3. Lila
THREE
Lila
“How many fourteeners have you summited?” Dave, a clean-cut guy who liked to talk about himself a little too much, looked at me expectantly from across the white-clothed table. The restaurant was entirely too fancy for a first date, but Dave had turned down all of my other suggestions. The scents of roses and linen wafted through the air instead of sizzling meats or pastas, and the whole sensation was making me a bit dizzy.
“None yet.” I forced a smile. “I find it a little hard to breathe when the elevation is that high. I do like to hike, though,” I added quickly.
Conversation wasn’t exactly flowing, but I had to admit that he was even better looking than his profile picture promised he’d be. While I didn’t want to be shallow, I also didn’t want to write him off before our waiter even had a chance to deliver our menus to the table.
Dave pursed his lips in disappointment. “Man, there’s nothing like a fourteener. The challenge. The climb. It’s breathtaking up there.” He said it like somehow every fourteen-thousand-foot-high mountain offered the same experience, instead of being completely separate and distinct places. “It’s like seeing a whole different side of the world. You really haven’t experienced hiking until you’ve done a fourteener.”
The grin stayed frozen across my face as he continued listing each fourteener he had summited since he’d moved to Denver two years ago. When the yawn came bubbling to the surface, I did my best to cover my mouth to hide it.
“I’ll have to take you on one someday.”
“Oh, that’s alright.” My voice fell flat as I tried to discreetly check the time on my grandmother’s vintage watch, the one I always wore for luck. In hindsight, given how dreadfully these dates typically went, maybe it was cursed. I made a mental note to experiment with leaving it behind next time.
Dave seemed a little put off at my response. He took a large sip of the beer in front of him as he searched for another topic of conversation.
Dating was hard, but dating in Denver when you were eager to settle down and move into something serious? Impossible. Every man I met had just moved here to find themselves and live out whatever outdoorsy fantasy they had curated. Usually, a girlfriend was the last thing on their minds, and despite my profile explicitly stating, “Looking for something serious,” that somehow didn’t deter every self-proclaimed smooth talker with extensive commitment issues from asking me out.
You’d think I’d be better at weeding them out by now. But nope. Here I was, still stuck going out with the same cliché, over and over again.
“So,” Dave continued, tapping his fingers against his glass before his eyes lit up at whatever just crossed his mind. “I’m thinking about buying an old van and fixing it up. You know, people live in them nowadays.”
Voices drifted out of my bungalow as soon as I wedged open the door with my hip. The scents of lavender candles and buttery popcorn were the first things to hit me.
“Um, help, intruders!” I pretended to lean outside and yell as Charlie and Oliver sat on my tiny plush-pink loveseat, deep in conversation, tossing popcorn into their mouths. “That key was for emergencies,” I scolded half-heartedly, reaching down to slip off my black heels. I padded barefoot across the wood floor before they finally looked up.
“It was an emergency,” Charlie said.
Oliver flashed me a smile and waved. “Yeah, we were bored.”
I had rented this place for a couple of years before my landlord—a sweet, elderly woman who, despite referring to me as her surrogate granddaughter, never could remember my name—offered to sell it to me. It only had two bedrooms and one bathroom. Two people could barely squeeze into the tight kitchen, and the front door opened straight into the small living room that couldn’t even fit a three-seater couch. But I loved this place more than anything. It was home.
I ruffled Oliver’s hair on my way past them to the end of the room that led to a small hallway. The door to my bedroom was already open, so I slipped in. The pair of sweatpants I had been wearing earlier lay on my bed where I’d tossed them, along with a few T-shirts I had just washed but not yet folded or put away. I unzipped the dress and let it fall to the floor before tossing on the comfortable clothes. The cotton grazing my skin made me shiver with contentment.
“What are you two really doing here?” I asked when I came back into the room and dramatically flung myself over my vintage floral-print armchair.
“Oliver came over looking for Nathan,” Charlie explained.
“But only Charlie was there,” Oliver said.
“Nathan’s off with Ben. Ben’s trying to talk him into a new business venture or something.”
Damn, couldn’t those two just relax? I guess I was one to talk, considering I had mountains of work to do on several projects myself.
“Then I suggested we pop over to your house and see what you were up to,” Charlie finished.
“And when you saw that I wasn’t here you just thought you’d make yourself comfortable?”
“We knew you’d appreciate seeing our faces the moment you walked through the door.” Oliver blinked a few times while smiling at me in an attempt to look adorable.
“Where were you, anyway?” Charlie asked. “I figured you were out grabbing groceries, not out and about in your little black dress.”
“Oh, you know, just wrapping up the Friday night usual—a date from hell.” I tried to keep my tone light and free of guilt, but I saw the way Charlie’s eyebrows pulled together.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked.
“It was super last minute,” I lied, sitting up and reaching for the popcorn bowl that sat on the coffee table between us. “Anyway, there won’t be a second date. He spent twenty minutes showing me pictures of used vans for sale,” I said dryly.
