Page 22 of Can't Kiss the Chef

Indy chuckles and throws her arm around my shoulder. “Come on, Lola, it’s a right of passage to pass out drunk at a pre-game. It’s just something to cross off the college bucket list.”

I roll my eyes. I don’t want to admit it, but there might be a picture out there of me with some drool dribbling down my chin.

The freshmen are the first through the door, and their teammates erupt in a cheer for them as they enter the house. I stride in right after, wearing my faux confidence like a protective shield.

My brother is somehow already throwing back a shot. I’m about to ask him if he thinks that’s a good idea when my eyes are pulled across the room. It’s like Byron and I have some kind of magnetic pull toward each other. Even when he’s cuddled up on the couch with a leggy blonde.

My heart sinks, and even though I want to look away, I can’t. I watch his hand travel under the hem of her shirt. I guess I am a glutton for torture.

9

Byron

I didn’t think she would come.

My hands are two-thirds of the way up the blonde girl’s shirt. I can’t for the life of me remember her name. I met her this morning at The Riley Center, she was hot so I asked her to come. She came and that’s how we ended up in this predicament. Yes, it’s a little aggressive for ten o’clock pre-bar.

The moment my eyes were pulled across the room it was over. Lola ignites a gravitational pull that is so overpowering I ditch the blonde on my couch, telling her I need to check on Mia. When in reality I just need to see Lola.

She looks absolutely stunning. For the first time since the school year started, she seems relaxed. More like the girl I got toknow during a dance at Jasper’s. We bonded over bets we made on how long we thought Jalen and Ivy’s relationship would last– in our defense, the first few weeks of their relationship were dysfunctional– but luckily, we were both wrong.

Julia–at least I think that is her name–reaches for my arm when she realizes I’m not walking towards my room. She huffs out something about how I’ll regret this. But she’s wrong. I’d regret not talking to Lola.

It’s not really a party at the house. More like a pre-bar get together that we planned for team bonding. Okay, it’s a sausage fest.

There’s a poker game going on around our large oak kitchen table. A Madden tournament in the den. I ignore our goalie Eric’s plea for a beer pong partner. Walking past everything I should be focused on if I want to be named captain this year.

I find her standing in the kitchen with her brother.

“Hey, Lola,” I say, casually. I rifle through a kitchen drawer pretending that’s the reason I came in here. It’s not until I pull out a lighter that I allow myself to really look at her. She’s dressed to kill and I might be her first victim. My heart races as my eyes drag down her body.

Her eyes narrow. I keep mine locked on hers. We are in a standoff, neither of us wanting to make the first move. I flick open the lighter and watch the red-orange flame flicker before the sound of someone smacking gum draws my attention.

Lola’s jaw moves in time with a rap song that Marcus added to the playlist we created for the nights we have people over. I force the smile away. It’s one that threatens to ruin our staring contest. If Lola is chewing gum, she’s nervous. If Lola is nervous maybe that means she hasn’t totally written me off.

I’m ripped back to reality by the sound of someone clearing their throat.

“Hey, Oliver. How was your first week of classes?” I ask, regretting the fact that I have to take my eyes off his sister.

I nod along to whatever Oliver is saying but I’ve already been pulled back into Lola’s orbit. Her smile grows as Oliver talks about how he is settling into college life.

Lola jumps into the conversation asking him questions as I try to figure out how to wiggle my way back in. The party going on around us fades into faint mumbles. Suddenly it feels like it’s just the three of us in the room.

I take the Yankee cap I’m wearing off and run my hands through my shaggy blonde hair before putting my hat back on, facing backward this time.

“Are you ready to start the player-led meetings next week?”

“That’s my cue to leave,” Lola informs us. Before she goes, she grabs two light beers from the fridge and hands one to Oliver before opening one up for herself.

“Don’t get too drunk tonight. My days of babysitting drunk hockey players are over.”

She looks in my direction, and I give her a wink. I swear there was a playful smirk on her lips before they turned down. She snaps back into character before anyone can see her playful side playing up her eye roll.

Her swaying hips hypnotize me. Only being jolted back to reality when an elbow lands in my ribs.

“What’s going on with you and my sister?”

“Huh–” I look over at Oliver.

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