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The mention of vodka made Lola’s stomach flip as she suddenly remembered the booze-soaked day that had led her here.

Their first meeting, sizzling with chemistry.

The article, brimming with cruelty.

The fallout online, which she’d never recover from.

The series of phone calls from her team as they abandoned her.

Justin, breaking her heart and then walking out the door.

Aly had been the source of all of it. Aly, who had just pulled a piece of glass from Lola’s foot. Whose brow Lola had just thought about petting. Whose skin was glowing in the fading afternoon light. Who, underneath that white T-shirt, was wearing a high-cut one-piece bathing suit that felt burned into Lola’s mind.

It was awfully confusing to hate someone so hot.

And she did hate her, she reminded herself. Or at least she’d been devastated by her. Wasn’t that one and the same? Or was it something closer to absolute vulnerability?

Before she could think twice, Lola reeled back. “You ruined my fucking life.”

Aly held Lola’s gaze with her chin slightly raised, as though she was ready to take whatever Lola was about to dole out.

“Well?” Lola said, her voice sharp. “You can’t seem to shut the fuck up about how basic I am when you can hide behind your screen, but in person, you have nothing to say to me?”

Aly considered her for a beat, her face thoughtful. “Has no one ever criticized you before?”

Lola scoffed. “Of course they have.”

This was a lie, and she realized it as soon as the words left her mouth. Lola had spent her whole life trying to be so inoffensive that she was literally offensive to no one. No one ever had anything bad to say about her because she didn’t give them any reason to. She’d contorted herself into various pleasing shapes for as long as she could remember—just as Aly had written.

The fact that Lola agreed only infuriated her more.

“I’m sorry you were hurt by it. I was just doing my job.” Aly’s voice was maddeningly even, almost patronizing in her refusal to rise to Lola’s bait.

“Was it your job to ruin my life?”

“It was my job to report on what I observed. What my research told me. What my gut was saying.”

“What would get the most attention,” Lola added, and then something clicked. She grinned somewhat manically. “You know, what we do is not so different. You’re over there on your high horse about writing the truth, but therealtruth? You took me down so you could have a viral headline.”

“Oh, please!” Aly said, visibly bristling. “You think how well my stories perform impacts me at all? I get paid a flat rate. Do you even know how journalism works?”

“Ugh, spare me.”

“Lola, your shit hit the fan before I wrote the article,” Aly pointed out. “I was reporting on what already happened. You put your own foot in your mouth.”

“And you made it so much worse. Youusedme to critique my entire industry.”

“Don’t you think the industry needed critiquing? You can’t tell me you think influencing is still exciting at this point. When fashion bloggers first came on the scene, it was so cool. They were democratizing fashion. They took something exclusionary and made it their own. But now? All those same girls have just turned themselves into advertising platforms.”

“I’m aperson,” Lola whispered. “I’m not a representative of a problem or an angle for a story.”

Aly paused, her head tilting at Lola’s words. The truth was that Lola was not ready to have this conversation with Aly. It would mean cutting open parts of herself that she wasn’t prepared to touch. But anger, anger she could do. And Lola leaned into it, letting that burning in her stomach take over, pushing back all the other shit to those dark corners where she wanted them to stay.

Lola took a breath, letting her words land heavily. “You were mean and spiteful, and I wish I never agreed to meet you.”

“I’m sorry you feel like that,” Aly said, and Lola stiffened at her word choice. NotI’m sorry for what I did.NotI’m sorry for what I caused.God forbid she take responsibility. “I hope you won’t let it ruin your summer,” Aly added. “I’m sure you and Jason will still have a lovely time at Giancarlo’s house, and soon you’ll forget all about what happened.”

“Justin,” Lola snapped, her anger flaring once again. “And no, we won’t have a lovely time at Giancarlo’s house. He’s not here.”