Page 8 of When I Picture You

“You know I’d love to, but I have an early flight and I’m at a different hotel.”

Lola was thankful for the excuse. As much as she wanted to please her sister, Claudia was wrong: Lola would not have fun. She’d feel, as she had all night, like everyone else lived on planet Earth and she was a satellite circling above them.

All night, except that moment with Renee.

Lola waved to her sister as the bus pulled away.

On the other side of it, Renee was standing by her car, looking at her phone.

Suddenly, Lola felt reckless. The guests were gone. Her team had made sure to keep the venue private, and anyway, this was Fellows, not Hollywood. Besides, who knew when—if—she’d see Renee again?

Lola’s feet were moving across the parking lot before she realized she’d made up her mind.

“No after-party?” she called.

When Renee looked up and took Lola in, her green eyes seemed to darken. A shiver of excitement traveled down Lola’s spine.

“Not my vibe. I don’t know why I thought driving myself was a good idea.”

“One too many Joshinators?”

“Maybeonetoo many, and now I can’t get a car.” Renee shook her hair out of her face. “Aren’t you going?”

“I already told you what I’d rather be doing,” Lola said quietly.Renee’s red-painted lips curved with interest. It made Lola feel bold. “Why don’t you come back to my hotel? We can catch up, and I can have that glass of champagne while you sober up.”

Renee’s brows drew together as she studied Lola. Lola’s stomach clenched, steeling for rejection.

But Renee asked, “You sure?”

Lola nodded, then flinched as Renee tossed something toward her. A set of keys hit the pavement at her feet.

“Don’t tell me you forgot how to drive, Lo.”

Lola’s dress pooled on the ground as she bent to grab the keys.

***

Lola’s hotel was twenty minutes away in Grand Rapids. The vision of Lola Gray, international pop star, at the wheel of Renee’s battered Elantra was absurd and borderline frightening. She was so short she had to move the seat all the way up and adjust every mirror, twice—only to nearly make an illegal left at a red light. Wild honking from her security team, tailing them in a black SUV, had stopped her. Renee hadn’t noticed Lola’s security at the wedding. Now she wondered if they’d seen that moment at the bar, or the one in the parking lot—if they knew what those moments meant.

If they meant anything.

Safely at the hotel, Lola and Renee were escorted into an elevator by Henry, Lola’s head of security, who had thin salt-and-pepper hair and a body like a slab of beef. Lola introduced Renee as a childhood friend.

“We’re catching up,” Renee said. She didn’t want Henry to assume Lola had brought her back here to fuck. Not that Renee was sure thatwaswhy Lola had brought her back here. Maybe they really would chat about the last few years, and she’d ignore the newfound humming in her blood when she looked at Lola.

“Have a wonderful night,” Henry said as he swiped a key card at Lola’s door—a standard sign-off or the equivalent of a knowing wink?

Renee peeked around the suite: probably the finest Grand Rapids had to offer, with a separate living room area, a king bed, and a bathroom with a jacuzzi tub. Two gigantic suitcases had puked up their contents onto the carpet.

“Here we are!” Renee turned to see Lola brandishing a bottle of champagne.

Lola peeled the foil off, then twisted free the wire cage and started pushing at the cork. Her forehead wrinkled, glossy lips pursed in effort, but the cork didn’t budge.

Renee crossed the room and slid her hands against the neck of the bottle so that the cork was in her fist, although Lola still gripped the body. They were right up against each other, and the space between them seemed to fizz and spark.

“It’ll explode if you do it like that,” Renee said, conscious of how close her mouth was now to Lola’s ear. “You have to be gentle.”

One hand tight on the cork, she guided her other to Lola’s and twisted the bottle. The cork loosened and pulled free with a sigh. Blue vapor flowed from the mouth of the bottle.