Page 61 of Can't Kiss the Chef

“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.

22

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 splitit 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.”

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