Page 15 of Hotter in the Hamptons

It was an hour drive to Sayville, where they’d catch the ferry to Fire Island, which, according to Aly, was the correct amount of time to prep Lola to meet her friend group.

“So it’s Colette and Jess, and then Laurie and Lauren and their toddler, Clancy,” she said, one hand on the wheel and the other resting possessively on Lola’s leg in a way that Lola had quickly come to expect. “Colette and Jess are the most traditional butch/femme couple of the group. They’re from another era. You’ll see. And Laurie and Lauren are my bros. We call them the Laurs. They’re my most normal friends. Laurie is a social worker and Lauren is a dentist. I love having friends who don’t work in media. They’re both LHBs. It’s really cute. And they’re both great, but Lauren is the sweet one. You’ll see what I mean.”

Lola’s head was overflowing with information. “Wait, slow down. What’s an LHB?”

Aly laughed. “Sorry. Long-haired butch.”

Lola tilted her head to the side, considering this. “Is that what you are?”

“Mmmm,” Aly said. “Not really. I feel like people always assume I’m more on the masculine spectrum than I am.”

“The masculine spectrum,” Lola repeated, suddenly feeling out of her depth. “Right. Okay. Are they all married?”

“Lauren and Laurie are. Colette says marriage is a tool created by the patriarchy to keep women at home.”

Lola laughed, thinking of how she herself had balked at the idea of marrying Justin. “She’s not wrong. And what do Colette and Jess do?”

“Colette is a literary darling. Her last novel was an international bestseller. And Jess is an associate producer, film and TV.”

“Chic,” Lola said. “Okay, tell me how you know everyone.”

Aly launched into a story about how she met Laurie and Lauren at an all-lesbian pickup basketball game in Fort Greene, even though Aly hated basketball and was only there because her other friend was going through a breakup and needed company. Then she said, “And don’t freak out, because it was a million years ago, but Colette is my ex.”

Lola’s mouth went immediately dry. “Why would I freak out? We all have exes.”

“We sure do,” Aly said in a tone Lola couldn’t read. “But we’re cool. It’s been a really long time. We’ve both been with a lot of other people since then. And she’s really in love with Jess.”

“Great,” Lola said, vowing to be reasonable. “I can’t wait to meet everyone.”

“They’re going to love you,” Aly said, kissing her at a red light.

“I guess we’re about to find out,” Lola said, her stomach twisting. She felt like she was about to take a test she hadn’t studied for. “They know I’m coming, right?”

Aly waited just a beat too long before answering. “They know I’m bringing someone. Did I tell them it was you specifically? I mean, no.”

Lola’s stomach plummeted. “Oh good,” she replied, unable to keep the sarcasm out of her voice. “I love providing the shock value.”

Aly tightened her grip around Lola’s thigh, not taking her eyes off the road. “That’s not what’s happening here, I promise. It’s going to be totally fine. You’ll see.”

Lola sighed. She didn’t want to ruin this perfect day with her nervousness. The sun shone high and hot on the car. The ocean was sparkling. Her bag was packed with ten different dresses and twelve pairs of underwear for forty-eight hours. She could get through this. If they didn’t love her automatically, she’d force them to. She might even have a good time.

***

The rental in Cherry Grove was right on the beach. It was shabbier than the houses Lola and Aly were staying in for the summer but with its own kind of run-down charm; it had salt-weathered wood shingles and a huge porch overlooking the ocean. As they walked up, a toddler came bursting out the door, two gorgeous women with identical light-brown hair chasing after him.

“Clancy, get back here!” one of them yelled, sighing deeply before dragging her eyes up to non-toddler level, where she finally noticed Lola and Aly standing before her, holding hands with their luggage at their feet. “You’re here!” she shrieked, allowing the other woman to retrieve the toddler from the sand.

Aly and the woman embraced tightly. When they pulled away, Aly said, “Lola, this is Laurie.”

