Olivia shifts uncomfortably in her seat. “He seems…better. I know you hate him?—”
“Olivia,” I moan, accepting my americano from the server with a quiet smile.
“He’s just going to be in our lives, Sloane. Better get used to it,” she reminds me, taking a snarky sip of her coffee.
“Andy hasn’t said anything to you?” Jean’s eyes narrow. “Aren’t they besties?”
My lips purse as the door chimes and a group of girls comes rushing in, giggling as wristlet wallets full of charms jingle on their arms, the smallest of them catching my eye.
“Sloane!” Carmen squeals before tamping it down in frontof her friends. She shivers as she moves toward me, and I notice that beneath her coat is just a normal t-shirt, one I’msureRebecca would’ve demanded she replace if she’d been available.
“What’s this?” I ask, clasping the hem between my fingers. “You want your brother to find you frozen in an alley way?” I rummage through my bags, trying to find the sweater that’ll definitely be too big but will keep her warm nevertheless.
“I’m fine,” she mumbles, blushing as she glances back at her friends that stare over at our table in awe. I pull an easy smile, waving as I hand Carmen the magenta cashmere pullover I just got, and she tilts her head. “Thank you,” she mutters, shrugging off her jacket to pull it on. It’s almost dress length on her, but it works with her coat. “I gotta go.”
“No, of course,” I wave her off, fighting a smile as I notice Olivia and Jean ignoring the girls ogling them. “Go be cool,” I say, waggling my brows as Carmen flees back to her cohort. We can hear their whispering from here, and I try my best not to laugh too obviously.
“I feel a little famous,” Jean says, popping his shoulder beneath his navy corduroy coat. The sun, almost set, reflects off the high points on his face, glints on the glossy panes of Olivia’s hair, and I wonder at their lack of self-awareness.
“You are to those girls. They all go to the conservatory,” I remind him, settling into the suede covered seat. “Anyway, they all follow the Astor Hill Gazette—knowallabout us, I’m sure.”
“Ugh,” Liv intones, her nose scrunching. “I can’t read the Gazette.”
“But you work for it…?”
“Exactly. I already know what is going to be printed. But reading the finished spins? Nauseating. They’re never right, always horrendously slanted. Naturally, because of you–know–who.” She shoots a look at Jean who shrinks back before standing up a little taller.
“Well I do read the papers—all of them. How can you not? It’s the world.”
“It’s nottheworld. It’s like, one view of it.” Croissants, freshly warmed up, are placed in the center of the table, and I greedily claim the biggest one. Jean cocks his head and is moments from challenging me to a duel, before he just takes the next one.
Olivia barely eats anyway.
“I eat!” she says in shock, and I wonder how many of my thoughts are not actually internal.
“Yeah but, you probably didn’t want a big one. Right?” Jean says with false timidity, and my laughter rolls out of me, the warmth that builds there like my own little furnace.
“Whatever, gossip heathen,” Olivia jokes, and Jean takes it in stride.
“Speaking of…this reporter from The Journal is like, harassin’ me,” I say, bringing my latte to my lips.
Jean freezes. “The Journal?”
I nod.
“And?”
“And nothing. I ignored her. She wanted to talk about Elliot.” I make a look of disgust.
“Yeah, I bet. They’re writing a wholeme tooseries on him. Well, him but it’s like a whole group of them.”
I almost do a spit take. “I’m sorry?”
“I can forward it—” he starts to say before Liv’s hand flies up.
“Pause. She’s contacting you because what he did to you is apparently part of a veryme too-esquepattern, and you’re just ignoring her?”
“He didn’tdoanything to me,” I chuckle, taking a bite of croissant.
