Chapter 19
L ola woke with her face buried in Renee’s neck. She was curled against Renee’s body like a melted big spoon, her stomach pressed into the mattress but her arm and leg splayed over the woman breathing evenly next to her.
Stars shot through her chest as she remembered last night. The kiss she’d waited for since she’d written “Star Sign”—a kiss that felt like finally being seen, without having to hide or pretend or impress. Like getting exactly what you wanted, without having to ask for it at all.
Then afterward … Lola had imagined having sex with Renee many times.
Hell, she’d actually done it before. And last night still managed to be better than any of that.
Never had she imagined Renee begging for her touch, or the vulnerable way Renee cried out as she came.
And then, what she did next—Lola had never fantasized about anything like that at all.
It had been as if Renee wanted to serve her, and it had made her feel safe and wildly desperate at the same time.
No one had ever made her feel that way—none of the men she’d dated, including Kyte, and certainly not Ava.
Lola grinned as she tried to extricate her limbs from Renee’s without waking her.
“Where’re you going?”
“Getting up.”
“No,” Renee groaned. “Why?”
“It’s late, almost ten.”
“So?”
Renee turned on her side so she was facing Lola and snuggled down into the bed, so her head was nestled below Lola’s chin, their breasts pressed together, their bellies, their legs, and all of it so lovely and soft.
“Don’t make me miss you,” Renee mumbled.
“Okay.” Lola smiled into the crown of Renee’s head.
Her answer was a contented sigh.
I T WAS AFTERNOON before they made it out of bed, after sex, sleepy and slow, hands moving over skin under the down duvet.
“I cannot believe you wanted to get up so early,” Renee said as she laid out the ingredients for an epic breakfast. “We have nowhere to be, plus there’s a three-hour time change.”
“I’m not used to lying around.” Lola passed Renee a mug of coffee. They’d quickly established that Lola was not suited to food prep duty. “And I didn’t expect you’d be so into snuggling.”
“I’m usually not,” Renee admitted.
Lola bit her lip, pleased. “Well, usually I have a hard time sleeping with someone else in the bed.”
Renee looked up from the onion she was chopping. “Shit, I’m sorry—do you want one of the other beds?”
“ No ,” Lola said. “Absolutely not. I slept great. I feel incredible, honestly.”
Renee’s grin was crooked, satisfied but still hungry, and Lola knew she was wearing the same expression. She slid in behind Renee and ran her hands up her back.
“Stop that, or we’re never going to have anything to eat,” Renee said, even as she pressed her hips against Lola’s.
Because Lola was also hungry for food, she dropped a kiss between Renee’s shoulder blades, then gave her space in the kitchen.
She explored the living room, looking at family photos, a TV with an old DVD player, shelves stuffed with worn paperbacks and board games.
In the corner, an acoustic guitar leaned against the wall.
She brushed her thumb experimentally across the strings. It was a battered thing, the varnish worn and one of the pegs chipped.
“That’s Dave’s,” Renee said. “I’m sure he’d love it if you played it.”
“Maybe I’ll go tune it on the deck while you finish cooking?” Lola said tentatively.
“I’ll bring everything out when it’s ready.”
Lola pulled on a fleece and, outside, settled into an Adirondack chair in full sunlight. She tuned the guitar, then let her fingers wander over the strings as she watched the lake. The water was a thousand shades of blue, the quiet punctuated only by her playing and the warble of birds.
When Renee had suggested they escape L.A.
, Lola hadn’t really believed it would achieve much.
She’d been so overwhelmed, she’d have agreed to go anywhere.
She’d never done anything remotely like this before—running off without even her security, asking Cassidy to cancel her obligations, texting Gloriana that she’d be unreachable for a few days at Renee’s family lake house.
Once they were on the plane, she’d imagined it might be a nice break, before she finally confessed to Gloriana that the songwriting part of her brain was broken.
As for her and Renee, she hadn’t dared to hope for anything.
Lola had not once considered that she might actually feel peaceful here—that that was what Renee had wanted to give her.
One day and, already, the sharp mid-autumn sunlight and quiet rustling of the trees, stirred by the breeze from the lake, made the demands of her career and the people who issued them feel so distant.
Renee had threatened not to give her the Wi-Fi password, but Lola didn’t even want it now.
Her phone was somewhere inside—wherever they’d dropped their things last night.
No deadlines, no publicity, no fans, no record labels, no manager, no team. Just her and Renee.
Her and Renee.
