20. Lottie
twenty
Lottie
Some days require copious amounts of Diet Coke!
I chug from my freshly popped can and gaze around the dining room table as the air keeps getting thicker.
I tried my best to go to the game, but my mom had already planned this kiss-up-to-billionaires dinner.
Now my phone is face down on my thigh, buzzing softly with game updates, and I’m doing my best to hide it from my mom.
Mom cooked chicken herself instead of letting the usual caterer handle it. That alone tells me how badly she wants tonight to go right. The table is set with the nice plates again. Actually, every time we eat in the formal dining room, those are the only plates we use.
Across from me, Beau Tucker, an oil tycoon billionaire, grins politely.
He’s next to another billionaire, Trey Michaels, who made his name in tech.
I’ve met them before at fundraisers. Of course, I was trotted out to shake hands.
This rubbing-elbows thing isn’t new. What’s new is the way their attention keeps sliding back to me, like I’ve got mashed potatoes smeared in my hair.
“So,” Trey says while cutting into his chicken, “I heard on the news you’re dating someone. Congratulations. It sounds like it must be getting serious.”
My stomach sinks straight to the flower flip-flops my mom didn’t notice I snuck in with.
She hates open-toed shoes. I hate any kind of shoes in July.
It’s a month meant to be barefoot, in my humble opinion anyway.
I lift my fork and take a bite, which I don’t taste—or maybe I do taste it, but it’s mostly just cardboard flavor.
After chewing for a ridiculous amount of time, I mutter, “So I guess I am.”
Mom’s smile is sharp as she kicks me under the table and then speaks for me. “Very serious.”
My phone buzzes again. I sneak a glance while casually lifting my Diet Coke to my mouth. I’ve got lots of practice angling the screen just enough to catch it. The arena lights explode in blue and white, and the crowd blurs as the camera scans all the fans before zooming in on the guys skating out.
My heart stutters as I squint and zero in on Ty. I’ve never been one to ogle hockey players, or really any guy, but why have I never noticed before how handsome Tyson looks when he’s in his jersey and pads?
“Who’s the lucky guy?” Beau asks, interrupting my game sneaking.
I look up from my phone too late. Everyone is watching me. “Oh, my boyfriend, um,” I drag in a breath and swallow. “He works at a museum. The Smithsonian.”
I catch Mom’s jaw tighten as she takes her water glass and sips from it.
“Oh?” Trey adjusts in his seat, sitting more upright as he finally cuts into his chicken. Eating is a good sign. That means he can’t ask me more questions. “I’ve always been a huge fan of the Smithsonian. Is he one of the curators?”
Wrong.
Apparently, he can eat and be nosy.
I take another sip of my Diet Coke to buy some time.
My phone vibrates again, and I slide my leg back, pressing it against the chair, doing my best to trap it so no one can see it.
I wish so badly I could see why it updated.
“Um,” I say. “I should know what his position at the museum is … but, hmm. He might be a curator. That sounds smart, and he’s very smart. ”
Mom exhales loudly. “They met through mutual connections,” she adds quickly. “Lottie isn’t one to spend too much time at museums. She doesn’t understand the organizational structure.”
My brows pinch together as I glare at my mom. She’s making me sound stupid. Sure, it’s my oversight that I didn’t get Bodan’s exact job title. In my defense, I have only hung out with him two times. Both times she was breathing down my neck.
“What’s he like?” Beau leans over the table, still grinning. “Personality-wise.”
“Well, he’s smart since he works at the museum.” I stir my potatoes with my fork. Not because they need it. It’s just nice to have something to do with my hands. “He’s busy, and he’s very handsome.”
“I think the handsome part is mostly keeping her preoccupied,” Mom says with a chuckle, and everyone laughs. I shouldn’t risk it, but I steal another glance at my phone. Tyson’s skating fast, his jersey clinging to him, and he looks so good my eyes practically pop out of my head.
Why didn’t I start watching hockey earlier?
My cheeks ache from the effort of not smiling.
“Are you going to try long-distance dating?” Trey asks, keeping the conversation going. I’m starting to resent that nobody has anything else to talk about.
“No,” I say too fast. Then I slow myself down.
“We shouldn’t have to do distance. He lives here, so while the Senate is in session, we’ll be together, but even when Mom’s not in session, our family has been spending more and more time in DC.
I’m not sure we’ll head back to Mapleton.
I guess there’s really no reason for me to.
It’s a little too soon to think that far. We’ll figure things out.”
