Julie Olivia

While Fred and I meet at the front of the park with lazy smiles and travel mugs of coffee, Lorelei’s hands are free, and she’s running on nothing other than sheer sunshine. Or cocaine. I don’t know her life.

“Come on, y’all,” Bennett says. “He’s probably just lonely. Look at the guy.”
We all turn to stare at once.
“Yeah, he does have an old man feeding the pigeons kinda vibe,” Theo muses.
“Good,” Quinn and I say at the same time.

All I can think about is how Lorelei laughs.
And how she doesn’t laugh with me.
Not ever.