Page 80 of Girls Will Be Girls
I stutter for a second before Lou says. “I’ll do my best to convince her.”
She chuckles and passes another plate to Lou.
We wave our goodbyes and edge out of the crowd. I look up at him again, and he winks at me.
He turns his gaze away before he can see my blush, catching Noah’s attention in the distance. Lou nods to them to follow us. Noah smiles politely at the two older men they’re talking to and extracts themselves from the animated conversation to follow us to a picnic table on the edge of the party.
“How many?” Lou shouts.
“Three,” Noah replies. “You?”
“None yet,” Lou responds.
Lou hands Noah one of the beers in his hand.
“Three what?” I ask as we reach the table.
“How many times I can get someone to point at me like this in conversation.” Noah gestures with their hand, their thumb on top of their closed fist, the way politicians point in speeches. “And Lou is being destroyed by yours truly this year.”
“You have an unfair advantage.” Lou defends.
“What, because I arrive on time? So unfair.” Noah mocks before turning to me with a big smile. “I’m Noah.” We shake hands, and Noah motions for me to sit at the table. “I’ve heard so much about you.” They grin.
“You have?” I ask.
“Of course.” They say.
“How long have you been here?” Lou asks Noah.
“Ugh, over an hour.” They roll their eyes. “Good of you to finally show up.”
Lou grins. “We’re too fashionable to be early.”
“Well, you’ll be glad to hear, no Otto yet,” Noah says. “Which means, Louisa, you can tell me every detail of yourscam.” He whispers it dramatically.
I laugh, and my cheeks heat at the attention.
“If I were you, I’d make him pay me the big bucks for going along with it.” Noah swigs their beer. “At the very least, make him buy you all of your meals for the next forever.”
“That’s not a terrible idea,” I smirk over to Lou.
Lou just shrugs, smirking back at me from behind his beer, making me think he wouldn’t hate that idea. The thrill that thought sends through me is entirely unwelcome right now.
I look down at my own beer and notice the sparkle on my finger. “He did get me this, to be fair.” I lift the ring up to Noah, who grabs my hand.
“Holy shit, that’s gorgeous.”
“Right?” I say.
“I’ll say one thing.” Noah gives me my hand back and looks over to Lou. “You don’t half-ass things.”
Lou winks at me again with the most addictive grin, and I consider taking the veil to stop myself from lunging at him right now.
As we dig into our burgers, Noah proceeds to tell me about all the times Lou hasn’t half-assed things. Like the time he came up with a training plan, woke Noah up at six in the morning every day for a year, and then ran a marathon because Noah didn’t want to do it alone. The time he let Noah stay with him for six months after their apartment flooded. The time he renteda high-end black town car because Noah wanted to try and trick people that they were Pedro Pascal and Chris Evans on a night out on the town together. Unsurprisingly, it didn’t work.
No one can replicate the natural charm of Pedro — not even Noah — and Lou looks nothing like the Cap.
When I say this, Noah responds: “White boys all look the same anyway.”