“So nice to meet you,” Laurie said, a smile blossoming across her face. She was wearing cut-off shorts, a bikini top, and a trucker hat. Like Aly, she boasted a kind of understated beauty, like she didn’t spend much time at the mirror because she didn’t have to. She pulled Lola into a hug and then shot a look at Aly. “Well done,” she said.

Aly smirked.

Lola wondered what Laurie knew of their situation or if the existence of a situation was simply implied.

To Lola, Laurie said, “That’s my wife, Lauren, and the little monster is Clancy.”

Lauren, who was shorter, equally pretty, and wearing an oddly similar outfit, materialized from around the porch, a squirming Clancy in her arms. “Hi, lovey,” Lauren said to Aly and then gave her a one-armed hug, the baby wriggling between them. “And who is this?”

“This is Lola,” Aly said.

“Hi, Lola, welcome.” Lauren shook her hand warmly. Then she glanced at Aly. “You look like you could use some sun, Carter.”

“You know how I feel about sunscreen,” Aly replied peevishly.

Lauren rolled her eyes. “We know, we know. Sun protection is the only true antiaging product. Does she preach to you like this too?” she asked Lola.

Lola put a hand on her hip and assessed Aly keenly. “No, she actually has not, which is surprising, given that I’m a sun worshipper. I feel almost offended.”

“Don’t worry,” Aly said. “I’m coming for you and your baby-oil habit.”

“She probably just doesn’t feel comfortable bossing you around yet,” Laurie said, bumping her shoulder into Aly’s.

Lola felt herself blush, and Aly grinned at her as if reading her mind.

Oh, they have no idea .

Suddenly, Clancy started wriggling again, pulling Lola’s focus as an alarming amount of snot dripped from his face and down his shirt.

“Oh, poor thing, does he have a cold?” Lola asked.

“No, he’s fine,” Lauren said, grinning. “What makes you say that?”

Lola didn’t know if she was joking. “It just seems like a lot of mucus.” She grimaced.

Laurie laughed, saving her. “Watch what happens when I try to wipe it.” She pulled a tissue from her pocket. The second she got within an inch of Clancy’s face, he started screaming, his face turning a reddish, ragey purple and his little eyes going all scrunched up.

“Got it,” Lola said, swallowing the ick that rose in her throat. She had never been good with kids.

Lola heard the sound of a door creaking open on ancient hinges and followed Aly’s gaze as she looked toward the house and grinned.

A small woman with a jet-black pixie cut and tiny sunglasses was walking toward them, a paperback in her hand. She was pale as a vampire with a see-through black dress and nothing but bikini bottoms underneath, her lips stark red with fresh lipstick.

“I cannot believe you got your hands on the Intermezzo galley before me,” Aly cried.

“Sally sent it to me,” the woman said, kissing Aly on each cheek.

“I’ve never been so jealous in my life.”

Please don’t be Colette , Lola thought as she watched the easy familiarity between Aly and the woman before them. Please don’t be Colette. Please. Don’t be. Colette.

The woman turned to Lola.“Colette,” she said, sticking her hand out to shake. It was bony and cold in her grip.

“So nice to meet you,” Lola said, forcing her best smile. She paused for a moment, searching for something more to say, something impressive. “Wow, you’re so pretty,” she blurted out instead.

Internally, Lola winced. Externally, she willed herself to keep smiling.

Colette did not smile back. “As are you, love.”

Lola felt her anxiety, which had briefly quieted in the casual warmth of Laurie and Lauren, rise once again. The group stood there for a moment, awkwardly snared in the what’s next of it all, when a fourth person burst from the house, waving her hand in greeting.

Jess, Lola reasoned, silently thanking the new arrival for the quick interruption. She looked like James Dean in a white T-shirt and blue jeans, her thick, brown hair slicked back in a pompadour.

Lola tried not to stare. Jess was very, very attractive.

She saw what Aly meant when she said the couple was from another era. They almost looked like Danny and Sandy at the end of Grease , all polished and sleek and hilariously juxtaposed against the weathered beach house.

