Joe groans. “Please,” he says. “I don’t know why you two are fighting this. You’re never going to be just friends.”
And with that, he reaches for his Greenpeace key chain from behind the register and walks out the door.
Nobody says anything for what has to be the most awkward ten seconds in history.
Finally, Ansel clears his throat. “So . . . lunch. Lola, would you like to join us?” he says, smiling sweetly at her.
Her eyes go wide and she looks at me as if for guidance. I smile, hoping it looks better than it feels because inside I am a giant ball of uncertainty. I want her near me, but I want her to figure her shit out first.
Lola’s phone chimes in her hand and she glances down, reading. We all watch as her shoulders slump and she exhales a quiet “Fuck.”
“What?” I ask, the whiplash instinctive protectiveness roaring to life.
“It’s Greg,” she says, turning off the screen with a sigh. “Ellen broke up with him.” Looking at Ansel, she says, “Thanks for the invite, but I’ve got a couple of calls to make then I need to go over to my dad’s.”
“I hope everything is okay,” I say, and Finn and Oliver quietly echo the sentiment.
She throws me a tiny, shy smile, holding up the bag. “Thanks again, Oliver. This means so much to me.”
The bell over the door rings again as she leaves and the three of us watch her make her way down the footpath.
I’m a tangle inside, hating to see her walk away, wanting to be close to her even when I’m angry, but still feeling the need to build a cage around my heart.
Turning back to my friends, I say, “Remind me to fire Joe the next time I see him,” I say, scratching the side of my neck.
The store is empty, the afternoon is dead. I reach for my keys and turn the sign to read CLOSED, and motion for them to lead the way.
* * *
WE WALK THE few blocks to Bub’s near Petco Park and are led to a table near the patio.
“How are things with Lola?” Finn asks, looking at me over the top of his drink. “You guys seemed . . .”
“Tentative,” Ansel finishes for him. “Which, I’ll tell you, is really strange to watch.”
“It’s about the same.” I stab at my ice water with the straw. I haven’t really felt like talking about it much since the conversation went down, but I’ve told them both enough to know things with Lola aren’t great. “We’re still ‘on pause.’ ” I hesitate. “I think she wanted to unpause, though. She asked me to come over, last night at Fred’s.”
The waitress stops at the table and we each order a burger and rings. When she steps away, they’re both looking at me expectantly.
“I mean, of course I said no,” I tell them.
Silence rings around the table.
“Because obviously she needs to figure her shit out,” I say.
“She can’t do that with your penis in her mouth?” Ansel asks, and Finn punches his shoulder. “What? That was a serious question.”
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.”