Page 15 of Homecoming

“Fuck off,” he muttered. “Meet you down in the bar in a few.”

Ten minutes later, I found Kevin sitting at the bar with a glass in front of him.

“Seems you didn’t even make it to your room,” I teased, tilting my head to his glass.

“I did, but only to throw my bags in, and make sure everything was ready for tomorrow.”

“What will it be?” the bartender appeared, ready to take my order.

Without thinking, I said, “Bourbon.”

As the waiter busied himself serving my drink, I glanced at Kevin only to see him staring at me. “What?”

“You know what. Bourbon? You only drink hard stuff when something is fucking with your head. Do I dare to ask?”

“It’s Lola,” I sighed.

A look of concern flittered over his face before he masked it and waited silently for me to continue.

“I just… I don’t know. Seeing her again, it rattled something in me. I can’t explain it.”

“You want to fuck her,” Kevin deadpanned.

“It’s not like that,” I waved him off even though I just paced my room like a teenage girl waiting for her crush to text her.

“Bullshit, but okay, I’ll play along.” He reached out and took a sip of his drink, before he slowly put the glass back down, watching it while he did it. Without looking at me, he asked, “Who’s she to you?”

“She’s someone from my past.” I looked straight ahead, seeing myself in the mirror that was behind a bar. If anyone saw me now, they wouldn’t recognize me. This shit was really messing with me.

“She was important,” he deduced.

“Man, she was the only thing that mattered back then,” I admitted the truth quietly. The only problem was, the fact I was struggling with, she was becoming the same now. It didn’t matter that we didn’t know each other anymore, that we hadn’t spoken. The fact that I knew she was somewhere close, and there was a possibility I could see her was the only thing that mattered. For the last three weeks, my body buzzed when I was on the track. But it wasn’t from the anticipation or the excitement of a race. It was because, at any given moment, I could see her. She could walk up to me.

I could talk to her.

Touch her.

Kiss her.

“Ah, so she’s an old girlfriend, a childhood crush.”

“Get your mind out of the gutter, she’s three years younger than me. She was only thirteen when I left.”

“Still, she’s gorgeous now, that had to show itself even then,” Kevin kept at me.

“You think she’s gorgeous?”

“Wouldn’t kick her out of my bed,” he said matter-of-factly, but all I saw was red.

“You do not get to come near her,” I seethed.

“Why?”

“Because, she’s Lola.” It was reason enough in my book.

“And you want to fuck her,” he said, coming back full circle.

“Yes.” I shook my head. “No.”