Dark Wild Night

Finn lifts his chin, asking, “Has the thought occurred to Lola that she might be even busier in four months? They aren’t even filming yet. I mean, I go a week at a time without seeing Harlow, and it sucks, but I know it won’t always be this way.”


“I don’t know,” I say. “I can’t pretend to know what’s going on in her brain right now.”

“I always felt like you two had a secret language,” Ansel says.

“Me, too,” I admit. Our server sets the giant basket of onion rings down in the center of the table. “And because I’m a total asshole, I made things worse by going out with Allison Wednesday night.”

Ansel’s eyes widen. “Hard Rock Allison?” I nod and he lets out a burst of air and reaches for his beer. “Why the hell did you do that?”

Shrugging, I admit, “It was just an impulsive thing. She came by and asked if I wanted to grab dinner. I was pissed at Lola and said yes.”

“Did she think it was a date?” Finn asks.

“Yeah. She did.”

Finn studies me. “You didn’t fuck her.”

“No,” I say quickly, “I clarified where I stood as soon as we sat down. But I still feel like I cheated because I knew it would make Lola jealous if she knew. I wanted to rip my skin off by the time I got home.”

“And if Lola had done the same thing?” Finn asks.

My skin flushes hot again at the idea of Lola with anyone else. “I’d want to rip his skin off.”

“Does Lola know?” Ansel asks, wincing.

“Yeah, she came here looking for me. Fucking Joe the brain surgeon told her.”

“You would have told her, though,” Ansel says, and then furrows his brows. “Right?”

“Of course,” I tell him, giving him an exasperated look. “I nearly called her in the middle of it because I felt so guilty. But then I didn’t, because I thought, What if she’s working and actually gets pissed off at me for calling her to confess that I’m having a platonic dinner with another woman?” I run my hand over my mouth. “It’s a mess. Clearly I am more concerned about all of this than she is. I don’t know how to interact with Lola anymore, and that just feels . . . wrong.”

“You’re both idiots,” Finn says. “Lola is a mess, too, for what it’s worth.”

“But that’s what falling in love does to you, okay?” Ansel says, grinning. “I’m a happy idiot because of Mia.”

“I . . .” I start to say, and feel laughter bubble up inside me. Despite everything, being around Ansel is infectiously uplifting. “Lola is hands down one of the smartest people I know and I fear she is, to borrow a phrase from Harlow, extremely relationship-dumb.”

“Mia mentioned that Lola tends to always put her comic stuff first,” Ansel says, folding his arms in front of him. “That she’s been that way even when they were teens.”

Protectiveness tightens my chest, and I defend her: “She had a rough time. It wasn’t easy for her, that’s all.”

“Well, shit, Oliver, maybe that’s the point,” Finn says. “Maybe she needs to know that this . . . thing between you isn’t all-or-nothing. That you’re not cutting her off completely just because she’s still figuring it all out.”

I grab an onion ring and give him an amused smile. “It’s nice to hear you sounding so wise on the topic, Finn.”

He lifts his chin to me, grinning back. “It’s nice to see you guys fucking up, too, Oliver.”



* * *




THE SKY IS getting dark by the time I manage to wrap up at the store and get to the loft. I’m relieved to spot Lola’s car almost immediately—she hasn’t left for her dad’s yet—and I pull into the first guest spot I see before I get out and make my way to the main door.