Page 73
Story: Hotter in the Hamptons
“Did you really have a good time?”
“I did,” Lola said. “And I liked getting to see you with your friends—your real friends, not people you know from the fashion world.”
Aly nodded in agreement. “It’s a different vibe. I’d love to meet your non-fashion-world friends too.”
Lola frowned. “You can come over and hang out with Ryan whenever you want. Beyond that, the friendship pool is a little light these days. A certain takedown piece that a very hot, very high-profile journalist wrote took care of that.” She bumped her shoulder against Aly’s, teasing.
“Oh, Jesus, really?” Aly said. They were approaching the ferry now, and the air smelled like fish and fuel. “I’m so sorry, Lola.”
“No, stop, seriously. It’s not just that,” she said. “I mean, I’ve never really needed more than one or two close friends. But the impact on my career, I think it’s worse than you think it is.”
“How so?”
“I couldn’t tell you about this in our interview because of my NDA, but who cares at this point? I designed a line of dresses for Shopbop. They were going to be announced soon. But they killed the deal after the article. They don’t want to be associated with blandness.”
Aly looked pale. “So I ruined your dreams.”
“It’s okay,” Lola said, suddenly uncomfortable. “I can find other dreams.”
“No, you can’t. You’ve wanted to be a fashion designer your whole life, and I took that from you.” Aly dropped Lola’s hand.
“Well, you don’t have to make me feel worse about it,” Lola said.
“And now I’m not saying the right thing either.”
“Jesus, don’t get so defensive,” Lola said. “I’m the one whose life got ruined, not you. I’m allowed to have feelings about it.”
“Yeah, but are you going to hold it over me forever?” Aly asked. “How many times do we have to go over this?”
“I didn’t realize you were so sick of talking about it,” Lola said, dismayed. “We’ve barely scratched the surface, and anyways, you’re the one who brought it up, not me.”
“Barely scratched the surface?” Aly repeated, her voice sounding angry and unfamiliar. “All you did was scream at me about it for my first month out here.”
“But that was before,” Lola tried. “Before we…knew each other.” She didn’t understand why this was turning into a whole thing.
“Yeah, but we were still us,” Aly replied, short and sharp.
“Oh my god. Can you not start a fight with me after we just had such a lovely weekend?”
“I’m sorry,” Aly replied, voice clipped, as they walked up to thequeue. “I guess I’m just in a bad mood. Introvert overload. I don’t do well when I don’t get any alone time.”
“I’m the one who spent all weekend getting tested byyourfriends,” Lola said. “If anyone deserves to be in a bad mood, it’s me.”
“Were they really testing you, though? They just wanted to know if you’re bisexual or not.”
“But who fucking cares?” Lola said, so loudly that people turned to look at them. She lowered her voice but only by a little. “I don’t understand why this feels so…political. I wantyou. It’s not more complicated than that.”
Aly’s eyebrows raised. “You don’t understand whyqueernessispolitical? What do you think it means to be a queer person in this country right now?”
Defensively, Lola said, “Why don’t you go write an article about it?”
Aly rolled her eyes. “I know this is new for you, but what do you think my life, as a gay person, has been like? Some of us don’t have the luxury of just liking who we like. It’s who weare. It impacts ourrights.”
“Please don’t yell at me,” Lola whispered. She suddenly wanted to cry. She felt like she was being lectured or talked down to or both.
“I’m sorry,” Aly said before repeating, a bit quieter, “I’m sorry. I’m being an asshole. I think I need a snack or something.”
They were silent on the boat. Lola stared angrily at the horizon while Aly sulked next to her. It was awkward in the car too. Aly didn’t put her hand on Lola’s thigh at all. Instead, she put NPR on and turned the volume up.
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