Jess greeted Aly with a slap on the back so hard that Aly coughed.

“Let me take your things inside,” Jess said to Lola after they were introduced.

“I got them,” Aly said, but Jess had already gathered up all their bags and was heading inside.

Lola was surprised to see Aly roll her eyes. Was it jealousy? Did Aly not like being one-upped in the chivalry department? Did Aly prefer to be the only one taking care of Lola, or was it more about the performance of caretaking, and in that case, was it about what Colette thought? Lola felt unmoored in the new social dynamics, trying to understand years of friendship in a moment and how she fit in the mix.

They all followed Jess into the house, which smelled like Banana Boat sunscreen and the harsh chemicals people used to clean Airbnbs between guests. None of the furniture matched. Kids’ toys were everywhere.

Toto, we’re not in East Hampton anymore , Lola thought as she took in the cramped rooms, the shaggy throw blankets, and the half-open windows. The house was great. She had just grown used to Giancarlo’s elevated beach decor and clean ocean view. Her summer thus far had been a bit more Amalfi Coast than Long Island. Not that there was anything wrong with Long Island. Lola could do Long Island. She could hear Ryan’s scoff at the very thought. Lola Likes Long Island, my ass , she imagined him whispering conspiratorially in her ear. Lola shook her head, urging herself to stop being such a snob.

Aly and Jess took their bags upstairs, still in an odd standoff about who could carry the luggage up the fastest, while Lola followed the others into the kitchen. The counters were a mess, with bags of tortilla chips, dried fruit, nuts, LaCroix cans, and a few wine bottles strewn about, sprinkled in with sippy cups and scattered Cheerios. The art on the walls was cheesy and beach themed: paintings of seashells and sailboats, a large anchor hung on the pantry door. And somehow, as she looked from Colette to Laurie, Lauren, and Clancy, as they easily sank into their spots around the room—Colette perched against the counter, arms crossed; Clancy plopped on the floor with a toy truck; Laurie and Lauren quickly asking if she wanted a tour, handing her a cold glass of water—Lola realized just how much everyone fit here. How even Aly fit here.

She was the only one out of place.

Lola leaned against the sink, chugging the water. Her mouth was suddenly very dry.

“Do you want something to eat, Lola?” Lauren asked, popping open a bag of tortilla chips.

“I’m okay to wait until dinner,” Lola said. The truth was she was too nervous to eat. She needed these girls to like her, and she wasn’t quite sure how to accomplish it.

“So have you been out here before? To Fire Island, I mean?” Laurie asked, sitting at the table. She took her hat off and fluffed her hair with her fingers.

“Actually, no,” Lola said. “Just the Hamptons.”

“It’s gay heaven,” Lauren said, sitting on Laurie’s lap, chips in hand. “I mean, like, gay boys . Cherry Grove is the one beach for the lesbians.”

It hadn’t occurred to Lola that the lesbians and the gay men would want their own beaches, and her face must have said so, because Laurie explained, “Different cultures. They’re here to party. We’re here with our wives and children to drink a glass of wine on the beach and then go to bed early. Not to be a total fucking cliché, but here we are.”

Lauren said, “We have fun sometimes, I swear.”

Lola realized, as Laurie was talking, that they had assumed she was not one of them. They were right, but it stung a little. She felt a twist in her stomach. She wished Aly would come back downstairs.

“Do you come here every summer?” she asked, trying hard to remain calm.

“We try to,” Colette said. “The wild card is always Carter. Sometimes she has time for us, and sometimes she doesn’t.”

“One time, Aly met a girl at the bar down the road and didn’t come back for a week,” Laurie said.

Lauren gave her a light, playful slap. “Don’t scare Lola,” she said. “She just got here.”

Lola managed a shaky smile. “No,” she said. “I want all the dirty details.” As she said it, she wondered if it was true. Did she want to know about Aly’s sordid past? She was curious, but would it be better if she didn’t pry? Could she remain in this blissed-out oblivion forever?