Four more days of this. Already she wanted more.
Lola was picking out a melody when Renee appeared with plates of scrambled eggs and potatoes with onions and bacon, a bottle of ketchup under her arm, and set them on the weathered table.
“What are you playing?” she asked.
“Nothing, just messing around,” Lola said as she set the guitar aside.
They ate in easy silence, watching the water.
Renee cleared her throat. “We need to talk.”
“About us?”
Renee was digging her thumbnail into the grooved wood of the table. It made Lola nervous. “Yeah, I—when I invited you here, I didn’t think last night would happen. I didn’t plan that.”
“I liked last night. And this morning.”
Renee’s hand stilled. “I did too. I really liked it, Lo.”
“So what’s wrong?”
“Nothing. I mean, um—usually, when it’s just sex, I’m chill.
Like I know how to keep it uncomplicated.
But this is … It’s more than just sex to me.
And we’re not only friends either. I mean, it’s been amazing to reconnect and find our old friendship again, but if I’m being honest, I don’t see you like a friend anymore.
” Renee scrubbed a hand through her hair.
“God, why is this so difficult? What I’m trying to say is, I like you, Lo. ”
Lola bit her lip. “You were really onto something when you said I like it when you’re nervous.”
“Lo! I’m being vulnerable here.”
“I know, I’m sorry.” She reached over and stilled Renee’s hand. She had flaked off long splinters of weathered wood. “I like you too.”
“You do?” Renee’s eyes widened.
“Come on! Why do you think I took you back to my hotel at the wedding?”
“Because you were horny, and I was there?”
“You were more than just there ,” Lola said. Her head was buzzing. “To be honest, I had a huge crush on you in high school, Renee. That night was meant to get it out of my system.”
Renee laughed. “Jeez, Lo, I already admitted I like you. You don’t need to make up some love story.”
“I’m not making it up. You’re the first girl I ever fell for.”
“But I can’t be,” Renee said softly. “I was a raging mess back then.”
“I know. It was kind of hot. I spent every waking minute trying to make other people happy, and you just didn’t give a damn.”
“At least I impressed someone.” Renee grimaced. “Come here.”
She tugged Lola into her lap, her arm easily fitting around the small of Lola’s back. Lola clung to Renee’s shoulder and kissed her, slow and deep. Renee’s lashes fluttered against her cheek and Lola promised herself she’d remember that featherlight touch as long as she lived.
Renee broke away. “Wait, Lo—have you ever written a song about me?”
Lola froze, which lit Renee’s face with delight.
“ Seriously? On Seventeen Candles ? Which one?”
“Yes, on Seventeen Candles .” Her face was hot. “More than one song. It’s like … half the album.”
Renee blinked at her.
“Actually, maybe a little more than half?” she squeaked.
She couldn’t believe she was admitting this.
“You have to understand, that crush was severe . I thought I’d never get over it.
I guess I kind of never did? Sorry, I hope that’s not too much—it was so long ago and you were never supposed to find out. ”
“It’s not too much. You could never be too much.” Renee wove her fingers into Lola’s, then set a kiss on her knuckles. “Do you remember the night we watched the meteor shower?”
“Of course.” Lola’s heart was suddenly too big for her chest. “I sing about it all the time.”
The way Renee was gazing back at her was nothing short of luminous.
“That’s my favorite song.” Renee kissed her. “It’s my favorite song in the history of songs.”
They left the dishes on the deck for the birds to pick at.
T HEY SPENT THE rest of the day snuggled on the couch under blankets and took turns picking old DVDs from the collection: Notting Hill , which Lola could recite lines from, and Wild Things , which Renee said was “not supposed to be here.” The movies didn’t hold their attention.
Once Lola was in Renee’s lap, it was a guarantee that later, they’d spend ten minutes searching for the last scene they remembered.
Renee refused to lift Lola’s ban from the kitchen.
She was assigned drinks duty instead, so at night they drank the two cocktails Lola could make: Manhattans and chilled white wine.
She simply let herself enjoy watching Renee move around the kitchen, and how her forearms rippled as she handled a knife or flicked her wrist to toss ingredients in a pan.
Afterward, Lola queued up songs that she loved over the speaker.
She tried very hard to be nonchalant about Renee’s opinion of them, but it was like introducing old friends you desperately wanted to get along.
Renee asked Lola what she liked about each.
Lola would begin explaining the structure of the bridge or semantic fields of the lyrics, but always ended up yelping, “It’s the greatest love song of all time! ”