Look - Zan Romanoff Page 0,25

always down for girl talk,” Lulu says. “Or, I mean, boy talk, I guess? Whatever. You know what I mean.”

“Really?” Cass asks.

Lulu doesn’t know what to say. It seemed like such a normal offer—the next thing you say in a conversation like this. But then the whole point of Cass is that she’s someone outside of Lulu’s so-called normal life: a late-night escape hatch, a secret Flash message, an abandoned hotel and a bunch of projects and everything Lulu usually doesn’t let herself think, or want, or say.

“If you want to,” Lulu says again, but even she can hear how unsure of herself she sounds. “Isn’t that what girls do?”

“Some of them,” Cass says. “It’s not really my thing.”

Lulu thinks of sitting with Bea in her kitchen, gossiping about Rich and Owen. She thinks about the hundreds of hours she’s spent poring over screenshots of digital conversations or trying to reconstruct half-remembered Flashes, close-reading much more thoroughly than she’s ever done with her English assignments. It’s hard for her to imagine a life that doesn’t include that. She wasn’t being facetious with Cass—isn’t that what girls do with each other?

But then, some of the things she wants from Cass aren’t things she wants from Bea.

It’s too much to think about the idea that Cass might want those kinds of things from Lulu too.

“Let’s talk about something else, then,” Lulu says.

Cass grins sideways at her and then leans back on her elbows, tilting her face up to the sky.

Lulu can’t help thinking about what it would feel like to be allowed to kiss the line of her throat.

* * *

The afternoon disappears too fast. Lulu’s stomach rumbles; she hasn’t eaten anything since the green smoothie Deirdre made her as a special pre-final treat this morning. Cass reaches over and taps her fingers lightly against Lulu’s side. “Hungry?”

Lulu doesn’t want to disturb the funny little world they’ve created for themselves, but she really, really is. “Yeah,” she admits.

“There’s a place across the street,” Cass says. “Ryan introduced me to one of the bartenders once. We can probably get in as long as we don’t try to order any alcohol—” But as she’s saying it she’s fumbling her phone out of her pocket.

Lulu feels the first clench of disappointment at its return, and then another, deeper pull when Cass says, “Or actually forget that. Ry’s at The Hotel if we want to head there. He won’t have food, but he will definitely have weed, and we can get takeout on the way or something.”

“Sure,” Lulu says. “Totally. Sounds good.”

CHAPTER TWELVE

LULU BEATS CASS to The Hotel. The gate is already unlocked, so she cruises through it and finds Ryan waiting for them at the building’s entrance, camera in one hand.

Standing in line at In-N-Out with Cass, it seemed reckless and bold to order a burger animal style, French fries, and a vanilla shake. Now, holding the paper bag, her fingers slippery with grease from the fries she ate while she drove, Lulu feels exposed and stupid, like she’s showing too much of her belly. Here she is, just another hungry girl.

It gets worse when Ryan nods a greeting and turns the camera on her. He doesn’t say anything, so Lulu doesn’t say anything either. Instead, she takes a defiant sip of her shake. The sugar seems to crystallize in her mouth, and her throat feels full with the slick of the milk fat.

“I thought you said taking pictures of people was cheap,” she says when she’s swallowed.

“I said hot girls.” Ryan smirks. “And anyway, you looked so fucking pissed, I had to. I was just shooting these guys.” He gestures to the lounge chairs that have been assembled out in front of The Hotel’s doors. They make the driveway look like an ersatz pool deck. “They just got delivered.”

“So they won’t stay here?” Lulu sits down on one and stretches her legs out in front of her.

Ryan, mercifully, puts his camera down.

“Nah, I just haven’t gotten them moved yet. I’m kind of into it, though, right? The surreality of it.”

Lulu stifles a groan. She knows so many dudes like Ryan. They take one art history class and think it makes them deep.

“I bet you’ll be pretty bummed when this place opens for real,” Lulu says. “And it isn’t yours to play around with anymore.”

“If it does,” Ryan says. “Cass didn’t tell you about the curse?”

Lulu laughs.

Ryan shrugs.

“A curse? For real?”

“I mean, it’s not like my ancestors killed a Gypsy woman’s child or anything,” Ryan