Page 67 of Hotter in the Hamptons

“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.”

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