Page 38 of Hotter in the Hamptons

“I promise you, it’s not a big deal.” Lola lied through her teeth. “Iam fine and chill. I was just excited to tell you I was right, but beyond that, who fucking cares?”

“I mean, that’s what I’m saying. She can go kick rocks in Birkenstocks.”

Lola laughed. “I think you mean old Celine slides.”

“Not you memorizing her shoes,” he groaned. “Do we hate her, or are we in love with her?”

Lola clenched her jaw. He didn’t really think she was in love with Aly; after all, she had her history of heterosexuality on her side. So there was no reason for him or anyone to think that. Especially since it wasn’t true. Definitely not true.

She changed the subject. “What do you want to do today?”

“I want to get a deep, dark base tan by the pool and play Nicki too loudly.”

Lola considered this briefly, but there was no part of her that could lie still today. She was practically vibrating with energy. “Hear me out: What about instead, we go into town?”

“Town?” he groaned. “With all thepeople?”

“When did you develop agoraphobia?” she shot back.

“I just thought we would be doing a little more lying low and a little less seeing and being seen,” he said. “At least on day one.”

She pouted.

He sighed. “Okay. What doyouwant to do?”

Lola studied her nails. “Coffee, shopping, lunch, pool, nap, alcohol, dinner, more alcohol, maybe drugs? In that order?”

“Ambitious,” he said. “But fine. Only because I love you and I want you to have your perfect day.”

“With my perfect friend,” she replied.

“Maybe someday we can havemyperfect day,” he mused.

“What would your perfect day entail?”

“Something a little more X-rated than errands on Main Street.” He grinned.

***

It was eighty degrees and sunny out, if a little chilly in the shade, but as Lola pulled clothes from her mess of a suitcase, she thought not of being comfortable but about what she’d most want to be wearing if someone important spotted her. Anyone important. Anyone she may want to impress with her city-meets-Hamptons chic look.

A SIEDRÉS halter dress would do the trick. She assessed herself in the mirror, her hair still damp from her much-needed shower. With a plunging V-neck and a hemline that fell just past her ass, even Lola knew it was a lot of skin. But it was summer. Hell, she’d probably look appropriate wearing her bikini on the sidewalk.

Lola tossed her wallet into her white Jacquemus Le Chiquito bag and hesitated before leaving her phone where it lay, charging on the nightstand. She had no one to call, no emails to answer, no notifications worth checking. She was scorned, but she was free. That had to count for something. What would a day be like without her phone? She was about to find out.

She forced herself not to look at Aly’s house as she walked to the car.Be calm, she thought.Be cool. Be casual. You are a hot babe going into town. She doesn’t need to see you checking to see if she’s looking.

Still, as she slid into the passenger seat, she couldn’t help it—she snuck a peek. All she got were drawn curtains and pretty roses. If Aly was watching, it was from a vantage point Lola couldn’t see.

“Maybe she’s still sleeping,” Ryan said, reading her mind.

“Who?” Lola said, fiddling with the seat belt while Ryan rolled hiseyes.

He drove them to Sant Ambroeus with the top down. Warm salt air tangled Lola’s hair, and she put the radio on, finding the local pop station. Ryan turned the volume up. It was all very dreamy. She could almost pretend that she wasn’t here to recover from the implosion of everything she loved.

“Earth to Lola,” Ryan said. “We’re here.”

He had already parked in front of Sant Ambroeus, the Southampton outpost of the trendy New York City Italian restaurant with green-striped awning against classic red brick. In the city, it was famous for its fashionable lunch crowd, iconic magazine editors picking at salads while models sipped their iced coffee. The out east location was sure to be just as fabulous.

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