Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
CHELSEY
Layla gasped for breath somewhere on the trail behind me.
My legs burned and I’d worked up a sweat, but she sounded like she was on the verge of keeling over.
It was relatively warm for this time of year, but I still had a sweater tied around my waist and I suspected I’d need to put it on as soon as we stopped moving.
“How come you’re fine when you’re carrying ten ton of equipment and I’m dying when all I have is a protein bar and a bottle of water?” She puffed, her feet scuffing through fallen leaves.
I chuckled and the light ahead of me bobbled as my head moved. “Because you don’t do any cardio.”
“Yoga has cardio,” she protested, then groaned as we crested the hill and rounded a corner, only to see in the beam cast by my headlight that the trail continued upward. “You’re trying to kill me, aren’t you?”
“If I wanted to kill you, there would be easier ways.”
“Oh, but you’re vicious. People don’t realize it because you’re so sweet, but you secretly take joy in making me cry.”
I stopped walking and turned to face her, amused. I made sure to keep the light angled away from her face so I wouldn’t blind her. “You’re so dramatic.”
“I’m just honest.” She stopped too, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she struggled to catch her breath.
“You need to find a new hiking friend here in Chicago. We had such a good setup in California where you went and did that with someone else. I prefer not to be involved if at all possible.”
The corner of my mouth twitched, but I managed not to laugh. “I appreciate you coming with me.”
I did, more than I could say. Layla might be loud and opinionated, but she was a wonderful friend. She just wasn’t very outdoorsy. Thankfully, she didn’t usually need to be. Back in California, I’d had another friend to hike with and before that, I’d had Matt.
She waved her hand dismissively. “Yeah, yeah. I’m the best. I know.”
I smirked and didn’t disagree. “Are you all right or do you need to stop for a while?”
I was reluctant to stop for too long because the forest around us was already starting to lighten, indicating that the sun would soon venture above the horizon.
The whites of her eyes showed in the dark as she rolled them. “I’ll be fine. Let’s keep going.”
I looked at her closely for a few seconds, just to make sure she was actually okay, before starting back up the hill. I enjoyed the heat in my calves as I hiked higher, nearing our destination. I’d been here before but never at this time of day.
“Remind me why we’re in the middle of the woods when we should be in bed, still asleep,” Layla groused.
“Because the lighting will be best for the photo at sunrise.” I could take decent photographs any time of the day or night, but there was just something special about ones captured at dawn and dusk.
“And I care… Why?”
“Because you’re a good friend.”
“I don’t think I hear that enough,” she muttered under her breath. “I expect all the praise for going along with this harebrained plan. All the praise.”
“You’re a beautiful goddess, blessed with wit and charm,” I said dryly, then stepped in a puddle and glanced down, relieved to see that my shoes weren’t too wet.
“Tell me more.”
“You captivate those around you and entrance them with your glory.”
Now it was her turn to laugh. “That’s a bit much, even for me.”
We summited the hill and started down the slope on the other side. Water hissed and rushed somewhere nearby. We must be getting close to the waterfall. The one here wasn’t particularly high, but it was very pretty and I looked forward to trying to capture it as best I could.
The earth squelched beneath my feet and Layla bit out a curse as she also stepped into the mud.
“Ew, this isn’t what I signed up for.”
“But think of how impressed Sam will be when you tell him about it,” I said.
She harrumphed but didn’t complain again.
Sam, her yogi crush, had made it clear he enjoyed hiking and that he found an appreciation of nature attractive in a woman.
Layla, bless her heart, hadn’t let that put her off even though she most appreciated nature when it was in a potted form around our apartment.
The trail kinked to the right and up ahead, I spotted the reflection of my headlight on the surface of the water.
I stopped at the edge of the pool and shone my light around until I found a reasonably dry patch of ground, then I took off my backpack and set it down, immediately putting my sweater back on so I wouldn’t get cold.
My tripod was strapped to the side of my backpack, so I loosened the strap around it and started extending it out to its full size. I planted it on the ground, using the spikes on the end to dig it into the soft dirt, and made sure it stood reasonably level.
I opened the backpack, pulled out my camera, and fastened it onto the top of the tripod by touch.
I’d already attached the appropriate lens last night so I didn’t need to mess around with that in the dark.