Oliver snorted. “You’re kidding.”
“Nope.” I popped a piece of popcorn into my mouth.
I had actually set the date up last week. I couldn’t pinpoint exactly why I hadn’t wanted to tell Charlie, but feeling pathetic certainly had something to do with it. Ever since the engagement party and our constant chatter about weddings, shame brewed in my gut at the thought of mentioning to her that I was headed out on another first date. I had begun to fantasize about meeting someone and keeping it quiet until we hit it off and started officially going out. Then I could mention it to my friends when it had become something stable. I’d come to Charlie and tell her I had a boyfriend, and she’d look at me with shock at first, but then we would excitedly jump around and celebrate. Then I could invite everyone to a happy hour where I’d introduce him, and he could be my date to the wedding, and?—
“Why do you keep doing this to yourself? I think you need a dating break.” Oliver interrupted my thoughts, and my daydream came crashing down around me. That fantasy felt delusional even to me at this point. Especially after how tonight had gone.
“What, so I can be alone forever?” I narrowed my eyes and dug my hand into the bowl of popcorn. “No, thank you.”
“You’re exhausting yourself,” Charlie pointed out. The worry etched on her forehead made me want to dive under the covers of my bed and never resurface. How hopeless was I if even my friends didn’t think I could find someone?
“The right guy will come along eventually. Maybe you’re searching in the wrong places. You should just take a break,” she added.
“I already took a break and look where that’s left me. If I’d known it’d take this long to meet someone, maybe I would have started sooner,” I said, thinking about the few years I’d spent single and avoiding men like the plague. My ex had done a number on me, and I’d needed to just be on my own for a while.
“You needed a break after the last jerk.” Concern shone in Charlie’s eyes, and I resisted the urge to chuck a plush pillow at her.
“Let’s not talk about him.” My tone was harsher than intended, but the last thing I wanted to do was recount tales of my nightmare ex in front of Oliver. I had mentioned to him I had a shitty ex-boyfriend, but I hadn’t gone into detail. I knew I shouldn’t be embarrassed about the situation, but it was hard not to feel a little ashamed about wasting so many of my good years on a narcissistic asshole.
“You’re trying to force it,” Oliver said, moving the subject back to the present and kicking his feet up to rest them on the edge of the coffee table. “I bet if you just chilled out on the dating apps, you’d meet someone organically.”
I laughed bitterly. “Where? At work, like Charlie and Nathan? We run a woman-centered networking company. We have thirty employees—all of whom are women or not interested in women.”
Oliver shrugged. “You could meet someone outside of work.”
“Outside of work I’m just hanging out with the two of you. And sorry, but I can’t believe you, Mr. Perpetually Single, are trying to give me dating advice right now.”
“Perpetually single by choice ,” he added, like it made all the difference.
“So, you could just meet the perfect girl tomorrow if you wanted to?” I challenged.
“I mean—” He flashed me a huge grin. “Probably.”
This time I didn’t resist the urge to throw a pillow. It landed square in his face and his shoulders shook with laughter. The annoying part was, he was probably right. Oliver was gifted with more natural charm than one human should possess, and the face of a nineties boyband heartthrob.
“You’re so annoying,” I said through my laughter.
“Maybe I could set you up again.” Oliver stuffed the pillow behind his back and tapped his chin.
“With who, Harrison?” I mimed gagging. Oliver constantly made jokes about the two of us being perfect for each other, despite Harrison’s open hostility toward me. I knew he was just messing around, but I hated the little flutter in my stomach at even the thought of going out with Harrison. “Speaking of him, I’ve actually been meaning to kill you,” I continued. “Why the hell are you talking to him about my dating life?”
“I’m not,” Oliver insisted.
Charlie and I exchanged a look of disbelief before training our attention back on Oliver.
“Really? That’s funny. Because he seemed to know enough to throw a few jabs at me last weekend.” His comments from the engagement party still tortured the back of my mind.
“I just mentioned you were doing a lot of online dating.” Oliver threw his hands up as if caught. He did that a lot—played innocent so you couldn’t really be mad at him, because of course, at least according to him, he always had the purest of intentions. “I didn’t know it was a secret.”
“You’re just giving him ammunition,” I groaned, covering my face with my hands.
“Harrison is all talk. He’s completely harmless.” Oliver stuck up for Harrison with the same gumption as an up-and-coming criminal defense attorney eager to prove their worth.
“Speaking of your other half, where is he tonight?” I asked, feigning disinterest as I stuffed more popcorn into my mouth.
When it came to Harrison, I would always have some lingering curiosity. Maybe it was his aloofness, or maybe it was because, no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t make myself ignore my attraction. Either way, asking about him had become a bad habit that I really needed to break.
“He’s working on shit for his shop. He’s been trying to redesign their website for weeks now, and he won’t admit that he can’t do it.”
“He’s trying to rebrand, right?”
“Lila.” Charlie’s tone had a heavy note of warning to it.