“Aly’s the best,” Lauren said. “Don’t listen to us. And besides, we were all young and dumb once. Don’t forget the year Jess got so drunk, she went to the wrong house, passed out on the couch, and woke up to that one queer punk band having a nice midmorning brunch around her.”

She held the bag of chips out to Lola, who caved and took a handful.

“So, East Hampton, right?” Colette, who had inched closer, now leaning against the fridge, asked. “Next door to Aly?”

Seems they did know something of who she was.

Lola nodded. “Giancarlo’s house,” she said, her mouth still full of chips.

“I love that house,” Colette said breathily. “I’m convinced no one has better taste.”

“I agree with you,” Lola said, swallowing. “Though personally I’m a little sick of minimalism. If I had my own house, I wouldn’t have the restraint needed for an all-cream color palette.”

Clancy abruptly threw the truck to the side and started wailing.

“Uh, yeah, same. Beige doesn’t look good with Fisher Price, does it, Clancy?” Lauren said, swooping in to pick him up before sniffing his bottom. “Oof, looks like someone needs a change. Laur, some help here?” She strolled into the other room, talking softly and bouncing him as Laurie followed in their wake, leaving Lola and Colette alone in the kitchen.

The silence between them stretched.

Lola took another sip of water. She could feel Colette’s eyes on her like a second skin.

“I know you,” Colette said finally, taking her tiny sunglasses off. “You’re the influencer from the article. The ‘lesbian chic’ heard ’round the world.”

Lola felt the blood rush to her cheeks. “That’s me,” she replied, trying to sound casual. After a week of mind-blowing sex with Aly, she had almost forgotten it was the article that brought them together. Almost.

“Huh,” Colette said, leaning against the counter, sizing her up. “Isn’t this a plot twist.”

“It certainly is.”

“I mean, I guess it’s not super surprising, given Aly’s whole thing,” Colette replied, waving her hand.

Lola could sense the bait dangling before her, but she couldn’t help herself. “Aly’s whole thing?”

“You know. Her thing for straight girls. I mean, you are straight, right?”

Lola was a good nine or ten inches taller than Colette, a fact that seemed to have no bearing on Colette’s ability to make her feel small as the words hit her right in the chest. Lola shrank back, unsure how to respond.

At that moment, Aly walked into the kitchen, eyes flicking between Colette and Lola, her former lover and her current…what? “What’s up, guys?”

“Colette just asked me if I’m straight,” Lola said, trying to keep her voice light. “I haven’t answered yet, because who cares?”

Colette laughed. “Sure. Right. Hey, Aly, what did your lit agent say about the article? Was the editor happy with how it did?”

Aly looked like she wanted the floor to open up and swallow her.

“What’s she talking about?” Lola asked.

“Oh, you don’t know?” Colette asked, feigning innocence. “Aly’s trying to get a book deal. Cultural criticism. The editor at Knopf wanted her to have a couple more viral pieces before they sign on. Why else do you think someone like Aly would profile someone like… you ?”

Someone like me?

“Colette!” Aly’s voice was suddenly sharp. “Seriously?”

“What? It’s not even a big deal—influencing and all that, it’s all silly anyway. You said it yourself, so I’m sure Lola isn’t offended. I mean, she’s here with you, right?”

Lola’s throat tightened. She felt the burn of tears behind her eyes. But there was no chance she was letting those free. She’d been to influencer parties and industry events; she’d had the most cutthroat things said to her with a smile and a swag bag. Colette wasn’t going to make her crack because of a petty comment.

But boy did this one sting.

“Excuse me,” she said. “I’m going to go get settled.”

She kept her stride firm as she left the room. Aly called after her, but once she was out of sight, she flew up the stairs, finding their bedroom quickly, their luggage already on the bed. She saw there was an en suite bathroom and promptly locked herself in it.

Within seconds, Aly was knocking at the door. “Lola, can we talk?”

“Just give me a minute,” she said and sat on the cold tile floor.

“Please,” Aly said. “Let me explain.”