I turned it on and used my headlight to find the waterfall and aim the camera at it.
That done, I made sure the settings were dialed in appropriately and stood back to wait.
Layla was leaning against a tree, and we watched in silence as the darkness gave way to dawn.
It was a beautiful spot. The water cascaded over thin layers of rock that were in a kind of natural pancake formation.
The pool at the base wasn’t much to look at in the light of day, but now, with the soft light brushing its edges, it was stunning.
Matt would like it.
I felt a pang in my chest at the thought. God knew what had made me think of him. It was true, though. He’d loved getting out into the wilderness with me and he’d never minded sitting around while I fussed with my camera and took hundreds of photographs to pore over later.
“If you and Matt were still together, he could have been the one you dragged here at this abominable hour of the morning,” Layla said, as if she’d read my thoughts.
I pressed my lips together because I didn’t know how to respond. She was right, but also, what had made her think of him when we’d been broken up for so long?
She sighed. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have mentioned him.”
“It’s not an issue. I know mornings aren’t your favorites. Thanks for coming along anyway.”
I could have hiked here by myself, but while I didn’t mind doing solo hikes during the day, I was reluctant to be somewhere so isolated outside of daylight hours. Perhaps I was being paranoid, but bad things happened to women. There were real dangers to take into account.
Looking up at the sky between the branches of the trees, I decided it was light enough to get started. I kneeled in front of the tripod and snapped one photo to get a baseline starting point.
“What’s the plan?” Layla asked, pushing off the tree and wandering over.
“I want some longer exposure times so I can get a misty effect with the water,” I told her, increasing the exposure time, adding a two-second timer so I wouldn’t bump it with my hand and ruin the shot, and then pushing the shutter button.
“Part of the reason we’re here early is so I can get that without the image overexposing. ”
I examined the resulting photograph, changed the angle of the camera slightly, and tried again. The next one was good. I showed it to her so she could see what I meant about the water.
“You’re so talented.” She pulled a protein bar from her pocket and tore the wrapper open. “You should try selling some of your photos. I bet you could get them made into postcards or, like, computer backgrounds.”
“Maybe one day.” I kept my focus on the camera, trying to get all the shots I wanted before the light changed.
Honestly, I’d considered listing some of my images on stock photo sites, but I hadn’t done it because I worried that would change how I felt about my landscape photography.
I loved doing it as a hobby, but I worried it would no longer be fun if I turned it into work.
“You know what would make this better?” Layla asked, backing away and taking up a stance against the tree once more.
“What’s that?”
“Coffee.”
I laughed. “We can get some on the way home.”
“I’ll hold you to that.”
By the time the sun had risen, I had enough photos in the camera that I knew I’d have a busy day ahead editing them.
Layla had found a log nearby and was sitting on it, so I walked over to join her.
She held out her phone to show me that she was scrolling through the Chicago Chaos’s social media posts.
“You work with some gorgeous men,” she said, pausing on a photograph of Austin Harris. “But why would you give us a front view? Don’t deny the internet what they want. You know they love that ass.”
I rolled my eyes. “He’s a very private man and I don’t think he’s comfortable with the attention he gets. I don’t want to make him any more uncomfortable than he needs to be.”
Layla grimaced but didn’t remark on that as she continued scrolling. When she stopped again, it was on the more playful image of Brian Taylor. “I might need an introduction to this guy.”
“Huh.” The sound burst from me without any thought.
I’d have expected Layla to be more interested in Jesse Young’s clean good looks or Drew McKinley’s bad-boy vibe.
Taylor wasn’t unattractive, with the crinkles around his warm brown eyes and his just-rolled-out-of-bed hair, but he was more of an everyman.
Layla shrugged. “He looks like he’d feed a girl s’mores and then snuggle her under the stars.”
My chest constricted. Matt and I had done that before. I forced myself to stare at the phone and not look at Layla in case she saw the emotions rioting through me. I wasn’t good at hiding my feelings from my best friend.
Years ago, Mat and I had spent a night camping in Joshua Tree National Park.
We’d cooked s’mores after dinner and huddled beneath a blanket as we watched the sky darken and the stars come out.
