“Like you said, she finds me annoying,” he said. “Or she thinks she’s better than me, or both. I can’t tell. The point is, she’s not coming to the beach. I just wanted to give you a heads-up that I invited her, in case it came up, or she changed her mind.”
Even to Asa’s ears, that explanation sounded pretty flimsy. The truth was, he had no idea why he’d mentioned it at all. Kiki reached forward to grab her Coke off the coffee table and take a big gulp. John was off his phone now, watching him. For someone who didn’t even know who they were talking about, Asa had the sneaking suspicion that John understood more of the undercurrents in the conversation than might be expected. He could be the very definition of still waters run deep.
“Why would she think she’s better than you?” John asked.
Asa shrugged, resisting the urge to say Because she is better than me? He didn’t believe that, deep down. But it was hard not to see all the ways that, if she believed that, she’d be right. She had a college degree, a job where she worked in an office, her own apartment (which she undoubtedly rented, but still—in this economy?). She was responsible and competent and professional.
Well, except for the snowball incident.
“She doesn’t,” Kiki said. “I know Lauren might seem stuck-up, but she’s really not like that. Sometimes I think—”
Elliot came bounding into the room, plopping down on the second couch next to John. “Okay, sorry about that,” they said. “I swear my mother feels the need to narrate every single second of any commercial that makes her cry. Which is practically all of them at this time of year. Have you seen the one with the old guy training to lift his granddaughter up to put the star on the tree?”
Kiki reached for the remote to restart the show. “Haven’t seen it,” she said. “But I know the type. You’ll be internally rolling your eyes at how emotionally manipulative it is, and that’s the moment when you’ll get completely wrecked.”
Asa forced a laugh. On the screen, the host was laying out this week’s challenge, and the candidates were reacting with the appropriate level of excitement and trepidation. Asa found it hard to focus. He wished Kiki had been able to finish her sentence.
Chapter
Seven
Lauren had been meaning to clean out her closet for a while, and now seemed as good a day as any. She’d taken out all of her clothes and piled them on the bed, putting on some upbeat music to try to trick her brain into finding the task fun.
Normally, this was the kind of thing Lauren found fun. She had an almost compulsive need to catalog things, to cull and curate them. The act of sorting her clothes into categories felt ritualistic and almost soothing—these to keep, these to be donated, these to be thrown away. Of the ones to keep, these were for work, these for casual gatherings, these for lounging around her apartment. Once, Lauren had read an article recommending a wardrobe of only thirty-three items, providing ways to mix and match for maximum efficiency. She’d been excited to try it herself, as a kind of experiment, only when she laid all of her clothes out she realized she didn’t even have thirty-three items to begin with. She’d done too good a job keeping everything as minimalistic as possible.
That was one reason, at least, why she wasn’t at the beach. The only bathing suit she owned was a green bikini she’d bought on one of those whims where you thought a new piece of clothing would turn you into a different person. Someone more confident and carefree, someone who didn’t overthink everything and feel self-conscious every second of the day.
She lived in Florida, and that bathing suit still had its tags on it. It should really be one of the first items to go in the donate pile, but for some reason, Lauren couldn’t bring herself to do it.
It wasn’t just the bathing suit, either. Lauren didn’t know why Asa had invited her, but she didn’t trust it. Probably he hadn’t meant anything by it at all, was just being polite. Or he knew what a hermit she generally was, and felt sorry for her. Or he had some dastardly revenge plot for the snowball fight, and planned to dump a handful of wet sand on her.
Besides, she hadn’t been lying when she said she had a lot to do. There was the closet, but also she really did want to get some work done on her proposal for Dolores. It had been four days already, and she’d barely had a chance to even think about what might be done to update Cold World. Lauren’s brain tended toward the practical, but she knew Dolores was looking for something more than just an efficiency hack like putting the lights on timers.
She wondered what Daniel would come up with. Maybe something that made Cold World classier, a destination for a wedding or a venue for corporate events. Briefly, Lauren thought about what that might look like, and she could almost picture it. It could be the type of place where Marj’s law firm would host its next holiday party. She could picture Daniel standing at the end of a renovated Wonderland Walk, handsome in his tux with boutonniere, hands clasped behind his back, smiling down the aisle . . .
Lauren clenched the dress she’d been holding, bringing it to her face to muffle her groan. The man spoke five sentences to her and suddenly she was envisioning him in full wedding cosplay. It was obscene.
And anyway, the more she thought about it, the more Cold World as a classy venue just didn’t work. A large part of its charm was in its kitsch. There had to be a way to retain that but make it . . . better. Right?
Her phone buzzed, and she withdrew it from her pocket to see a picture on the screen. Kiki was front and center, clearly in charge of the selfie, sticking her tongue out of the side of her mouth and crossing her eyes. Next to her was a woman Lauren recognized from other pictures as Kiki’s girlfriend Marj, smiling widely, leaning into a guy with dark curly hair who Lauren assumed to be one of the housemates she hadn’t met. On his other side was presumably another housemate, one with a goatee and a look of being over it. And then there was Asa in the back, his blue hair mostly out of frame, his smile half-covered by the curly guy’s head.
Weather’s perfect. You should come out!! Park at the dunes if there’s a spot—bit of a walk but ten bucks and you can stay all day.
Lauren bit her lip, considering. The drive didn’t bother her. She liked spending long stretches of time in the car, just her and her thoughts. And it might be nice to get out.
She rotated her phone until the photo filled the whole screen. Everyone looked happy, and comfortable with each other. And why not? They hung out all the time. She’d feel silly, going all that way only to feel like a sixth wheel.
Another text message from Kiki appeared at the top of her screen. Please? We’re going to be voting on lunch soon and I’m outnumbered by burger stans.
Lauren grinned. Personally, she had no issue with a good burger, but she knew that Kiki had some rant about how it was the most boring food choice in the world. Lauren didn’t understand what made burgers persona non grata while chicken sandwiches appeared to be okay, but she knew better than to bring it up.
Maybe tacos? she typed back. I can be there in about an hour.
* * *
? ? ?
In the end, it wasn’t hard to find the group at all. Lauren parked where Kiki told her to, and she was going to text that she’d arrived, except that as soon as she stepped foot on the sand she saw them stretched out near the water. Kiki was on her stomach, talking to Marj, who was sitting cross-legged next to her on the same towel. The curly-haired guy was on a towel next to them, a book in his hand.
She didn’t see the other housemate. Or Asa, for that matter. It was probably for the best, since the last thing she wanted to do was explain how she’d suddenly freed up her schedule after making such a big deal about how busy she was.
“Hey!” Kiki said, propping herself up on her elbows to smile up at Lauren. “So glad you made it. John, scooch over so Lauren can put her towel next to ours.”