Lola did not want Aly to explain. “I shouldn’t have come here.”

“Please don’t let her get to you,” Aly begged. “Please let me in.”

Lola wanted to be left alone to try to untangle what the fuck had just happened. But she felt guilty for leaving Aly out in the room, so against her better judgment, she unlocked the door. She didn’t get off the floor, though.

Aly closed the lid of the toilet and perched on it, her elbows on her knees.

“I was going to tell you,” Aly started. “I mean you already knew I wanted to write a book. But I wasn’t trying to use you to get a book deal. You have to believe me. I was just doing what my team wanted. I’m so sorry.”

Lola cradled her hands under her chin. “I believe you,” she said. “And I get it.”

“You do?”

She nodded, a little bit vindicated that she was right—Aly had wanted to go viral. And she understood it, even if it stung. She even admired Aly’s ambition. She was right to try to go viral to get a book deal. She just wished it hadn’t been at her expense.

She already felt exhausted by this weekend, and they’d only been there thirty minutes. “It was more hurtful that she said you have a thing for straight girls.” Though Ryan had warned her of this weeks ago, it hit harder coming from someone who actually knew Aly well. It made it more real—and possibly more true.

Aly sighed. “I’m so sorry she said that to you.”

Lola looked at the ground. She felt too upset to look into Aly’s deep brown eyes. She should have known that this whole thing wasn’t about her —it was just Aly’s pattern.

“So do you?”

“No!” Aly said. “I don’t have a thing for straight girls. This has nothing to do with you and everything to do with Colette and the grudge she’s holding.”

At this, Lola looked up. “What’s her grudge?”

Aly sighed and shifted her weight. “We were really young when we dated,” she said slowly, clearly not wanting to tell this story. “And we broke up because I met someone else.”

“That happens.” Lola nodded.

“Well, the person I left her for had been straight up until we met.”

“Ah,” Lola said, the information starting to click into place. “So who was she?”

“She was a model,” Aly said. “And I really loved her. I thought we were going to get married. We lived together for two years. We were kind of an it couple, though I hate to say it like that because it sounds gross. People were just constantly writing stories about us and taking photos of us. It was a whole thing. The relationship, in hindsight, was more about our aesthetic than our actual compatibility. Anyway, it turns out she was cheating on me with her ex-boyfriend. They’re married now. They have two kids. They moved to the suburbs.”

“Jesus,” Lola said, her heart hurting for Aly despite how mad she still felt. “I’m so sorry, babe. That’s awful.”

Aly nodded. “So I guess Colette is mad about our breakup as my ex and, as my friend, worried I’m going to get hurt in the same way all over again.”

Lola imagined what it would take for her to hurt Aly like that, for her to leave her for a man—for Justin, maybe. To have two kids with him and live in the suburbs. It felt impossible. It had felt impossible to live that life with Justin even before Aly was in the picture, but it was extra unfathomable now.

Lola rose to her knees and pulled Aly into a hug. “I would never do that to you.”

“I know,” Aly said, into her neck.

“But does it bother you that I’m straight?”

Aly pulled away and then gave her a funny look. “Do you really still think you’re straight after the week we’ve had? You wouldn’t say you’re at least bisexual?”

“But I’m not bisexual,” Lola said.

The truth was that Lola had never really considered it.

She knew that bisexuals existed, but somehow, in Lola’s mind, it wasn’t an option for her. Her ongoing attraction to men, she’d always felt, negated her occasional attraction to women. She hadn’t bothered to think about the gray area, about whether her fantasies about women meant something larger about who she was. And whether that mattered.

Aly looked annoyed. “Whatever you say.”

“I’m sorry,” Lola said. “This is all so new.” There was no use dragging this out, not when all Aly’s friends were downstairs. “I’m going to take a shower, and then I’ll meet you downstairs.”

Aly seemed to understand that Lola needed a minute and finally left her alone.