Mom’s hand lands lightly on my wrist. It’s clearly a warning disguised as affection. “Lottie’s been balancing her new relationship with work so well. Bodan is a joy to have around.”
I smile a toothy grin, even though the only thing I’m managing is not tilting my phone so the whole table sees exactly what I’m watching.
The questions keep coming. Where did we meet? What do I like most about him? And on and on. I answer with borrowed details, trying my hardest not to flat-out lie. My knee bounces when I can faintly see Tyson score a goal. At that point, I have to cough to cover my excitement.
Finally, Dad changes the conversation to talk about crypto investing, and I slink down into my chair and wait for everyone to finish their food.
By the time chairs scrape back on the marble floor, it feels like this dinner has taken an eternity.
Everyone is polite as Mom escorts them to the door.
She’s laughing in that polished way she reserves for people she considers important.
The second I’m dismissed, I bolt upstairs.
Relieved to be free, oxygen fills my lungs all the way. Rushing to my room, I flop on my bed and pull out my phone, turning up the volume. The game is almost over. It’s third period, and people are booing.
The Stripes pull their goalie, and my eyes glue to the screen. The puck is in play, and the guys spar pretty hard until someone on Ty’s team makes a shot that goes right into the empty net, bringing the lead up to 4-1.
“Since when do you watch hockey?” Ham’s voice cuts through the air.
Startling, I jerk my head back and nearly drop the phone. Ham leans in my doorway with his arms crossed and a smug expression on his face.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I slide my phone behind my back.
“You think I don’t recognize what you’re doing?" He gives a quiet laugh. “The real question is, why the sudden interest? Is this payback for Mom making you fake date to cover for her hockey blunder?”
“I seriously have no idea what you are talking about. I wasn’t watching hockey. I was reviewing notes.” I smash my phone screen down on my comforter. “I want to make sure I don’t forget anything when I introduce Mom for her big speech next week.”
“You’re a terrible liar.” He slowly shakes his head. “Now, tell me why you all of a sudden care about hockey, and I won’t tell Mom you were watching it all through dinner.”
I straighten, letting my eyes drift around the room.
Ham and I aren’t exactly close, but we get along.
I could come up with some lame excuse, but the truth is, as Tyson’s close friend, Ham’s in a position to help me.
Maybe I’ll regret it, but I take a risk.
“So, the other day, you and Ty were talking about me, and I heard everything he said through his butt dial.”
His brows bend down as if he’s remembering. “Wait. What did you hear?”
“All of it,” I add quietly. “About how he thinks about me, and…the truth is, I can’t stop thinking about him, and it’s been like this for a while.
Maybe we are both infected with some thinking disease.
I also can’t stop looking at him. I mean, have you ever really watched him play hockey before? He’s HOT!”
“Seriously, Lottie.” He makes a gagging noise as he turns his back to me for a second and pretends to be ill. “He’s my best friend. You’re my sister. Why is this getting weird?”
“I didn’t do anything to make it weird.” My hand flies forward in a gesture that mirrors the desperation that’s budding in my chest. I never asked for things to be this complicated, and I’m at such a loss of how to fix it.
He studies me for a long second before he sighs.
“You know Ty really well. I mean, you probably know him almost as well as I do. I hope you aren’t just curious because he’s getting a lot of attention now with the tournament and you’re bored, because what I saw in his face when he confessed that all to me is he really cares about you. ”
“I heard it too in his voice.”
He peers out into the hall, making sure the coast is clear before looking back at me. “If you’re serious about liking him, then stop pretending you don’t want it. He’s a good guy, but he’s not one to play games with. He won’t handle you leading him on and then ghosting him.”
“I’m not going to lead him on,” I hesitate, “but are you forgetting I’m not supposed to date hockey players? And I have a new fake boyfriend the whole world is fascinated with?”
He lifts one shoulder. “Since when has Mom forbidding you from doing something ever stopped you?”
It’s my turn to shrug. I’m not rebellious.
“Just—” he adds, softer now. “Look, I’m headed back to my place for the night, and I don’t care to get in your business.
This whole thing is cringe to me. I can’t tell you what to do, but I know he has feelings for you—and they are genuine.
You two need to talk before this fake-dating mess gets any worse, and before someone else decides your life for you. ”
I swallow hard because he has some good points. As he turns on his heel to leave, my heart races. My gaze snags on my phone.
Should I call him tonight?
That sends a rock to the pit of my gut.
I wish I knew what to do.