"The Acquisition"

A Hanukkah party, an ex, and a rash decision to fake a relationship with a cute stranger. By Lindsay Hameroff.

Hannah says:

Picture this: It’s been three months since you and your ex broke up, you’re walking into your friend’s Hanukkah party, and you spot him with his new girlfriend. What do you do — hide in the bushes? Stride in, single and proud? In “The Acquisition,” our girl Becca makes a very different move: she pays the handsome stranger in her Uber a cool $300 to pretend to be her boyfriend. I’m so glad she did.

This story by Lindsay Hameroff, author of the forthcoming Till There Was You, is heartwarming, hopeful, funny, and delightfully festive. Grab a latke and enjoy.

“The Acquisition”

If you think about it, romantic relationships aren’t so different from financial mergers. In both instances, you start out with two separate entities, brought together with the intention of fusing them into a single unit. True mergers, like successful love stories, are few and far between, since it’s rare for both parties to mutually benefit during consolidation. More often than not, what you end up with is an acquisition, wherein one company simply takes over another. It’s comparable to say, a 33-year-old man taking over his girlfriend’s one-bedroom apartment on Park Avenue South, marking his newly acquired territory with a trail of sweaty gym shorts and empty cans of White Claw that never quite make it to the recycling bin. 

And should the aforementioned man fail to secure said merger with the appropriate legal actions (namely, signing a marriage certificate), the transaction will inevitably fall through. This can result in catastrophic consequences, including, but not limited to, increased rent payments, deteriorating self-esteem, and worst of all, having to attend holiday parties without a date. It’s a scenario so dire it should probably be adopted into every business school’s curriculum. 

Tonight is my best friend Emily’s annual Hanukkah party, or as I’ve come to think of it, the first holiday function I’ll be attending solo this season. It’s also the reason I left the office two hours early to squeeze in a quick visit to DryBar and am currently en route to Brooklyn in an UberX Share, which, in my haste, I accidentally called instead of an Uber Comfort. Unfortunately, being an American Jew means no one recognizes our holidays, which is why, even though I’m on PTO, my phone is once again ringing. 

A quick glimpse down at my phone confirms it’s my CFO. Again. I bite my lip as I glance at my fellow passenger in the SUV’s third row. He’s bent over the paperback in his lap, and I feel a stab of guilt for knowing I’m about to be That Person, the one who takes phone calls in a shared space. 

The phone continues to vibrate in my hand. With a resigned sigh, I tap accept. 

“Hey Tim,” I say as quietly as possible. “Everything okay?”

“Geller!” he barks by way of greeting. He’s slightly out of breath, and I picture him in his Danish modern office, feet stomping on the treadmill beneath his desk. 

“Did you finish that model I asked for? 

“I emailed it to you before I left today, and triple-checked to confirm we’re cash flow- positive. But I’m actually out of the office now, because it’s—”

“We’ve gotta make this deal happen, Geller. We can’t lose out to Discovery+ again.”

“I completely agree,” I say. “Trust me, we can easily work a 60% conversion. And I’m happy to talk about this more on Monday, but right now—” But the line has already gone dead. 

I take a steadying breath. It’s typical for my boss to call me in a panic, rattling off whatever stream of consciousness is going through his mind. Normally it doesn’t bother me. But it’s Hanukkah, and it would be nice, for once, to have my holiday acknowledged beyond Target's single, shitty shelf of picked-over dreidels and the boxes of stale matzah that are inexplicably trotted out for every Jewish celebration. No one would think about calling me right now if it were Christmas.

As I tuck the phone into my purse, I toss an apologetic look to the guy in the back. “Sorry about that,” I say. 

The guy lifts his eyes from his book to look at me. He’s got a head of thick, dark hair, and a scruffy five-o-clock shadow bordering a square jaw. He’s pretty cute, actually. Though it’s kind of hard to tell in the dark.

“No worries,” he says with a small smile. “Sounds like you’ve got an important job. Something in finance, I’m guessing?”

I nod, my shoulders straightening with pride. I love what I do and enjoy any opportunity to talk about it. “I’m the VP of Strategic Finance for The Innovation Network. We’re about to close a major deal that we’ve been working on around the clock. But my CFO hasn’t quite gotten the memo that ‘I’m out of office’ means ‘I’m unavailable to work right now. Like seriously, do not call me.’” 

