have me sandwiched between them.

“I know now is not the time,” Indy says cautiously. “But I care more about you than I care about this party,” She takes my hand and wraps it in both of her’s.

“How are you doing?”

I forget my planned rum and pull out the bottle of Henesy, pouring what’s maybe two and a half shots into a solo cup and down it in one go.

“I held in the tears until I returned his stuff,” I pause. The memories of how Byron tried to make an emotionally exhausting day a little bit better flash through my mind.

“But then Byron bought me pastries and coffee and it reminded me of all the amazing friends I have.”

Even in the four-inch heels I’m wearing, I am still sandwiched between the chests of Indy and Margo.

I fan my face with my hand, trying to keep the tears at bay.

I ditch the next drink I was going to pour myself.

“I think I’m going to get some fresh air.”

I’m not sure they even hear me. They’re too busy pouring shots for Oliver and Marcus. My friends are all in a celebratory mood and I feel guilty I can’t get in one myself.

Jalen and Ivy have this balcony that has the most mind-blowing view. I rest my arms on the railing and lay my chin against it. Dreaming that next year I’ll be in this city and enrolled in culinary school.

Goosebumps flood my skin. On a nearly abandoned balcony he found me.

“What ya thinking about Pipsqueak?”

Heat starts climbing up my neck and flows over my cheeks. For the first time since school started I want him.

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