The Virgin Society Collection

7. Debriefing The Crew

7

DEbrIEFING THE CREW

Harlow

The benefit of Layla attending school in New York City too comes a few days later when she, Ethan and I are able to meet at a trendy new falafel shop on the upper edge of Manhattan.

I count down the hours all day until I can see them. Until I can tell them. I’m giddy to share with my best friends the plan I’ve concocted.

When I arrive at seven, I could burst with the details, but I’ve held in this secret for so long already. I can wait till I find just the right opening in the evening.

Once I’m inside, I spot Ethan. He’s corralled a high-top table by the window, and he’s as sharp as ever in jeans, a red Henley, and deliberately messy brown hair. “This is the best people-watching spot in the neighborhood,” he says as I join him, kissing his cheek.

“Good. And nice beard,” I say approvingly, patting his new scruff.

“Thanks. It works,” he says, with a casual shrug.

“On everyone, I bet,” I say.

He answers with you know it eyes.

Seconds later, Layla sails in, looking like a pinup, even in jeans and a polka-dot high-neck blouse.

Once she’s seated, the server swings by, and I order a bubbly water, while Ethan asks for a martini and Layla a mojito. The server checks their IDs, then, satisfied, says he’ll be back soon.

“The cocktails here are fantastic,” Ethan adds as the server walks away.

“And yet you ordered the most boring drink,” Layla says drily, chiding him.

“Please. Who ever said martinis were boring?” he asks with an eye roll.

“I say it,” Layla retorts, and I half want to tell them to stop ping-ponging because I have news , but I also love to watch their verbal games. I always have. So I let myself enjoy the show as a spectator. There will be time to share soon enough.

“Because mojitos are un-dull ?” he asks, with an arch of his brow.

“Mojitos are sexy,” she declares, then licks her red lips, because of course Layla wears red lipstick.

Ethan shoots her a doubtful stare. “So let me get this straight. You think some gorgeous guy is going to pick you up because you ordered a mojito?”

Layla shrugs playfully. “Studies have shown mojitos attract older men.”

He cracks up. “Well, then. Bring on the silver foxes,” he says, then turns to me, an expectant look in his hazel eyes. He drums his hands on the table, like he’s playing my walk-up song. “So, what do you want for your big day?”

“Let me guess. What every Upper East Sider wants,” Layla says. “Access to the first level of her trust fund.”

“But of course,” I laugh, since they know how mine is set up — some of it I can access this year, but most of it when I’m twenty- five. Hunter’s is the same way, though his payout on his twenty-first birthday was modest, so I’m not banking on these funds. Besides, I want to be my own woman. Make my own money. “Anyway, you know I just want to hang out with my favorite people on Saturday night,” I tell them.

Layla squeezes my arm affectionately. “And Saturday night is all about you, Harlow. But will you even be able to stay up past your bedtime?”

Yes, I’m the Goody Two-shoes of the group. “Gosh, I sure hope so.”

The server swings by with our drinks, and we thank him. When he’s gone, we toast to twenty-one, then we recap our plans for my birthday. We’re rounding up friends from Carlisle Academy, friends from college, friends from Layla and Ethan’s various summer internships.

“First, we’ll do dinner at J,” Layla says, then shudders in excitement. “I think my mother’s lawyer sold his soul to get us that rezzie.”

“J is only the hottest new restaurant in the city. Have you seen pics of the head chef?” Ethan asks, like the chef is the height of gossip.

“Tattoos and wild hair? The one who looks like the ultimate fuck boy?” Layla asks.

“As all good hot chefs should,” Ethan says.

“Yes, I’ve seen his social.” Layla mouths yum. “So, after we check out the chef, we’ll head to Edge in SoHo.”

“I got us on the VIP list,” Ethan adds.

Seriously. My friends are the best. “I love you guys,” I say with a happy sigh. Then, I can’t hold it in any longer. “I have something to tell you.”

They’re both focused on me instantly, eyes wide, chins propped on hands.

Butterflies wing through me, and I sip my fizzy water. Then, like the star in a heist flick assembling the crew for a job, I say, “So, I had this idea for what I want to do this summer…”

I lay it all out, and when I’ve given them the blueprint, I eagerly ask, “What do you think?”

Layla blows out a long, appreciative breath, shaking her head in admiration.

Ethan stands, then goes full supplicant and bows before me. “I’m not worthy.”

“Stahp, stahp,” I say, but I feel like a rock star.

“So, when will you do this?” Layla inquires.

Not soon enough.

I gulp. “I’ll ask tomorrow. I know where to find him. I’ll even bring my own cake.”

I have my birthday wish already planned.