Page 80 of Lovebug
“Not a problem. But I do not get ‘endless adoration and attention from guys.’”
I double down on my statement. “Louise. Every guy with a pulse stares at you.”
She wags a whelk at me, then plops the fancy snail in the water. “That is plain not true, Mabel.”
“Case in point, my friend,” I whisper and subtly nod to the booth across from us where James, the bartender from the other night, has been stealing not-so-subtle glances at her since we arrived. He waves shyly when he realizes he’s been caught.
I wave back. Louise does not.
He continues setting up his beer-tasting station.
“Pay no attention to that,” she says. “That means nothing. I’m off men.”
“Okaaaay. Does that mean you areonwomen?” I chuckle.
Lou doesn’t laugh with me. Instead, she sort of freezes, then softens.
“Well, I was. Once,” she says quietly. “But that was complicated. She was my… I wasn’t really in the right space to be…”
Her voice drifts off.
Then she clears her throat.
Oh geez, now I feel like crap. “Louise, I’m sorry. That was a lame joke. I didn’t realize you were—”
“We’re not talking about me,” she says with a strained smile. “We’re talking about you.”
I’m learning that Louise is quite good at avoiding topics she doesn’t want to discuss.
“Okay, but wecantalk about you,” I counter. “If there’s something you want to—”
“Nope! You, you, you.” She grabs my face with both hands. Grabs sounds harsh. Shesmooshesmy face with both hands? “Mabel,” she says with full seriousness.
“Louise,” I respond, mimicking her tone.
“Haven’t you ever looked in the mirror?”
“I don’t know what you mean.” I shake my head and laugh uncomfortably.
“Girlfriend, you’re absolutely stunning.”
I fall silent. That’s the last thing I thought she was going to say.
“Oh,” Louise pipes up, “but let’s get one thing straight before we continue. Despite that juicy tidbit of information I just gave you about my dating past, I am not hitting on you. This is just weird timing that I’m taking this particular moment to affirm you, okay?”
“Understood,” I say with some finger guns for flourish.
“Good. Back to my point. You have no idea how beautiful you are, do you?”
How in the world do I respond to that question?
“You are, Mabel. Inside and out. But let’s start with the ‘out,’ shall we? With that gorgeous red hair and sweet face? Girl, you look like Ariel after she got legs.”
I draw a blank. “Who is Ariel?”
She looks at me like I’m crazy, but I don’t mind. I’m used to being the girl in the room who doesn’t get the cultural references being bandied about.
“The Little Mermaid?” Louise says as she plops a starfish into the tank.
