Page 62 of Can't Kiss the Chef

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”

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