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“How unpretentious,” Lola remarked. “I’m surprised.”

“I love a dive bar,” Aly said. “I don’t know who you think I am or why you’ve decided I’m so bougie.”

Lola rolled her eyes. “Says the girl with a family homeout east.”

Aly laughed, looking sheepish. “Shall we go inside?”

It was dark and quiet in Murf’s, with a few sea-weathered locals hunched over tables. Aly and Lola sat at the bar.

“Do you have a chilled red?” Lola asked the leathery bartender, who could have been one hundred or twenty, but Aly interrupted her.

“We’ll just take two Buds, please.” And then to Lola, she whispered, “Trust me on this one.”

Lola rolled her eyes, but being overruled like that made her stomach do a little flip.

There was a crack of thunder, and then the sound of rain dumping down on the roof.

“I think we’re going to be stuck here for a minute,” Aly said.

“Great,” Lola said, and she wasn’t sure she sounded as sarcastic as she meant to.

“Should we just have it out, then?” Aly turned to face her, and Lola did the same, wondering what Aly might do next. “Youhaveto stop yelling at me in public.”

“Ihave to stopyellingatyou?” Lola forced a laugh to try to conceal how nervous she was. “Don’t you think your article yelled louder than anything I could say at some stupid event?”

Aly winced. “Look, I’m sorry I wrote something that hurt your feelings. I’m sorry for the fallout. I wish it didn’t have to be such a big fucking deal.”

But Lola wasn’t ready to accept the apology. “The fallout,” she echoed. “Not a big deal? My entire team dropped me. I lost all my brand deals. And my boyfriend walked out on me.” The roar of the rain grew louder, and so did Lola. “And even after all that, youcontinueto besuch a dick. Why were you talking shit about influencers at what was essentially an influencer event?”

“You’ve been a dick too,” Aly retorted. “All those comments about me being a nepo baby?”

Lola started to laugh but stopped when she saw the look on Aly’s face—her mouth in a frown that said she was actually hurt by Lola’s words. “I’m sorry,” Lola said. “That was perhaps a bit too far.”

Aly softened at Lola’s apology. “I’m sorry too. I didn’t mean to talk shit about influencers tonight. I just hate when I’m trying to write a story and no one will give me quotes because they’re too busy making content. It wasn’t about you.”

“Was it not?” Lola didn’t believe her.

“Okay, maybe it was a little about you. What you and I do professionally…it’s not the same, you know? It’s not similar enough to seat us next to each other.”

“Yeah. What you do is so much more important than what I do.”

Aly didn’t have a response to this, perhaps because Lola had hit the nail on the head.

“Why amIthe target here?” Lola demanded. “Those journalists at the event were right. I wasn’t your usual beat. Out of the millions of girls in New York City posting on Instagram, why me? I know it’s personal. Ithasto be personal. What did I ever do to you?”

Instead of answering, Aly crossed and uncrossed her arms. She tucked her hair behind her ear. For a brief moment, she looked like a little kid, unable to sit still.

“Oh my god, stop fidgeting,” Lola said. “Just tell me.”

“It’s dumb,” Aly finally said. She looked embarrassed, an emotion Lola hadn’t realized cool-as-a-cucumber ARC could experience.

“Out with it.”

“Laquan Smith, Fall/Winter 2019?”

Lola tilted her head, confused. “Huh?”

“You really don’t remember?” Aly looked sheepish now.