The corner of Uber Guy’s mouth twitches in amusement. “I know what you mean. Pretty sure if I dropped dead at work, they’d just prop me up, Weekend at Bernie’s-style, until I finished my shift.” I snort and his grin widens. Damn, he’s cute and he’s got a sense of humor? A truly rare combination. I haven’t clocked myself noticing someone like this since Caleb. 

My amusement fades a decimal point at the thought of my ex. This is the first time in years I’ll be at Emily’s party without him, and I feel a stab of apprehension at the thought of going alone. Caleb was always the fun one, the extrovert who could easily work a room full of people he only sees twice a year. Me? Not so much.

I take a deep breath, grounding myself as I do a quick calculation. It’s nearly 6 p.m. now. If I put in two hours at this party, I can be back in an Uber by 8, and in bed watching The Great British Baking Show in approximately one hundred and sixty minutes. It’s less than ideal, but it’s doable. 

I’m still fantasizing about which post-socializing sweatsuit I’m going to crawl into when the car rolls to a stop in front of Emily’s Williamsburg brownstone. I grab my purse and turn back to my Uber mate again.

“Well, this is me. It was nice to meet you…?”

“Ben,” he says, extending a hand. 

“Becca,” I reply, shaking it. My hand tingles in the spot where his skin presses into mine, and I stifle a gasp. I’ve never felt sparks like that with anyone before, much less a complete stranger. Must be all the static electricity.

I thank the driver and am just about to step out of the car when I spot an all-too-familiar figure approaching Emily’s doorway. It’s Caleb, my ex. And he’s not alone, either. He’s hand-in-hand with Addyson, a petite redhead I recognize from his office. Suddenly, I have an overwhelming urge to launch myself headfirst back into the Uber.

Somehow, it hadn’t occurred to me that Caleb would be here. But of course he is—he’s friends with Emily’s fiancé. Whom he met through me. My insides flare with an unpleasant heat. We’ve only been broken up for three months, and he’s already showing up at my best friend’s party with a date?

I hate the feeling of insecurity bubbling in my stomach. I’ve always prided myself on being cool, confident, and collected. And most days, I am. My unflappable demeanor is one of the reasons I’m the youngest member of our executive team. Unfortunately, my breakup with Caleb put a dent in my hard-earned self-assurance. Which means my confidence is currently melting away faster than a Mr. Softee cone on a July afternoon. 

I can’t go in there alone. I just can’t. Something takes hold of me, and before my mouth has a chance to catch up to my brain, I whip my attention back to Ben.

“I know this sounds crazy. But do you have plans tonight?”

Ben’s head pops up again, and his eyes are wide. “Uh, what?”

 The driver turns to the backseat. “Ma’am? Isn’t this your stop?”

“Just one sec!” I call back. I turn to Ben. “Proposition for you,” I say. “An acquisition of sorts. I pay you $200, and you come with me to this party.”

Ben’s forehead furrows in confusion. “Are you trying to Pretty Woman me? Because I’m not sure what kind of impression I’ve made on you so far, but that’s not really my deal.”

I shake my head impatiently. “I’m going to my friend’s Hanukkah party, and my ex just walked in. I can’t go in there without a date. Please, I’m desperate. The offer has just gone up to $300.”

“A Hanukkah party?” Something unreadable crosses Ben’s face–maybe he’s never been to a Jewish event before? But after a moment, he nods his head.

“Okay, sure.”

“Really?” I can’t hide the shock in my voice. I’m great at pitches, but I didn’t think I was this good. But before he can change his mind, I grab him by the hand, throw the door open, and drag him out with me.

When Ben unfolds himself onto the sidewalk, his boots crunching on the icy cement, I finally get a good look at him. My first impression is that he’s tall. Like, really tall. Like, I barely come up to his shoulders tall. Like, he could easily close that cabinet door over my fridge, the one I can never reach without a broom handle and gumption tall. And he’s even better looking than I initially thought, with a broad chest and shoulders that fill out his navy sweater so perfectly it looks like it was custom-made for him. 

I’m so busy staring that I fail to notice I’ve stepped directly onto a patch of ice until I feel the sidewalk give out beneath me. My arms windmill at my sides as I struggle fruitlessly to regain my balance. But before I fall, two enormous hands grab hold of me, and I slam into Ben’s solid chest. 

“Don’t worry,” he says, his voice husky against my ear. “I’ve got you.”

When I lift my head, my eyes lock on his, and it’s the first time I notice what a mesmerizing color they are, golden brown like two pools of melted caramel, and framed by thick, dark lashes. Slowly, I drink in the rest of him: the sharp edges of his jawline, the pair of birthmarks on his right cheek, the lock of dark hair that’s slipped over his forehead. God, he’s dreamy. 