It was one of the moments I’d felt most connected to the world and somehow tiny and insignificant all at the same time.
“So, is he single?” she asked, jolting me out of my memories.
I blinked and pulled myself together. “He’s not, sorry. He’s happily married, with a couple of kids.”
“Boo. The good ones are always taken.”
I nodded. It was a sad fact that the older we got, the fewer decent men were available to date. The last few times I’d tried, the guys had either not been interested in more than sex or there had been a very good reason they were still single in their late twenties or thirties.
“How come you haven’t done Matt’s profile yet?”
I pulled a face. I’d been putting that off because I didn’t trust myself not to ogle the photograph of him more than would be professionally appropriate. Why did the man have to have such yummy muscles and that wicked smirk that made me think of naughty things?
“It better not be because you’re still hung up on him,” Layla added, concern lacing her voice.
“I’m not.” It would be embarrassing if I were, considering how long we’d been broken up.
“Uh-huh. Sure. So, have you considered making your profile live on dating apps again?”
I got up and started packing my gear back into my bag. “That’s not my thing.”
“Then what about that guy at yoga?” Layla persisted, following me and hovering awkwardly as I folded down my travel tripod.
“He’s only been back once, and he didn’t talk to me,” I pointed out.
She huffed. “So you talk to him. Or, if you’re not interested in him, we could go clubbing.”
“We’re too old for that.”
“There are clubs designed for people who aren’t just out of high school or college.”
I slid the tripod into its cover and strapped it to the side of my backpack. “Men don’t pick up women like me when they go clubbing.”
This time, her snort was derisive. “You mean beautiful women with massive racks and big blue eyes?”
“You know what I mean.” Most men in clubs wanted petite women. In my experience, most men in general seemed to prefer them.
“I really don’t.” She watched me as she drank from her bottle. “I think you’re just full of excuses.”
I shouldered my backpack and we started the hike back to where the car was parked. Fortunately, the return trip was mostly downhill, so Layla wasn’t as miserable.
“You should give online dating a genuine try,” she said as we crossed the river on a small wooden bridge. “You deserve to be happy.”
“We don’t need to be dating to be happy.” Women could live full lives without a romantic partner.
“But you like being in a couple,” she argued, stubbornly refusing to back down. “At least let me set up a profile for you. You can decide whether you do anything with it or not.”
“Fine.” If I didn’t give in at least a little, I doubted I’d hear the end of it. “You can set up a profile for me, but then you can’t do anything else with it. Once it’s set up, it’s my decision whether to go further.”
She hesitated. “Just promise me you’ll spend a few minutes browsing the options before you pretend it doesn’t exist.”
“Sure.” That couldn’t hurt.
We reached my SUV and I put my gear in the back and got into the driver’s seat. It was an hour’s drive back to our apartment and Layla maintained a running commentary as she created an online dating profile for me.
“Hobbies,” she murmured, typing away. “Photography, hiking, team sports, yoga. Looking for…” She paused and glanced at me. “Any special requests?”
One side of my mouth curled. “Someone gainfully employed and not bigoted in any way.” I couldn’t stand discrimination.
She cocked her head. “Let’s go with, a man in his late twenties or thirties who can be an equal partner and who is kind and compassionate toward others, regardless of whether their lived experiences differ from his.
Must also enjoy the outdoors—that’s my personal requirement so I’m not stuck as your hiking buddy. ”
“Sure. That works.”
“Relationship goals.” She looked at me. “Seeking a committed, monogamous relationship. Now let’s find a good picture of you.”
I pulled onto the highway and grimaced at the thought of how many terrible photos of me Layla had in her phone. “None that make me look like a sloppy drunk, please.”
She tutted. “As if I’d do that to you.”
She thrust her phone at me, and I glanced at it before refocusing on the road.
She’d opened a photograph of me at a gala I’d attended in California last year.
I was dressed nicely, in a pale purple gown, and my hair fell in waves around my shoulders.
My makeup was on point, making my eyes even brighter.
“That one works,” I said.
“You look hot as hell. The messages are going to roll in.”
I wasn’t so sure about that, but only a few minutes later, the phone pinged and Layla turned to me, her expression smug.
“How do you feel about a date tonight with a sexy French Canadian who’s new to the area?”