Page 25 of Broken As Puck

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?”