Molly considered this. She couldn’t really imagine the four of them having a meal together; at the same time, part of her felt relief that Jake was expressing an interest in meeting Hunter. He was finally showing a smidgen of curiosity—maybe even envy—like a boyfriend with a pulse.
“Okay.” She peeled the top off the yogurt and stuck it in the trash. “I’ll talk to Hunter and see if they’re free this weekend.”
That Friday, Molly put on a white dress with thin straps and her favorite gold hoops, and she and Jake headed to St. Anselm. It was a restaurant they’d been wanting to try for a while, a casual-but-trendy steak house on Metropolitan. Blair and Hunter were already at a table when they walked through the door, and Molly waved across the room.
“They’re early,” Jake mumbled under his breath, which smelled like the beer he’d been drinking earlier. He was in an awful mood. Danner Lane had played Bowery Ballroom the night before, and it was one of their most poorly attended shows of the summer.
“No,” Molly whispered, annoyed. “We’re ten minutes late.”
“Well, they’re weirdly on time.”
“Well, this dinner was your idea, Jake, so why don’t you cool it with the snark?”
She forced herself to smile as they approached the table. Hunter stood and kissed her on the cheek, then shook Jake’s hand.
“The famous Jake Danner.”
“Once upon a time,” Jake replied dryly.
“This is my girlfriend, Blair.” Hunter drew his arm in her direction.
Blair stood, her sleek strawberry-blond hair tumbling past her shoulders. She wore a flamingo-pink tunic and tailored white pants, her cobalt-blue eyes gleaming. She was startlingly pretty—prettier in person than in the Facebook photos Molly had stalked.
“I’ve heard so much about you.” Molly pulled her in for a hug, because suddenly that was the kind of girl she wanted to be in front of Blair—the overly friendly breed who hugged strangers upon meeting them. She could feel Jake staring at her, confused.
When the waiter slid up to their table, they all ordered martinis, except for Jake, who stuck with his regular whiskey on the rocks.
“I’ve been hearing about you for months, Hunter,” Jake started, cradling his drink, a derisive edge to his voice. “It’s good to finally meet the man my girlfriend spends so much time with.” He was wearing the same wrinkled Zeppelin T-shirt he’d worn the day before. He looked disheveled but good, obnoxiously good, better than Molly felt he deserved to look in that moment.
“I hope that’s not accusatory.” Hunter smiled uncomfortably. “I’m surprised we haven’t met sooner. Molly was my first friend in Williamsburg.”
Blair examined her nails—shellacked, bright coral.
“Not accusatory at all,” Jake said with a sardonic grin that sent a bolt of anger through Molly’s chest. She knew Jake wasn’t legitimately jealous, but he was acting like a jealous asshole anyway, simply because he could. Because he was bitter with the world and it was something to do.
“My friend Louise was at your San Francisco show in July,” Blair offered. “She loves the new album.”
“Louise may be the only one, I’m afraid.” Jake rubbed his jawline, which was scruffy. He hadn’t bothered to shave.
“I wouldn’t say that,” Hunter tried warmly. “‘Molly’s Song’ is a hit, obviously, but I also like ‘Gut Feeling’ and ‘Lost in Bushwick.’”
“You’re too kind.” Jake knocked back another sip of whiskey. Molly wanted to grab the drink and throw it in his face.
“Jake is just coming off a tough show at Bowery Ballroom last night.” Molly touched his arm. She could feel her cheeks burning with embarrassment. Jake was normally so warm with people he’d just met, especially her friends. Things were tense between the two of them—yes—but this cold, passive character sitting next to her was someone she didn’t recognize.
By the time the waitress came back to take their order, Jake’s whiskey was empty, and he ordered another. The rest of them had barely made dents in their martinis.
“It can’t be easy, your second album not being as well received as your first,” Hunter said, loosening his tie. “All that pressure. But hey, there’s always a third album, right?”
Molly smiled at him, grateful for his optimism, his kindness. Underneath the table, she pressed her heel down on the toe of Jake’s foot, daring him to produce a snarky response.