Dark Wild Night

But I hadn’t, and I hadn’t because I knew already not to push. She didn’t want to swim, didn’t want to trip home in soggy clothes that seemed to weigh eighty pounds.

It’s this trait that makes it easier for me to let her walk out of the store after she’s asked me what I’m doing tonight with such intent, I have to step behind the counter to let my body calm. And it helps me understand why every interaction with her the past week feels like two steps forward, one step back. But when she texts me only fifteen minutes later asking if she can come over later . . . I feel in the pounding of my heart that Lola has reached a decision. I just have to hope it’s the one that I want.

I text back a simple Sure.



* * *




ONLY THREE HOURS later, the doorbell rings as Ansel reaches for his keys.

“Expecting company?” he says, and looks in the direction of the door before turning back to me. He’s stopped by to borrow my Wet-Vac for the new house, and stayed for about an hour, waxing on about the place, wanting to get Mia knocked up, all sorts of utopian Ansel dreams. Lola’s silhouette is clearly visible through the window, and this is exactly the reason I’ve been trying to get him out of here before she showed up.

“Just dinner with Lola,” I tell him.

“?‘Just dinner with Lola,’?” he repeats with a smug tilt of his mouth.

“Go home, Ansel.”

“I’m going,” he says, and laughs to himself the entire way down the hall.

I open the door and my heart jumps at the sight of her standing there, dressed like she’s just come from some sort of media interview or event.

“Oliver’s grouchy tonight,” Ansel tells her.

“Is he?” she says. “I was going to suggest we play some poker but now I’m not sure this competitive maniac could handle it.”

“Get him drunk and take all his money. It’s the least he deserves.”

She turns her smile on me, obviously pleased with this idea. “I was planning on it.”

I give her a small grin. “Best of luck.”

“As much as I would love to stay and watch what I’m certain will be a bloodbath, I’m taking Mia to dinner. Goodbye friends,” Ansel says, and bends to kiss her quickly on the cheek. I’m almost certain I hear the words, “Finish him,” before Ansel is bounding down the front porch, and it’s just the two of us. Again.

Lola walks into the house past me, and there’s something new in the way she moves. Something more feminine, more aware.

“All good?” I ask.

Near the kitchen she turns and looks at me.

“All good.” She slides her thick hair behind her ears. It immediately falls forward again and she grins up at me, looking even younger than she is. “Did you have a nice visit with Ansel?”

I give her a confused smile. “Yes? It was a nice visit.”

Her smile stays put, eyes glued to me. “I’m glad you guys got to see each other today.”

“What’s going on with you? You’re as terrible at small talk as my aunt Rita from Brisbane.”

With a laugh, she turns into the kitchen, and I hear the refrigerator open, bottles clinking, and the door closing again. “Maybe I’m nervous,” she calls.

My pulse is rolling thunder in my neck. “Nervous about what?”

There’s more rustling in the kitchen, more glass, and the sound of liquid being poured before she returns.

In a few of those long, hip-swinging strides, Lola hands me a beer and a shot of tequila, and looks up at my face.

“We have a lot to talk about tonight,” she says.

I swallow, wanting to melt into her. Smiling reflexively with her this close, I say, “We do?”

She nods, using her free pinky to free a strand of hair from where it’s caught on her lip. “You said a lot of interesting things up in L.A.”

“Surely nothing you didn’t already suspect?” I say quietly.