In the shower, she turned the word bisexual over and over in her mind. She’d never considered it before. She had always just assumed she was a straight woman who was sometimes attracted to other women. If that made her bisexual, it was news to her.

***

The hot dogs were crisping to perfection on the barbecue by the time Lola reappeared downstairs. The tension from earlier seemed to have dissipated too. Whether because Aly told Colette to be nicer to Lola or she decided on her own, Lola didn’t know and didn’t care.

The sun had set and stars were twinkling into view, the moon a pale sliver in the velvety sky. Fire Island was greener than East Hampton, and the trees were bending in the warm breeze. It was a beautiful night, and Lola felt ready to relax into it. She didn’t want to fight with Aly. She wanted to enjoy this new place, these new people—Aly’s whole world and how she fit in it.

“Can I make you a drink, Lola?” Lauren asked. “We’re all having negronis.”

“That sounds perfect,” Lola said, taking a seat on the balcony beside Aly, who put an arm around her and kissed her on the cheek.

“You look cute,” Aly whispered in her ear, and Lola gave her a reassuring smile.

“Where’s Clancy?” she asked.

“Sleeping,” Laurie and Lauren said at the same time before quickly grinning at each other.

Lauren chimed in, “He goes to bed at seven on the dot. Otherwise, we’d go insane.” She mixed Lola’s drink and handed it to her.

Lola took a sip, struggling to swallow.

Aly said, “Too strong?”

Lola winced as it went down. “No, it’s great.”

Lauren laughed. “Sorry. I have a heavy pour.”

“It’s fine,” Lola insisted. “God forbid I loosen up a little.”

They all laughed. “Don’t be nervous,” Lauren said. “We’re happy you’re here.”

“We are,” Aly said and kissed her on the cheek again.

“I’ll take a cocktail if you’re still making them,” Laurie said, handing her empty glass to Lauren, who smiled wearily as though this was her lot in life.

“Anyone else need a refresh?” she asked the group. Everyone handed her their glasses, and Lauren declared them all useless before trailing into the house, empties stacked and tucked in her arms.

“So, Lola, where are you from?” Jess inquired, leaning forward in her seat.

Lola flushed, finding Jess just a bit too stunning to look directly in the eye. Aly seemed to notice and smirked her way. “LA,” Lola finally offered. “You?”

“No way, me too,” Jess replied. “Whereabouts?”

“Laurel Canyon!”

“Altadena,” Jess added, raising her hands in preemptive surrender.

“So you know that’s hardly LA,” Lola teased, “but I’ll take it.”

“I know, I know. The mountains were my backyard. But still. You and I have more in common than us and any of these East Coasters.”

“Amen to that,” Lola said. “So what brought you to New York?”

“Love.” Jess eyed Colette, whose steely expression dropped momentarily. “We met when we were living in Los Feliz, and then Colette decided she wanted to be part of the New York lit scene. I followed her.”

Colette rolled her eyes. “It was a little more complicated than that. It’s hard to break out as an author when you’re not near the publishing industry. In LA, everyone just wants to know about your screenplay.”

“I get that,” Lola said.

“Do you?” Colette asked, her voice curt.

There was an awkward pause as Lola grappled with what to say next. Sure, she may not be on the forefront of literary fiction, and sure, she didn’t get hand-delivered books from Sally Rooney herself, but still , she at least knew what Intermezzo was. And Lola would pick up a smutty romance here and there. It wasn’t like publishing and media were that disconnected. Lola squeezed Aly’s leg under the table, a silent plea for help.

“Colette, can you be nicer?” Aly asked.

“I’m being nice.” Colette pouted. “I just didn’t realize Lola knew anything about the literary scene.”

Lola stopped herself from rolling her eyes. It was bad enough that she was the only straight girl in the group—now she also couldn’t be taken seriously because she didn’t subscribe to Kirkus ? Great to know.

Lola ignored Colette, turning back to Jess, who seemed to be watching the interaction like a mildly entertaining tennis match. “Do you think you’ll ever move back?”

