Page 78 of Let's Kiss and Tell

“Lucy,” I say and kind of hate the way my cheeks begin to feel warm. “We met at a bar.”

“What does she do?”

“She’s also a writer, and she’s so good, Ollie,” I say. “She writes about sex and relationships. I don’t know, I’ve never read about that kind of stuff before, but it’s been giving me this whole new perspective.”

“That’s awesome,” Oliver says. I’m expecting maybe a quip or something about her topics of choice, but he doesn’t say anything. “I’m excited to meet her.”

“Yeah, it’ll be fun,” I say and then pause. “Have you, uh, talked to Mom recently?”

“Not since last week,” Oliver says. “She’s coming here Wednesday, though. Are you going to give her a heads-up about Lucy?”

“I don’t think so.” I tip my head back and look up at my ceiling. Things with my mom this past year have been…complicated. Julia was the daughter she never had, and my mom’s the one person who hasn’t fully accepted our breakup. “She’s still convinced Julia’s going to call off the wedding.”

“Shit,” Oliver says under his breath. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine.” I shrug. “I’m hoping next weekend will sort of open her eyes to the fact that I’m out there seeing other people. I’ve moved on.”

“Yeah, well, let me know if you need anything, okay? We’re excited to see you.”

“You too, Ollie.”

I pull up to another coffee shop, this time at Melrose Place. It’s elevena.m.on a Monday and it’s packed. At least twice a day I’ll find myself wondering what people in LA do for work. Lucy’s already sitting on the patio, typing on her laptop with an iced tea of some sort on the table. She’s wearing a denim on denim outfit with those red jelly flats, and my instinct is to take a picture of her. Obviously, I don’t.

I deserve an Olympic medal for restraining myself anytime I’m near her. After the night at The Peppermint Club and then her straddling me on my couch, it’s blatantly clear that the two of us have a physical connection. It doesn’t matter, though, becauseshe’s now a source on my story and sitting in on another interview today. You don’t fantasize about the way your source feels when they sit on your lap. You just don’t.

“Hey,” I say. “How’s it going?”

Lucy looks up and her face breaks out into a smile. A smile that feels brighter than the sun already shining. A smile that’s making me think weird thoughts like how she’s brighter than the sun.Lord.

“Good,” she says. “I decided to come here a little earlier and just do some writing.”

“Relationship story?” I ask.

“Actually, how running clubs are the new trendy way to meet people to hook up with.”

“Should I join a running club?” I take a seat across from her.

“Hey!” She playfully kicks me under the table. “You are spoken for, mister! At least for the next three weeks.”

“All right, I’ll hold off until then.” I tip my chin toward her drink. “Is that any good?”

“Here, try some. It’s a mango passion fruit tea.” She passes me the ice-cold cup that feels great in today’s heat.

I take a sip and am aware we’re drinking from the same straw. There’s a sweet, fruity taste, and I’m now wondering if her lips taste just like this drink.

“Mm, that’s good.”

“Have it,” she says. “I’ve had enough caffeine today.”

I look at my watch and make note that my interview with Brixley Carter, which Lucy was luckily also available for, isn’t for another ten minutes.

“So, I was talking to my brother this morning,” I say.

“Oliver.” Lucy points at me like she’s remembering an answer to a test.

“I told him that you’d be coming to Sadie’s birthday.”

“Wow, okay.” Lucy closes her laptop. “Big step. How do you feel?”