Page 79 of Hotter in the Hamptons

It was so LA to talk about things in terms ofenergy.She was really overdue for a visit home, she realized with a pang. But already, Lola’s mind was stirring with ideas—she needed to find Aly, to tell her what she wanted—Aly.

“Speaking of which,” her mom said, “are you doing anything to take care ofyouthis summer? It’s been a hard couple of months.”

Lola’s train of thought crashed to a halt. She hesitated. “I mean…I ordered a sewing machine,” she said. “I was thinking of maybe trying to get back into designing.”

She could hear her mom smiling. “I think that’s great, honey,” she said.

Lola smiled, albeit a little shakily. Taking care of herself was a nice thought, but it seemed beside the point. The point was Aly—she needed to make things right with her.

“Okay, tell me about you and Dad. What are you guys doing this summer?”

While her mom talked, Lola put her on speakerphone so she couldredownload Instagram, not to post—she wasn’t ready for that yet—but to see if she could find out where Aly was.

She logged in, gritting her teeth as she ignored the barrage of notifications and DMs, and searched for Aly’s profile. They did not follow each other, but luckily, Aly’s profile was public. She only had 9k followers, which Lola found endearing. Someone should really create a social media strategy for the poor girl. She couldn’t stay mysterious forever.

Aly’s most recent post was a flyer for a group reading. Lola zoomed in. It was that night. At Bookhampton. Lola had one hour before it began.

For a brief moment, she allowed her feelings to be hurt that Aly hadn’t invited her. Then she shook it off. She understood why Aly didn’t tell her about it. She would fix this. She had to.

Lola was hatching a plan when Jeanette interrupted her thoughts again. “Honey? Are you still there?” She realized she’d missed everything her mom had told her.

With a pang of guilt, she said, “Sorry. I lost service I think. Can you start over?”

***

Flowers. Lola needed flowers. And big ones too.

She probably wouldn’t have time to come home after going to the florist, so she got ready for the evening as quickly as she could, showering so fast she might as well not have showered at all. Knowing Aly liked her dressed down, she wore her Levi’s and her softest T-shirt. She pulled her hair into a topknot and kept her face bare but for some tinted Chapstick. At the last minute, she remembered deodorant.

Then she hopped on her bike and flew down the street.

It took her ten minutes to get to East Hampton Florist, narrowlyavoiding getting hit by several cars along the way. She leaned the bike against the store and burst inside, startling the florist, who looked up at her through reading glasses and said, “You okay, honey?”

“Great!” Lola said, panting and sweating. “I need a big bouquet of roses.”

“What’s the occasion?”

Lola paused. “Telling someone I want to be with them.”

The florist smiled. “Lucky guy. What color and how many?”

“Girl!” Lola corrected so loudly the florist jumped. “She’s a girl.”

“Good for you,” the florist replied, nonplussed. “Color? And how many?”

“Red,” Lola said, trying to calm down. “A dozen. Please. No, two dozen. Is that crazy?”

The florist shrugged. “I’ve heard crazier.”

***

Lola followed Google Maps to Bookhampton, her bike basket overflowing with roses. The wind teased strands of her hair loose from her topknot. Sweat stains began to form under her arms. But it didn’t matter. She just needed to get to where she was going and fast.

The charming, little, brick bookshop was sandwiched between a Starbucks and an Italian clothing boutique. A crowd of bookish-looking summer people gathered in the dappled light of the sidewalk outside it, dressed simply in linens with branded canvas tote bags and oversized glasses. Lola didn’tnotfit in, in her jeans and T-shirt, though she got a few side-eyes as she entered the bookstore with her enormous bouquet of roses. That was fine, though. Let them look. She was on a mission.

Inside, there were rows of folding chairs arranged facing amicrophone. Lola planted herself in the front row and waited.

Aly was nowhere in sight, but that was okay. She was probably in some sort of green room, if bookstores had green rooms. Lola wasn’t sure. She couldn’t remember the last reading she’d been to or if she’d ever been to one at all.

---