“I’m back and forth a lot for work, but it’s hard to see myself there at this point. Maybe when we’re ready for a slower life,” Jess said. “What about you?”

“I can’t imagine wanting to,” Lola said, agreeing. “New York City is my whole personality at this point.”

“I know exactly what you mean,” Jess said. “I can’t believe I ever lived anywhere but Brooklyn. But sometimes I do miss the mountains.”

“Yeah. The natural beauty isn’t really the same here. But…” Lola gestured at the ocean. “This is pretty beautiful.”

Lauren returned to the table then, passing out fresh drinks before launching into a story about a mutual acquaintance that quickly pulled the four friends into a rousing gossip session. Lola raised her eyebrow at Jess, the plus-ones left to bond over their mutual West Coastness as Aly and her friends caught up. That was fine; Lola liked Jess a lot. She was funny and friendly and kind, so unlike Colette.

And it was a relief to talk to someone who had no baggage around Lola’s very existence.

“So what do you do?” Jess asked.

The question was a gift; it meant Jess didn’t know who Lola was or what Aly had written about her. She briefly considered lying, inventing a persona, but knew she wouldn’t be able to keep up the ruse.

“I’m a content creator. I mean, an influencer. I used to be a fashion blogger.”

“Oh, cool.” Jess nodded. “What’s your, like…” She paused. “Your thing? Sorry, I’m not asking this right. What do you influence people to do, I mean?”

“Buy clothes,” Lola said, chagrined for a moment before adding, “Vintage is my specialty.” That wasn’t necessarily true anymore, but maybe she could speak it back into existence.

“Oh, that’s really cool,” Jess said, like she was genuinely impressed. “I love vintage. You’ll have to tell me where you go in New York. I need some new spots.”

At this, Lola realized she didn’t have any recommendations. Didn’t have any new spots or freshly designed thrift finds to speak to. She suddenly felt struck by the fact that her plan for a soul makeover had paused the second she and Aly kissed, the pile of vintage she’d impulsively bought that first week in the Hamptons remaining in a neglected pile in her room.

It wasn’t just the clothes themselves, of course; she knew that. It was what they represented. A different path—one where she was more creative, more independent, more free. Could she still take that path? Or had she been so busy distracting herself with Aly that she’d missed the boat?

No , she thought. It wasn’t too late. The summer wasn’t over yet.

Right?

“We’ll compare notes,” she said to Jess. “I’d love your recommendations too.”

After a dinner of hot dogs and salad and cold pasta, everyone started to drift to their separate corners of the house. Aly took Lola by the hand up to the bedroom, closing the door.

“Would you like to have very quiet sex with me?” Aly asked.

That was, in fact, the last thing Lola felt like doing. She’d eaten too much, for one, but mostly she was just overwhelmed. Even when they were all being nice, meeting Aly’s friends had left Lola’s brain waterlogged, her eyes tired.

“Honestly?” Lola asked. “Could we just spoon?”

“Of course.” Aly nodded. “I know this is a lot.”

“It is. But it’s also good. I’m glad I came.” Lola offered a smile, leading Aly to their full-size bed, a downgrade compared to the king mattresses they slept on in the Hamptons.

Lola appreciated the size as Aly pressed against her back beneath the thin quilt.

Anxieties swirled in Lola’s head, dulled only slightly by Aly’s warmth and the negronis. She wondered if she was doing a good job getting these women to accept her. If she was fitting in despite the fact that she wasn’t one of them. If she’d ever be one of them. If Aly minded that she wasn’t. If Aly had brought her here as some sort of test. If she had passed.

“I can feel you freaking out.” Aly’s voice interrupted the quiet, and Lola sighed.

“Sorry, I’m just spinning.”

“Try not to overthink it,” Aly pleaded. “Let’s just have a nice time.”

“Okay, let me just flip my chill switch,” Lola said, her voice flat.

Aly laughed into her hair. “Lola, please.”

“Fine, it’s fine. Switch flipped. I am chill, I promise.”

She hoped this could turn out to be true.

***