loud was that not only did she want to help Marcus, but she wanted to help Clara, too. After all, they were starting to become … friends. Weren’t they? Stranger things had happened. Lorraine had been manager of a speakeasy before she’d turned eighteen, after all.
“Spare me the theatrics, Raine,” Clara said. She straightened her hat and grabbed her briefcase. “I’m gonna get out of here.”
“Where are you going?” Lorraine asked lightly.
Clara sighed. “The Manhattanite offices. I’ve got to talk to Parker, see if he’ll actually let me write something about this Deirdre.”
Lorraine’s lips spread into a big smile. They were friends. It was such a relief to finally have a real girlfriend in the city. She had Becky, she supposed. But she and Becky really didn’t have much in common. Lorraine had started to wonder whether Becky was joking about that matronly stuff at all. She’d made shortbread the other day, and it had been delicious.
“Melvin, you mind letting me out?” Lorraine asked.
“Of course not.” He drank down the last of her milk shake and stood.
Lorraine sprang from the booth and gave Clara a hug. “Sorry for fouling everything up earlier. I’ll try to keep my flair for the dramatic in check from now on. Though you do have to admit … Deirdre looked much better with the dress over her head, don’t you think?”
Clara swatted her back. “You’re so bad, Raine.” She giggled. “But seriously—if all this works out, and if Marcus ever speaks to me again, I’ll be sure to tell him everything you’ve done. I think he’d be impressed by how far you’ve gone to help him.”
While Clara made her way to Midtown, Lorraine and Melvin began the long walk to the Columbus Circle subway station. Lorraine had already blown enough money on the cab she and Clara had convinced to follow Deirdre’s town car to the dress shop.
They moved past Bloomingdale’s on Fifty-Ninth Street and Lorraine felt a pang at the sight of the enormous store and its windows full of mannequins modeling Patou and Chanel. But she could shop another day. Right now it was time to just be happy she wasn’t in jail.
In the distance she could see Pulitzer Fountain burbling in front of the Plaza Hotel, and the trees of Central Park beside it. She glanced at Melvin. It was kind of nice to spend time with him off campus. He seemed like less of an insufferable brain without that constant tower of books in his arms.
“Hey,” Melvin said as they walked. “That was nice what you said to Clara back there. About Marcus and everything. You used to like him a lot, didn’t you?”
“Yep, I wrote bad poetry and everything.” Lorraine’s cheeks pinked at the fool she’d made of herself over Marcus Eastman in prep school. “I was so far gone over him—I used to crash his baseball games and ask for his help on math homework I’d already finished just so I’d have an excuse to stare at him.”
She’d wanted so badly for Marcus to feel the same way about her. Lorraine’s face still flushed every time she thought of the one and only time they’d ever kissed. They’d been at the Green Mill with Gloria and Clara, and Marcus was already so clearly beginning to fall for Clara. She’d leaned in to kiss him and he’d pulled away, horrified. She’d had to cover, say that she was drunk and being silly—but really, she’d been as sober as a judge.
The worst part of that memory was how long Lorraine had persisted in the senseless crush after it had happened.
And then in New York there’d been Hank. Their whole relationship had been a big fat lie, but Lorraine had walked away from it having learned a big fat truth: It was really, really nice when the boy you liked actually liked you back.
Now she could hardly believe how long she’d chased after Marcus, thinking she could convince him to have feelings for her. Why go to all that trouble when there were boys out there who would like her all on their own? Surely there had to be a few lining the streets of New York. She just had to find them.
She shrugged at Melvin. “But Marcus never liked me that way. I should’ve realized that a long time ago.” How lovely it was to finally admit that, without it feeling like her whole world would come crashing down. “How about you, Melvin, have you ever been in love?”