Strawberries Taste How Lips Do

My alarm went off the next morning and I just laid in bed for as long as my second alarm would allow. I dragged myself into the kitchen, put enough water in the coffee pot for both Lola and I to take our thermoses to work, and grabbed a bowl for cereal. Lola joined shortly after, all sleepy grumbles and bed-head and grabbed an apple out of our fruit bowl.

“Good morning, sunshine,” I said, biting back a giggle as Lola shot me a death glare.

“No,” she huffed, taking a bite out of her apple. I smiled despite her grumbling, starting the coffee before grabbing the cereal out of the cabinet.

“Still up for girl’s night tonight?” I asked, putting the cereal back into the cabinet.

“Hell fuckin’ yeah,” Lola said, suddenly very awake. “Berlin on Belmont?

We both had frequented Berlin right after we were able to use our real ID’s to get into clubs. Lola was very big on dancing with anyone who cared, but our girl’s nights had never been about picking up. We would dance with the guys we wanted, but leave them all when one of our songs would come on.

I hummed my approval through a bite of cereal. “Think blowjob shots are a dollar tonight,” I joked.

Lola groaned. “Never. Again.”

I snickered into my cereal, taking the last few bites as the coffee pot groaned to life. I put my bowl into the sink and headed to get ready for work. Luckily, the University didn’t have anymore recruitment fairs this week, so all I had to do was finalize some details on an event with the planning agency I worked for. Quick trip to the office, and then my weekend really started.

“Teal dress or floral dress?” I called out loud enough for Lola to hear me.

A pause. “The high necked floral one?” she responded.

“Yeah.”

“Teal,” she confirmed. “Orange earring and necklace set.”

“Christmas from your parents or re-gift from your ex?”

“Ooh. Re-gift. Chad always did have good taste in jewelry.”

This tended to be our everyday. Lola was always my go-to for confirmation that I wasn’t leaving the apartment looking like a hot mess. I provided the coffee. It was a good system.

I got dressed, threw my hair into a messy side braid, slipped on my TOMs booties and headed back to the kitchen.

“Perfect,” Lola smiled. “Nude lipstick.”

“Yeah, yeah,” I joked. “If I ditch the grey cardigan, I can wear this tonight right?”

“Girl, please,” was Lola’s response as she headed to her own room, and that was all the confirmation I needed.

I doctored my coffee how I wanted it after I poured it into my thermos, shouted a goodbye to Lola and made my way to the office.

I was lucky enough to find a job pretty close to where Lola and I had already lived when we got our apartment senior year of college. It was about a fifteen minute commute, but the faster I got in, the faster I could start my weekend and have a little fun.

I made my way to my desk, and I was just starting to pour my coffee into the mug I keep on my desk when the event director, Sarah, walked up.

“You’re the resident hockey nerd,” she said, leaning against my door, piece of paper in her hand.

“You’re not wrong,” I answered, taking a sip from my mug. She smiled, stepping forward and handing me the paper in her hand.

“The Rockford Icehogs are hosting a benefit of some sort and hired us for the reception,” she explained, motioning to the paper. “I figured I’d give this one to you, since you’re probably a little more equipped for it.”

I read over it, taking note of all of the elements they wanted present and told Sarah I’d get my team on it. A quick google search of the Icehogs confirmed my initial thought: they were the minor league team for the Blackhawks. The fundraiser itself was pretty straightforward. Black-tie, worn-jersey auctions, and even some invites extended to former Icehogs players, who were encouraged to donate their own items to be auctioned off.

A few hours later when I was taking my lunch, I shot a quick text to Andrew.

“Hypothetically, if I was in charge of a fundraising event for the Icehogs, what should I avoid?”

I was about halfway through my lunch when his response came in.

“Depends.” he wrote. Another one buzzed in right after. “Which event?”

“Some kind of black-tie auction. You’re on the guest list.” I wrote back.

“Ooooh. I think I know what you’re talking about. Jersey auctions and stuff??” he responded. He might be more help than I thought.

“That’s the one. Any tips?”

