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Moving to Texas? I could work in a hotel. Live cheap. Maybe take some online classes to get a skill and forget to tell Peggy where I went.
“I’ll think about it,” I tell her. “Let’s eat. I’m starting to crash.”
20
OLIVIER
Elodie’s version of “slumming it” is a Michael Kohr’s little black dress and Louboutins instead of Manolo’s. I make her change before leaving her apartment.
She winds up in skintight leather pants, the same shoes, and a loose, garnet-colored sweater.
It’s acceptable. I’m in a black turtleneck, black jeans, and Vans. Instead of one of my usual winter coats, I sent out for a white Northface puffer which I end up liking a lot.
Elodie takes issue with the beanie.
“No,” she says, snatching it off my head immediately.
I gasp in outrage. “My hair!”
“Run your fingers through it a few times. This is giving pick-me vibes.”
“I don’t know what that means,” I say, trying to bring my hat-smushed curls back to life and swallowing a huge lump of nerves. I can’t show up with my hair a disaster and Vans.
She scoots closer on the backseat to help me. “It means look at me, how hard I’m trying, pick me to be your new best friend.”
“Oh.”
“I’ll give you a pass on the coat, but the hat is a hard no.”
I’m gonna be sick.
“Mmm… You smell good.” She leans in, dragging the tip of her nose up the side of my throat.
Actual nausea. “Could you not?”
She sighs like a long-suffering wife and continues to rearrange my curls. “Better,” she finally says.
“Are you sure?”
“Are you nervous?”
How the fuck did Elodie Lafayette wind up being my best friend? I’d like to file a complaint with my parents. “I’ve never been to Chelsea before.”
“Have you been to Hell’s Kitchen?”
I make a face. “Where is that?”
She laughs. “And I thought I was sheltered.” Elodie opens a compact and touches up her lip gloss. “I’m excited,” she says. “And I’m loving you like this, Ollie. I haven’t seen you this nervous since we had sex on Tuesday. It’s cute.”
I put a hand on my chest and try to breathe through my nose. Of all the memories I didn’t need right now.
My anxiety only gets worse the further downtown we go. Elodie continues to talk and laugh at her own jokes. I swallow rising bile and bounce my knee restlessly. The driver is some sort of wizard because there’s like—no traffic on his route. I feel like we pull up to the restaurant unreasonably fast. I mean, we’re still late because I made Elodie change clothes, but still.
“Look—should I ditch the coat?” I bark at her before she gets out of the car.
She gives me a shrewd once-over. “No. It’s fine. Plus, you’ll freeze to death.”
I spring out of the car without waiting for the driver to open my door, shaking my arms out to let loose some of this nervous energy. The cold air hitting my face helps, and a breeze blows through my hair, which can’t hurt the situation up there.
