Lila
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Icheck my phonefor the fifth time in twenty minutes, scanning for any notifications from the home security system. Eli left this morning for another “business trip,” his BMW roaring down the driveway before I’d even finished my coffee. His absence should feel like freedom, but instead, my chest tightens with the knowledge that someone might be watching now. I tuck the phone back into my purse and push open the door to Akira Sushi. Valerie and Mia are already seated at our usual corner table, heads bent together in conversation, and the sight of them loosens something inside me.
“There she is!” Valerie waves, her blonde hair catching the light. “We were about to send out a search party.”
I slide into the booth across from them, my body sinking gratefully into the cushioned seat. “Sorry. Traffic was bad near the boardwalk.”
“Sure it was,” Mia says with a knowing smile. “It definitely wasn’t you standing in front of your closet for thirty minutes deciding what to wear.”
Heat creeps up my neck as I glance down at my outfit. Dark jeans and a loose emerald blouse that Valerie once said brings out the blue in my eyes. I did spend longer than usual getting ready, though I’m not sure why. It’s just dinner with friends, not a date. But this is the only time I really get to dress up.
“I see you ordered without me,” I nod toward their half-empty glasses of plum wine.
“First round only,” Valerie pushes a menu toward me. “We were thirsty.”
A waitress appears at our table, notebook in hand. I order a pot of green tea rather than wine, still feeling the need to keep my senses sharp. Habits from living with Eli, I suppose. Never let your guard down completely.
“So,” Mia leans forward, her dark eyes sparkling with mischief. “Any updates on your masked admirer?”
I nearly knock over my water glass. “What? No. Nothing.”
“Mmm-hmm,” Valerie hums, clearly not convinced. “That flush on your face says otherwise.”
“It’s warm in here,” I protest weakly.
“Sure it is,” Mia grins. “Just like traffic was bad.”
The waitress returns with my tea and takes our sushi orders. I pour myself a cup, letting the steam rise to my face, grateful for an excuse for my flushed cheeks. I haven’t seen him since that night on the steps. Haven’t felt that electric current running through my body, haven’t woken up gasping from dreams of his hands on me. But I’ve thought about him. God, I’ve thought about him.
“Let’s talk about something else,” I say, desperate to change the subject. “How’s the new graphics design project going, Val?”
Valerie accepts the diversion, launching into a story about a difficult client who keeps changing his mind about logo colors. Mia interjects with commentary, and I let their chatter wash over me, slowly unwinding the knot of tension between my shoulders.
Our food arrives, colorful plates of sushi rolls, each more elaborate than the last. Mia’s choice is covered in tempura flakes and drizzled with three different sauces. Valerie’s is wrapped in cucumber instead of rice. Mine is simple, tuna, avocado, nothing fancy.
“I still don’t understand how you can eat that,” Mia points to my plate with her chopsticks. “It’s so... boring.”
I shrug, popping a piece into my mouth. “I like knowing exactly what I’m getting.”
“That’s your whole problem right there,” Valerie says, jabbing her chopsticks for emphasis. “You play it too safe. In food, in books, in life.”
“In books?” I raise an eyebrow. “Have you seen what I read? Dark romance isn’t exactly ‘safe.’”
Mia snorts. “Please. You read the same kind of story over and over. Tortured bad boy meets innocent girl, they fight, they fuck, happily ever after.”
“That is not—” I start to protest, then stop, because she’s not entirely wrong. “Okay, but at least my books have a plot. Not like those self-help manifestation books you read.”
“Hey!” Mia places a hand over her heart in mock offense. “Those books saved my life. Well, my mental health at least.”
“And what about Valerie’s fantasy romances?” I turn to our blonde friend. “Dragons and magic and people with unpronounceable names having sex while setting shit on fire? Don’t get me wrong, I love them, too,”
“Romantasy,” Valerie corrects primly. “There’s nothing wrong with a little escapism.”
“I think that’s what we all want from our books,” Mia says thoughtfully, twirling her wine glass. “Different kinds of escape.”
I consider this, thinking about the stacks of novels in my library. The heroines who face down monsters, both supernatural and human, and emerge stronger. The dark, dangerous men and women who are tamed by love. “I guess I like reading about women who survive terrible things,” I admit. “Who find their way to something better.”