His full lips part as if he’s about to say something, but no words come out. Instead, his concerned eyes scan my face, as if he’s checking to make sure all my features are in order. Then, he clears his throat and releases me gently. 

“I think you’re going to live,” he says, as he takes a step back. My heart is hammering against my chest, and my typically above-average vocabulary is drawing a blank.

“Yes, thank you,” I finally manage. He offers me his elbow, and after a moment of hesitation, I slip my arm through it. 

“So, Becca,” Ben says, as we begin walking gingerly up the sidewalk, careful to sidestep another patch of ice. “What’s our backstory?”

I stop in my tracks. “Our what?”

“You know. Have we just been dating for a few weeks, or are we a couple? Is marriage on the horizon, or is this still new? Do we live in a pet-free building, or did we just adopt a three-legged dog named Triple Sec who only has months left to live, but needs the love of a good family? Because if you’re going to be introducing me to people at this party, we should probably have our story straight.”

Panic washes over me as I contemplate his words. Oh god. There are so many details I haven’t accounted for. Not to mention I don’t even know the first thing about this guy. There’s no way in hell we’ll pull this off. Sinking down on the brownstone’s stoop, I bury my head in my hands. 

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I went too far with the dog. That was insensitive. Triple Sec has a long, happy life ahead of him.” Instead of answering, I let out a groan. A moment later, I feel the warmth of his body as he sits down next to me. 

“Hey, are you okay?” he asks. 

I drag my fingers off my face and stare at him. “Yes. No. Not really? I’m sort of mortified, to be honest. I’m not normally like this.”

Ben tilts his head to study me. “Not normally like what?”

“Not normally so…impulsive. Rash. Desperate. In fact, I’m generally the opposite of all those things. I’ve been promoted twice in the past year. I’m kind of a badass. In every other instance than this one, of course.”

And it’s true. It’s wildly out of character for me to do anything without careful consideration of all factors. I literally spend half of my day calculating risk. Why on earth would I choose this moment to do something so reckless? 

I blow out a sigh. “My boyfriend and I broke up three months ago. We’d been together for five years. I haven’t run into him since we ended things, and I just saw him walking into this party. With a date.” I put a hard emphasis on the last word to highlight the egregious nature of it all, like it’s truly unfathomable that Caleb could do such a thing. Though if I’m honest with myself, it isn’t so unfathomable at all. 

“The truth is, I don’t blame him,” I admit. “I work all the time, and he was tired of feeling like he came second. He basically told me I needed to choose: him or my job. And based on the fact I’m here alone, you can guess which one I picked.” 

Ben frowns at me, brows scrunching together like he’s trying to work something out. Most likely, he’s trying to figure out what possessed him to follow me out of the car in the first place.

“I’m sorry,” I say quietly. “This was all a huge mistake. Let me call you another Uber. I’ll still Venmo your payment, of course. I’m so sorry to have messed up your evening.” 

But as soon as I pull out my phone, Ben presses his long fingers against the back of my hand to lower it. Another small zing runs through my body at the point of contact. The static electricity really is running high tonight. Must be all the sweaters.

“I’m not leaving,” he says. His voice is soft but firm. “I made you a promise, and I don’t go back on my word.” I lift my head and when our eyes meet his again, I notice something familiar behind them. There’s sympathy, but it’s something else too. Empathy. A sense of understanding. 

 He leans back to balance himself on his palms, and his shoulder brushes against mine. There’s something about his presence that’s oddly comforting, and I have the sudden desire to curl up against him. Which makes no sense at all, considering we’ve known each other for all of ten minutes. 

“My girlfriend and I broke up earlier this year,” he says quietly. He’s not looking at me anymore, his gaze fixed instead on the night sky. “My job required me to move to New York, and she didn’t want to follow me. It kind of wrecked me, to be honest.” The sadness in his voice stirs an ache in my chest.

“What did you do?” I ask after a beat.

“I seriously considered quitting. But at the end of the day, I chose my career, too. And I let her go.” He fixes his gaze on me. “So, I know what you’re going through. Feeling like work always comes first.”

“Do you think we’re doomed to be alone forever? Like, maybe some people are career people, and some people are romance people, and we're the ones who are destined to spend the holidays gift-wrapped in spreadsheets, warmed by the light of our computer monitors?”