“Haha. Not something to avoid, but two words. Photo. Booth.” he sent back. I wrote it down on a post it. A second one buzzed in shortly after. “No open bar. Especially if it’s a fundraiser. Maybe make the tip jars go to the benefit??”

“Noted. Thanks :)” I sent back.

He sent back a hair-flip emoji and a peace sign, shortly followed by, “How are you?”

We chatted back and forth before my lunch break was up and I had to go. Conversation with him was insanely easy. It was as if we had been friends for a while instead of having randomly met on a freak incident in a hotel in Pittsburgh.

I sat my phone back on my desk as one of my work-friends, Annie, came in, pulling her own rolling chair in tow.

“Did Sarah put you on the Icehogs fundraiser?” Annie asked, stealing a piece of chocolate out of my drawer. Annie was one of my only friends at work that understood hockey just as much as I did, so I figured she’d be in on this assignment too.

“Mhmm. Just spitballing some ideas right now,” I responded, pointing at my post-its before my phone buzzed again. Andy’s contact name flashed -- inconspicuous emoji’s and all -- and Annie’s eyes widened.

She raised an eyebrow, looking at where my phone peeked out from under my leg, but let it go.

Between finalizing the details for the other event we were teamed up on and beginning the planning on the Icehogs event, we got lost in what we were doing. We only ended up realizing what time it was when Sarah ducked in, telling us to have a good weekend.

As I was packing my things back into my bag, my phone buzzed, and Andy’s contact name showed up again. I put it face down until Annie left my cubicle, but as soon as my bag was packed and I was on my way out, I swiped it open, fumbling with my password twice.

The one from earlier was just a “talk soon” from our conversation at lunch, but the other one was so cute and I’m glad I waited until Annie left, otherwise my smile would’ve prompted so many questions.

“So I’m not busy with that hockey thing until Thursday and there’s this ice cream shop that just opened in Roscoe Village if you wanna get dinner and check it out?”

I giggled a little before screenshotting it and sending it to Lola, then sent back “Sounds great. Tuesday work for you?”

His response came in as I was waiting on the platform for my next train, just a straightforward “Pick you up at 7 :)”. Suddenly, the commute seemed a little more bearable.

I usually wound up getting home before Lola, but since Annie and I lost track of time, she beat me to it and handed me a mimosa as I walked into the kitchen.

“Lola, this is early, even for us,” I said, shaking my head before taking a sip. She did make good mimosas, even if I didn’t usually like orange juice.

“It’s five o’clock somewhere,” she said, clinking her glass to mine before looking at the stove clock. “And that somewhere was here about an hour ago.”

“Touche.”

“Now about that screencap,” Lola pried, and we took our usual seats at the island.

“What about it,” I said lightly, sipping my mimosa.

“When are you going? Where are you going for dinner? Can I come with?” she shot off.

“Tuesday, no idea, and absolutely not.” I fired back just as quickly.

“Follow up question,” she said, after a second. I quirked my eyebrow at her. “Can he get me Brendan Gallagher’s number.”

“If you want it so bad, ask Andrew yourself,” I quipped, knowing she would detest the idea. Behind closed doors, Lola is all action, but when it comes to face-to-face, you’re lucky if she even gives her own coffee order to the barista.

“Nevermind!”

We finished up our drinks and altered our outfits just enough to be less work and more play. I switched my grey cardigan out for my leather jacket, and my toms for my black pumps, and then Lola and I were on our way.

Lola caught me up on her day -- “and I swear! This guy just kept coming over to my station and I’m just like, I promise you, only one deep tissue massage is in your rehab program, dude.” -- as we walked toward our bus stop.

“Oh my god, I forgot to tell you,” I said, shoving her arm after she was done. “My next event is for the IceHogs.”

“As in the baby Blackhawks? As in your future boyfriend’s alma mater?” Lola squeaked. I could feel my face get red.

“We’ve been on one date,” I mumbled, trying not to smile.

“And you’re going on another one. Which makes that two dates closer to official than anything I’ve seen in your neck of the woods recently, missy.” Lola quipped, poking me on the shoulder.

