Dark Wild Night

I debate how much to tell her here. I have no idea what Oliver’s dating life looks like and he may be perfectly busy without me, thank you very much. We hang out most days, but not most nights. By the number of stories Finn and Ansel have about Oliver back in the day—as well as Oliver’s enviable poker face—I suspect he’s getting a lot more action these days than I am, I just never hear about it. And, admittedly, with the book launch and travel and events, dating hasn’t been at the forefront of my mind in months. Harlow’s new marriage and Ansel’s imminent stateside move have been the most common topics of conversation when the girls are together.

So . . . I haven’t really mentioned my Oliver attraction to Harlow or Mia. Oliver has just been a nice, happy place for my thoughts to wander in times of stress—a relieving reminder to myself that I have someone I can talk to, that there is someone I can seek whose emotional beat mirrors my own when life gets crazy. Besides, Harlow, Mia, and I have known each other since elementary school, and I’ve learned over the years how quickly Harlow becomes invested. Oliver had a chance in Vegas, and didn’t take it. I can’t imagine he’d be interested in complicating our friendship now that it’s obviously working well for both of us, and I don’t want Harlow to feel resentful toward him for not reciprocating my feelings. Harlow’s strength can also be her weakness: she is the most fiercely loyal person I know.

God, things get complicated when a group of friends is involved.

But with the books published, and travel getting lighter, and in the calm before the movie storm, I have more free time . . . which means Oliver-as-a-sexy-person is more and more on my mind

and this morning I saw him almost naked

and he’s defined everywhere

and not circumcised

and uncut cocks are my kryptonite

and I’ve heard the stories about Oliver’s oral skills amid Finn and Ansel’s snickers

and holy shit I am losing my mind.

Across the table from me, Harlow clears her throat, setting her fork down with heavy intent. I look up from where I’ve been unconsciously doodling on a napkin.

“Testing my patience, friend,” she says.

I clearly need to talk about it . . . and Harlow would understand my hesitation—wouldn’t she?—because she’s been around for every single one of my epic relationship failures.

“I mention that Oliver stayed over last night,” I start again, “because, as it turns out . . . I find him to be rather attractive.”

Harlow leans in even more, and I know her well enough to know that she’s schooling her expression. “A fucking armadillo would find Oliver Lore to be rather attractive, Lola.”

I shrug and she looks at me like she wishes she were a drill and could dig down into my thoughts. I get that look a lot, actually. In truth, she wouldn’t have to go far; they’re right there beneath the surface. It’s just that the surface is pretty solid, like granite.

“Do you think Oliver might also find you attractive?” she asks evenly, sitting up and spearing a piece of lettuce.

I shrug. “I don’t think so. I mean, he didn’t seem all that interested in Vegas.”

She mumbles something about trying real hard not to meddle and then shoves the bite in her mouth.

“There isn’t any meddling to do,” I tell her, but she stares up at the ceiling, avoiding my eyes. “Harlow, what the hell is wrong with you?” I reach across the table and poke her in the forehead. “I just need to talk this out a little,” I tell her. “Because with you married and Mia married, Oliver is kind of my go-to buddy, and you know I have a really, really terrible track record with guys once they become . . .”

Harlow drops her eyes back to me, swallowing a bite of salad before saying, “Once they become more?”

“Yes,” I say, and poke at a spear of asparagus. “Oliver and I see each other almost every day but we’ve never discussed dating or hookups. It’s this odd conversation vacancy in our friendship, this topic we both seem to actively avoid. Maybe that’s for a reason.”

“Should I call Finn?” she says to herself. “I should call Finn. He’ll remind me to keep my fucking mouth shut.”

“But I don’t want you to keep your mouth shut! My friendship with Oliver is probably the easiest of my life.” She looks up at me, eyes flashing, and I laugh. “Other than you and Mia. I just . . .” I put my fork down. “Do you remember how much Brody hated me for like a year after we broke up?”