Ben gives his head a slight shake. “Maybe. But I like to think it doesn’t have to be one or the other. Maybe it’s as simple as this: we just haven’t found the right people yet.” His words spark something inside me, reigniting a sense of resolution, and my body straightens.

“Okay,” I say. “Back to the assignment at hand. Things between us are new. We met a few weeks ago on…the subway?”

“In an Uber,” he smirks. “The best lies are the ones grounded in truth.” 

“Okay,” I concede, grinning back. “Let’s do this.” I stand up, brushing a speck of snow-melting salt off my jeans, and accept Ben’s arm again. 

When we step through the front door, we’re immediately assaulted by the aromatic tangle of booze and burning wax. My friend Emily is standing a few feet away, wearing the ugly Hanukkah sweater emblazoned with the words “Too Lit To Quit” that she pulls out every year. 

“Hey!” she calls, brushing past a tinsel Star of David that’s hanging from the ceiling and wrapping me in a hug. When she pulls back, she stares up at Ben expectedly. “Sorry, I don’t think we’ve met?” 

“Emily, this is Ben–” I pause, suddenly realizing I have no idea what his last name is. “Ben,” I repeat, more resolutely this time. “My, uh…boyfriend.” 

Emily squints at me, with a look that says, What on earth are you talking about? The only boyfriend you have these days is your Thai food delivery guy. But then she rearranges her face into a polite smile and looks back at Ben. “It’s great to meet you, Ben,” she says. “Becca has told me absolutely nothing about you.” Ben laughs and Emily shoots him a satisfied grin.

“Food and drinks are in the kitchen. Why don’t you head on in while I interrogate your beloved.” Ben gives her a quick salute, then brushes through the crowd before disappearing into the kitchen. I feel an odd twinge of loss as I watch him go, but before I can think much into it, Emily turns back to me, her expression expectant. “Explain.”

I blow out a sigh. We may talk less than we used to lately, but we’ve been best friends since the seventh grade, and it’s virtually impossible to lie to the person who taught you how to insert a tampon. I don’t know why I even tried.

“We met ten minutes ago in an Uber Share.” I say without preamble. “I saw Caleb walking in and I panicked. Why didn’t you tell me he would be here?”

“Shit, I knew I should have texted you,” she says. “But I figured you’d expect him, given that he’s Andrew’s teammate and all.”

I roll my eyes. “When are you going to tell your fiancé that fantasy football is not a real sport?” 

Emily crosses her arms. “Look, I don’t want that douche-kabob here any more than you do. But it looks like you’re doing all right for yourself.” She narrows her eyes. “How did you convince a stranger to come to a party with you, anyway?”

“I offered him $300.”

Emily lets out a low whistle. “You Pretty Woman-ed him.”

“Why does everyone keep saying that?” I mumble. “It was a simple asset purchase.”

Emily tilts her head, regarding me carefully. “This is a very out-of-character move for you,” she observes. 

“Tell me about it.”

“I’m proud of you, though. Taking a risk from time to time is good for you. And he likes you. I can tell.”

I shake my head. “He doesn’t even know me. And if he did, we’d last for about five minutes before he realized he doesn’t have any interest in being with a woman who spends sixteen hours a day in the office.”

Emily purses her lips, which are already stained purple with wine. “I’m not so sure. I saw the way he was looking at you. I have a good feeling about this one.”

“I think you’re just drunk on Manischewitz,” I say. 

She shrugs as she takes another swig of the dark liquid in her glass. “You’d better catch up then. Go make yourself a drink. And find that cute date of yours.”

It isn’t hard to find Ben when I enter the kitchen, considering he’s about a head taller than everyone else in there. He’s standing in front of the marble island, surveying its contents, and something flutters in my chest when I catch sight of him. As if he senses my presence, Ben’s head pops up and his eyes warm as they meet mine. Emily’s words echo back in my head. Is he looking at me in a special way? And do I want him to be?

“There you are,” he says. “I need an opinion.” He gestures towards a beverage dispenser containing an unnaturally blue liquid. 

“What do you think? Should I try this—” he squints at the affixed label— “Jewnicorn Punch?”

I wrinkle my nose. “I don’t know. How brave are you feeling?” His gaze locks with mine. “Braver than usual.” A long beat passes as we stare at each other. Then he grabs a plastic cup, fills it to the brim, and takes a long gulp.

“Wow,” he says, pulling back with a grimace. “That tastes like diabetes.”

“Try the latkes,” I suggest. “My friend Ali makes them. She’s in culinary school, so she knows what she’s doing. She actually hand-grates the potatoes.”