“What? I’m curious.”
She threw a piece of popcorn at my head, but I snatched it out of the air and tossed it back at her.
A lot was happening with ConnectHer right now. I was juggling several new app integrations, and despite Charlie begging me every week to hire extra help, I refused to delegate. I knew her concern wasn’t about controlling my time; it was about trying to prevent me from burning out. But I just couldn’t help myself. As a trained graphic designer, branding was my bread and butter.
I pulled out my phone. “What’s his shop called again? I want to see what he’s working with.”
“You’re impossible.” Charlie stood up and padded into the kitchen. The clicking of cabinets opening and closing signaled she was searching for more snacks.
Instead of answering me, a slow smile spread across Oliver’s face.
“What?” I demanded.
“Look, I know he was all defensive about it the other day, but he really needs some help.”
Rolling my eyes, I keyed “Harrison” and “Denver Tattoo Shop” into my search bar instead of waiting for Oliver to answer.
“He literally looked like he’d rather get a root canal with no anesthesia than get any help from me,” I mumbled, pulling up what I assumed to be the website for Harrison’s shop. The black screen featured dark, sporadically placed text that was almost impossible to read. When I scrolled down to click on the photo gallery, the link didn’t even work. My hands were itching to get into the backend of this site and make a few simple updates.
“Harrison is the most stubborn person you’ll ever meet, but that’s just his gut reaction. Literally, when we were driving home, he told me he wished he’d just sucked up his pride and asked for your help.”
I arched a brow and looked up at him skeptically over my phone. “ Harrison said that?”
“I swear.” Oliver held up his hand like he was pledging an oath or something. I still didn’t buy it.
“Look, let me talk to him. If you’d even be able to help him one evening after work, it could make a huge difference.”
“There’s no way he’d want my help,” I insisted.
“I promise you, he will. Let me just talk to him.” Oliver pressed his hands together in a pleading motion. “Look, he’s stressed as hell about this. And he’s my best friend. If you won’t consider doing it for him, consider it for me?”
“Oliver.” His name came out like a groan. He knew a guilt trip was the perfect way to get me to do whatever he wanted. Disappointing people wasn’t in my nature.
“Can we change the subject?” Charlie interjected, coming back in and plopping on the couch. Packets of candy rained from her hands and onto the coffee table.
“Hey!” I protested. “I was saving those.”
She shrugged and tore open a bag of Peanut M&Ms. “Oops.”
Oliver snagged a Snickers. “Could we perhaps talk about this mysterious trip you and Nathan are taking us on in a few weeks?”
“Nope.” Charlie held up her hand. “I’ve told you everything you need to know. You’re not getting anything more out of me.”
A few days ago, we’d all received an email with a simple “save the date” for the pseudo bachelor/bachelorette trip, and a brief packing list. Beyond that, nothing—no itinerary, no hints. The thought of a surprise trip was honestly thrilling. I never got to go anywhere, despite always having an urge to travel.
“Please,” I begged, swiping up and closing Harrison’s website before setting my phone face down on my stomach.
“We won’t tell anyone.” Oliver winked at me.
Charlie’s head fell back with laughter. “You can’t keep a secret to save your life,” she said.
“Not knowing is kind of exciting,” I admitted, caving and grabbing a piece of chocolate from the table.
“I guess.” Oliver tapped his fingers together, before snapping and leaning forward. “Hey, speaking of this trip and Harrison?—”
“Were we still speaking of Harrison?” I asked.
“You helping him with his site would be the perfect way to bury the hatchet between the two of you before this trip.”
“I’m not the one wielding the hatchet in the first place,” I argued. “I would love nothing more than to get along.” Understatement of the century. I’d like to do a lot more than just get along...
I shooed the unwelcome thoughts away.
“Then help him. Please, Lila.” Oliver rose from the couch. Dropping to his knees on the floor, he clumsily shuffled his way toward me before taking both of my hands from my lap and looking up at me with his best puppy dog expression. “ Please .”
“Oh my gosh.” I took my hands back and playfully shoved him in the shoulder. We were both laughing now. “You’re desperate.”
I glanced up at Charlie, who simply shrugged with a casual “Do what you want” expression.
Maybe Oliver had a point. Helping Harrison with his site wouldn’t be all that challenging for me, and then maybe he’d finally realize that I wasn’t as bad as he’d made me out to be in his head. Then, we’d go into this trip as civil acquaintances and maybe even get the chance to bond, or something.
It seemed far-fetched, but, honestly, it kind of drove me crazy that Harrison couldn’t stand me. I valued being liked. I was a people-pleaser, through and through. Maybe that wasn’t the healthiest trait, but I thrived on it. I loved seeing grateful smiles when I brought the good coffee to work, or the relief on my employees’ faces when I stayed late to help them meet a tight deadline. And I couldn’t help but bask in the appreciation whenever someone called me a lifesaver for doing them a favor.
So, for those reasons, I found myself telling Oliver, “I’ll think about it.”