Page 30 of Hotter in the Hamptons

She heard the sounds of Aly going back inside but found she could not move from her spot on the ground.

A few moments later, Ryan was standing over her. “Lola, what the fuck are you doing?”

“Get down,” she hissed.

Ryan sighed and crouched next to her. “Are we having a menty balready?”

“It’s Aly Ray Carter, Ryan.”

“It’s okay, Lola. You’re safe. The scary journalist can’t get you on Long Island.” He laughed, starting to rise.

She grabbed his wrist and yanked him back down. “No! Our next-door neighboris. Aly. Ray. Carter.” Lola was hyperventilating.

“Oh my god.” Ryan rolled his eyes, wrenching his arm free. “I cannot hear one more thing about this girl, Lola! There is no way it’s her. Journalists can’t afford the Hamptons. You areobsessed. You arehallucinating!”

“I’m not,” she whispered, but at the same time, she wondered,Am I?

“Well, whoever it was, she’s gone now,” Ryan said, standing up.

Lola cautiously stood. It was true that the woman was gone, leaving only an expanse of white siding in her wake.

Ryan went to the kitchen and began opening the fridge and the cabinets. There was a bottle of Minuty M Rosé on the counter and a note from Giancarlo welcoming them to his home.

“I’m going to drive to Citarella,” Ryan announced. “We need sustenance.”

“I think I am going to take a nap,” Lola said, her hands still shaking, suddenly realizing how tired she was.

She made her way to the second floor, where she chose the smaller bedroom. All the blankets and sheets were white linen, and it was like slipping into a cloud. She was fast asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow. She didn’t dream.

***

She awoke sometime later, the afternoon light trickling pleasantly through the window. Ryan was not back yet. She drank some water inthe kitchen, eyeing the rosé.

It was not Aly next door, she decided. That would be insane. It was probably just some random girl with a claw clip and good taste in eyewear.

Lola dug around in her suitcase until she found a bikini and changed into it right there in the kitchen. Then she grabbed the wine and headed to the neighbor’s house. She was going to prove to herself that it wasn’t Aly. And maybe she’d even make a new friend in the process. It would be fun to befriend someone this summer. They could get manicures together. Veg by the pool. Critique each other’s tans. Not talk about their social accounts.

She knocked, catching a glimpse of her reflection in the glass door. She looked messy; it was clear she’d just woken up. But it was a beach town.Everyone looks messy at the beach, she told herself.

The door opened. “Lola? What are you doing here?”

She was still wearing her black bathing suit. An unreadable expression played across her face—something between shock, amusement, and annoyance.

ItwasAly.

Lola heard the Minuty shattering on the floor before she even realized it had slipped from her hand.

Chapter 7

Lola and Aly froze, staring at each other, Aly’s mouth half-open in surprise.

“It’s you,” Lola said when her brain came back online.

“It’syou,” Aly replied, sounding just as shocked as Lola felt.

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

“Me?” Aly cried. “You’re the one smashing bottles on my doorstep.”

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