“Impressive.” Ben grabs a plate and starts loading them with the crispy brown cakes. I follow suit, pausing in surprise when I notice him covering each one with a chunky maroon topping.

“Cranberry applesauce? I thought I was the only one who ever goes for that.” 

Ben grins. “It’s the best way to eat a latke! Of course, this sauce can’t hold a candle to my mom’s. She makes hers from scratch. Like your friend.”

Something turns over in my brain as I process his words. “You’re…Jewish? 

He squints at me. “You seem shocked.”

My brain flashes back over the night's events as I attempt to parse out the origin of my confusion. “It’s just…when I told you this was a Hanukkah party, you looked befuddled.”

A flush creeps up Ben’s cheeks. “I guess I was sort of in shock,” he admits. “I was in the cab because I’d just taken my family back to the train. They came in from Philly for the day as a compromise for spending the holiday apart. With my crazy work schedule, I couldn’t go visit them this weekend, which means I’m missing our annual Hanukkah dinner. So, when you asked me to come with you tonight it seemed…oddly serendipitous.”

Our eyes meet again as magic crackles through the air, braiding itself through the lingering scent of frying oil. I’ve just opened my mouth to reply when a figure appears in my line of vision, causing my stomach muscles to contract. “Oh god, there he is,” I murmur. “That’s Caleb, my ex.”

Ben turns to follow my line of vision. “That’s him? That’s the guy you were so worked up about seeing tonight?” He arches an eyebrow. “He looks like he needs a step stool to reach his box of Captain Crunch in the morning.”

“First of all, Caleb doesn’t eat cereal because he can’t process gluten. And second, watch yourself with the short jokes, okay? What our people, excluding you, obviously, lack in stature, we make up for in scholastic aptitude. Caleb is about to make partner in his dad’s law firm.”

Ben snorts. “I bet that was a rigorous screening process.” 

“He looks great, right?” I continue. “I mean half the guys I went to high school with are already bald. But he still looks like the kind of person you can’t stop staring at.”

 I feel Ben’s eyes burning into the side of my face. I get the sense he’s about to say something, but then Caleb's ocean-blue eyes lock with mine, and everything else fades to a blur. I watch as he whispers something in Addyson’s ear, and a moment later, he’s crossing the room to stand in front of me.

“Becs,” he says, pulling me into a hug. The familiar vanilla scent of his Tom Ford cologne washes over me. “It’s been too long.” 

He turns to Ben, and he sticks out a hand. “Hey man, I’m Caleb.”

“Ben,” he replies, and I notice his jaw tighten slightly as he encircles an enormous hand around Caleb’s smaller one. It might be my imagination, but I’m pretty sure Caleb winces slightly.

“So,” Caleb says, as he gingerly extracts his hand. “I see you aren’t glued to your phone this evening. Does this mean you’ve finally decided to quiet-quit The Innovation Network?” 

I open my mouth to reply, but no words come out, and I feel myself deflate slightly. How can I be so strong at work, yet never manage to stand up for myself in my personal life? I’m still struggling to summon a comeback when I hear Ben’s voice beside me.

“Hardly. Becca’s crushing it at work. And she’s just about to close another huge acquisition.” Ben drapes an arm around me, and I feel my pulse skitter. There’s something about the way he says my name that makes me feel tingly all over. But it’s more than that, too. It feels good to hear a man gush over my career accomplishments. Caleb always discouraged me from talking about work, insisting shop talk was best left at the office.

Caleb turns to Ben. “You guys work together?”

“Ben’s a doctor,” I blurt out. Seriously, what is with me tonight? If this web of lies gets any more complex, I’m going to start weaving “Some Pig” above the doorway.

But Ben just smiles, totally unflustered by my bluff. 

“She’s being generous. I am technically a doctor, but I’m only a few months into my residency. Pediatric oncology is a long road.” My eyes widen as I stare up at him, thoroughly impressed. It is a truth universally acknowledged that “doctor” is the only career that trumps “lawyer” in Jewish thumb war, and for once, Caleb looks cowed. Suddenly, $300 feels like a bargain. In fact, it may be the best investment I’ve ever made.

Just then, Addyson sidles up to Ben. 

“Baby,” she coos, slipping her arm through Caleb’s. “We’re making teams for  Drunken Dreidels. You in?”

He smiles at her before nodding, and then turns back to me. “It was good to see you, Becca. And I’m glad things are going well. You seem really happy.”

