Page 147 of Girls Will Be Girls
“Me?” He grins, holding onto his chest. “Doesn’t matter to me.”
“Otto.” I plead. “I know your relationship with Lou is… what it is,” I say. “But leave me out of this.Please.” I practically beg.
He studies me for a moment, a hint of something breaking his smug exterior for just a second, before his face turns blank.
“Congratulations.” He says before walking off.
I stand there, every possible scenario playing through my head, trying to figure out how to stop this dumpster fire from spreading.
Lou jogs back up to me. “I escaped.” He sighs. “Can I?” He points at my drink. I hand it over to him and he downs it in one, his eyes going wide. “What is that?” He studies the glass. “Ithought it was whiskey, but that’s delicious.” He smells the glass. “That’s like a candy cocktail.”
“It’s amaretto,” I say without looking at him, my mind still reeling.
“Fuck that’s good.” He turns to the bar and orders himself one. “You want another?”
I shake my head as he orders his drink. He takes a swig and whispers,“Oh my god,”to himself.
I feel his eyes find me, feel him watching me, but my mind is going wild. His hand finds its way into mine, bringing me out of my trance. I turn to him, the headlights closing in.
“Lou, I need to tell you-”
“There you are.”I’m interrupted by my mother’s voice. “We’ve been looking everywhere for you.” She scolds as my dad walks up behind her.
“Care to explain?” My dad says sternly. “I get a call saying I have to attend this party in New York. That there’s a big surprise for my daughter, and I get here and find out you’reengaged?”
“You didn’t think to tell us?” My mom adds, a sadness in her voice.
Breathe.
“I’m- I’m sorry, I should’ve told you.” I say. “It just happened so fast.” I try to explain.
“It’s my fault.” Lou steps in, wrapping his arm around my waist. “I was too excited about marrying her that I popped the question out of the blue.” He smiles at them, my favorite smile. “I’m Lou.” He stretches his hand out.
My dad shakes it, a look of anger still painted on his face. “Some still consider asking the father for permission a respectable tradition.” He drops Lou’s hand after a strong squeeze.
“Dad.”I blush.
“In what world does she needyourpermission?” My mom says. “It would’ve been nice to know you were dating, though.”
“I know,” I say.
Lou’s hand comes back and squeezes my waist, his finger rubbing up and down to comfort me.
“Can we meet your family, Lou?” My mom turns to him.
“Of course.” He nods.
“We’ve met your brother, but no one else.” My mom adds.
“You have?” Lou asks, his demeanor darkening a little.
“Yes.” My dad says curtly. “Lovely boy.”
And then — because why would the universe ever throw me a bone — my dad spots thelovely boy.
“Otto.” He calls him over.
“Evening, everybody.” He smiles arrogantly. “Lovely night.”