“But yeah, it’s some type of benefit. Andrew told me there should be a photo booth,” I supplied. Lola just looked at me. I shrugged. “I asked him for what not to do. Lord knows the players have been paraded around to every type of event. I want to make it fun.”

“And he told you to get a photo booth,” she stated, raising her eyebrows.

I nodded. “And to not have an open bar.”

We stopped for a quick bite at Blaze Pizza right across the street before heading in. It had been almost a year since we had come to Berlin. Between our busy schedules and the University sending me everywhere, we never really had a Friday to ourselves. I found us two seats at the bar and we sat and ordered our drinks. Usually, I just let Lola order for me, since we have almost the same tastes, and as if she read my mind, two mojitos -- extra lime wedge for me -- appeared on the bar.

“To finally having a girl’s night,” I toasted. We clinked glasses before wrapping our arms around each other newly-wed style and taking a sip.

“To having a hotshot NHL boyfriend,” Lola said, leaning into me and pitching her voice so only I could hear. I giggled despite my red face and playfully shoved her away.

“What does your sister always say? It didn’t happen if you didn’t snap it?” I prodded, pulling my phone out of my handbag. Lola took a big sip of her drink and nodded before setting it on the bar and pulling hers out. We snapped a few selfies and threw them on our snapchat stories. We took an especially cute one of us holding our drinks -- Lola with her signature selfie smile, me laughing at her -- and I saved it.

Before Lola could have the chance to get on me for it, I sent it to Andrew with the caption “Happy Friday! Lola might make sure I don’t make it to Saturday.”

I tucked my phone back in my back before slinging it over my shoulder and taking another drink.

“May I have this dance, Lorelai?” I asked, holding my free hand out to her. She feigned flattery before taking my hand and her drink as I pulled us to the dance floor.

Honestly, we both couldn’t tell you what was playing through the speakers, but it was enough to get us moving and to feel the bass in our chests, so we were feeling it. We danced around as well as we could -- which is a gongshow on a good day -- and let everything from the week just wash away.

Around the third song, Lola had a guy dancing with her, and I could feel someone behind me. I was having so much fun watching Lola act a fool with this guy that I barely even jumped when whoever was behind me put a hand on my waist.

I took a deep breath and gently nudged their hand away, but it wouldn’t budge, so I turned around to face them. He was probably a five or six inches taller than me, dark hair and glazed over eyes. It was only 8:30 and this guy was loaded, and honestly, a little intimidating. I pushed past him, making my way to the bar, throwing a ‘code red’ look over my shoulder at Lola on the way.

She didn’t see me.

He didn’t let up.

I took a seat at the bar and he filled the one right next to it.

“What are you drinking, beautiful?” He slurred, leaning into my space. I inched as far away as I could without having to move over a seat.

“It was a mojito,” I said, trying to shake the wobble out of my voice. “But I’m done for the night.”

“Let me buy you another,” he insisted.

“No, thank you,” I responded. He didn’t like that.

“Two of whatever she’s having,” he said to the bartender. The bartender gave me a look and I gave a short shake of my head. He wordlessly filled a glass with water and handed it to me.

“I said no,” I responded, more definite this time, twirling the remaining mint leaves in my glass around with my straw.

“Just take a fucking compliment and let me buy you a drink, bitch,” he spat. I immediately stood up, tossing my glass of water in his face.

“What the fuck!” He shouted, coming towards me. In an attempt to back away, I tripped over a bar stool and fell to the ground. Above me, someone was dragging the man away and pinned him to one of the support pillars. Around the time that I threw my drink at him, Lola caught wind of the commotion and shoved her way through the crowd and helped me to my feet.

“Maybe the drink to the face wasn’t clear enough to you,” said the guy who pinned him. Bouncers were already making their way over to take care of all of this. “Get out of her face, dickwad.”

After he was out, the guy who helped came over to where Lola and I were sitting at the bar. I was still actively avoiding eye contact with everyone. That guy really managed to creep me out.

“Hey,” he said softly. “Are you alright?”

“Oh my god,” Lola whispered, nudging me. “Max.”

I looked up from my new glass of water and -- holy shit.

“You’re Jeremy Morin,” I managed. He smiled a little sheepishly.