“I’ve never been happier,” I reply, and the moment the words leave my mouth, I realize they’re true. Sure, my CFO drives me crazy, but I love what I do, and I’m grateful every day that I get to be a part of something bigger than myself. 

And just like that, the sense of apprehension I felt about seeing Caleb tonight evaporates. Both of us have landed exactly where we should have. Caleb’s found someone who can give him what he needs, and I get to pursue my dream career without downplaying my accomplishments for someone else’s benefit. 

Ben’s words from earlier ring back in my head. Maybe it doesn’t have to be one or the other. Maybe I just haven’t found the right person yet, someone who’d let my wings expand as far as they’re meant to. Hope flutters in my chest at the prospect.

After Caleb excuses himself, I turn to Ben, slack-jawed. “Okay, that was seriously impressive. How did you come up with that tall tale on the spot?”

The corner of Ben’s mouth lifts. “Easy. I didn’t. I really am a peds-onc intern at Bellevue. Just started my residency in July.” My jaw, already hanging open, hits the floor. 

“And you didn’t think to mention this?”

Ben’s grin widens. “You never asked.” 

This is not real. 

“Let me just make sure I have this right. I meet a random guy in an Uber, ask him to pretend to be my boyfriend, and it turns out he’s a handsome, Jewish doctor? Is this some sort of Jewish reality show? Is my mother here? There’s no way she’s not in on this.” 

Ben laughs. “As far as I’m aware, there is no reality show.” 

Flummoxed, I shake my head. There’s simply no reasonable explanation for any of this. Is it fate? A fever dream? Or could it be…a Hanukkah miracle?

I don’t know what else to say at this point, so I stick out my hand for Ben to shake.

“Well, sir. This has been a very successful transaction. It’s been my absolute pleasure doing business with you tonight.”

Instead of shaking my hand, Ben just frowns at it. A long beat passes, then another. I’m starting to wish the floor would open and swallow me whole, but then Ben takes a step towards me, closing the space between us as he presses his lips to mine. 

The kiss is slow at first, gentle and savoring. But then I’m knotting my fist in his sweater, rising on my tiptoes to pull him closer. He groans softly, the sound low in his throat, and he slides his fingers into my hair, angling my face upwards. My legs turn to water, and I’m grateful when I feel Ben’s arm circle my back, cinching me to him.

I’m not sure how much time passes. A minute? An hour? When he finally breaks away, Ben’s cheeks are flushed and his breath ragged. My heartbeat is hammering erratically in my chest as we stare at each other, and then, to my utter mortification, I hear myself say, “I hope you don’t think I’m paying extra for that.” 

Ben blinks at me, and then bursts into laughter. He shakes his head with amusement. “Always the businesswoman.”

I shrug. “I am who I am. It’s an acquired taste.”

The corner of Ben’s mouth kicks up as he tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. “Well, I happen to like who you are very much. Especially if you’re willing to negotiate a holiday discount.”

“I think something could be arranged.”

Ben grins, dipping his head forward to kiss me again.

“Happy Hanukkah, Becca.”

“Happy Hanukkah, Ben.”

Lindsay Hameroff is a romance writer and humorist living in Harrisburg, PA. Her debut novel Till There Was You will be published in Spring 2024.

Next week on Heartbeat, get ready for a short story from Lillie Vale, author of The Decoy Girlfriend.

Follow Heartbeat on Instagram at @storiesbyheartbeat for upcoming behind-the-scenes sneak peeks at Lillie’s story!

Three quick things from Hannah:

1. My mom and I are heading to Florida for a long weekend in the sun. I love reading poolside, and I plan to devour Lauryn Chamberlain’s Who We Are Now, which tells the story of one friend group over 15 years. (Out in August, available for preorder now.)

2. I edited a romance-y piece for Bustle recently: It’s Hot When People Can Do Mental Math. If there are any other niche things we should explore, tell me! Previously, we dove into why It’s Hot When Guys Go To Therapy. I know, I know, I do very important journalism.

3. My friend Ann Shoket has a tradition of choosing one word to set her intentions for the upcoming year, and every December, I have fun choosing mine. For 2022, I went with happiness. (It worked! Standout moments: Dancing on tabletops with my sister in Mykonos; the day my friends and I got matching bracelets welded on for a permanent tribute to our friendship; drinking a full glass of wine while standing in the ocean and channeling my inner Rihanna.) This year, I’m going with growth. Drop yours in the comments.

What did you think of this week’s story? Let us know!