“How do you even know that?” he said, laughing lightly.

“She’s pretty familiar with the Hawks,” Lola hinted, raising her eyebrows before sipping her own glass of water. Strangely, my foot connected with her shin for a brief moment. Huh. Weird.

“Oh?” Jeremy questioned, his own eyebrow quirking in response.

“I’m a fan, you’re not a nobody, I dig hockey. Simple as that,” I shrugged, feeling a little more at ease.

“I’m not a nobody,” he repeated, laughing a little. “Well I’m glad you think so.”

“Ego booster extraordinaire, at your service,” I joked. “I’m Max, and this starstruck piece of trash is Lola. Thanks for being my knight in shining armour.”

“No knight needed, you were holding your own pretty well,” he admitted. “Just lost your footing at the end there. Like, I’d say nice to meet you, but considering the circumstances,” he said, tensing up a bit. “That guy was a prick.”

“For real,” Lola and I said in unision.

“Wait,” Jeremy said, eyebrows knit together. “You said your name was Max?”

I tilted my head, shifting my glass of water where it sat on the bar. “Yeah? Why?”

He shook his head, smile on his face. “Just a really pretty name, is all.”

I smiled, hiding my probably pink cheeks behind a sip of my water. “Thanks.”

“Anyway, I’ve gotta get going. Maybe I’ll see you around? In less hostile situations, hopefully.” Jeremy said, tossing a twenty onto the bar to settle his tab.

“Chicago’s a big city,” I smirked, raising my glass to him. “But maybe.”

He smiled and waved as he made his way out. I turned to Lola who still looked like she saw a ghost.

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard you this quiet, Lo,” I laughed, nudging her shoulder with mine.

“Fuck off,” she shot back, laughing. “How did you just. That was a professional hockey player. You went on a date with one of those. How do you-- what??”

I shrugged. “Literally, I have no idea.”

We both finished our glasses of water, made sure our tab was settled and made our way home. About halfway home, my phone buzzed in my handbag.

It was a response from Andrew to the selfie I sent him. He sent back one of his own. He was sticking his tongue out and a small white dog curled on his chest with a beer nestled next to it. It was so cute I could barely process reading the caption.

Andy: “Bails and I aren’t as cute as you (+ lola?? But mostly you), but at least we’ll live to see Saturday.”

I smiled and thought of what to send back

“Gonna tell him about Jeremy coming to your rescue?” Lola asked through a yawn. I shrugged.

“I dunno,” I sighed. “It seemed like he’d heard of me, didn’t it?”

“Well, if Shawzy isn’t already bragging about you, then he’s not doing this right,” Lola countered. I nudged her, feigning irritation and she ate it up with a laugh.

“Lived to tell the tale. I fought through it for the promise of ice cream on Tuesday :)” I sent back.

“There were tales to live through then?” He came back with.

“Hah. Always are with this one. If you meet her, she’ll bring those out instead of baby pictures.”

“But baby pictures are half the fun!”

After a while longer, and some easy texts exchanged between Andrew and I, we made our way off of the bus and up to our apartment.

“I’ve never been more thankful for pajamas, to be honest,” Lola shouted from her room before emerging in her favorite pj bottoms and a big t-shirt. I dug my tweety bird pj’s from my yet-to-be emptied suitcase from Thursday and tugged them on.

“Preach,” I shouted back, pulling a sleep shirt over my head, leaving my dress on the already messy surface of my bedroom floor.

The rest of the night was spent with chick-flicks and chocolate covered popcorn in Lola’s room, as it always is. And as always, both of our phones had to be deposited on the nightstand.

“Girl’s night rules are going into effect. I’ll talk to you soon. Have a good night :)”

“Ngl, that sounds slightly terrifying haha. Night, Max :)”

As always, Lola fell asleep with the popcorn curled in her arms just as Allie and Noah were kissing in the rain. I shook my head, moving the bowl from her arms to her nightstand and tucked her comforter around her.

“Night, Lo,” I muttered, quietly making my way out. She hummed what I’m assuming was a good night, and as soon as I made my way back to my room and into my bed, I was out like a light.