Page 4 of Resorting to Romance

“You know what you need?”

“No. But I’m sure you’re about to tell me.”

He smirks. “You’re lacking in female companionship, bro. It’s as simple as that. You should just ask a girl out.”

He looks at me and then his gaze shifts to a shelf of graphic surf T-shirts behind me. He walks over and starts re-folding the top few that were left askew by customers yesterday.

“Who?”

I shouldn’t ask. Why am I asking Ben? I don’t need to encourage him butting in on my love life—or lack of love life.

“Does it really matter? Just ask a girl out. Like, someone who works at Alicante. Or … Clarissa.”

“Clarissa? As in C-Side Coffee Clarissa?”

“Yeah? Why? What’s wrong with her?”

“Nothing. She’s great. I like her a lot. Only, I think she could be old enough to have been my babysitter when we were younger.”

“But you no longer need a sitter.” Ben chuckles. “You’re older now. Age is just a number after a while. Isn’t that what they say?”

“A number that might mean I need to date someone who is less than ten years older than me.”

“Okay. Fine. What about … Mila?”

He says the name so randomly—like he casually picked it out of a hat, like her name is just one among many.

There’s nothing random or casual about Mila. And she’s not someone I’m ever going to date. Between her job running her bed and breakfast on the North Shore, and her devotion to her son, Noah, she’s off limits. We’re friends. Good friends. But just friends. That’s all we’ll ever be. And I’m fine with that. A man could do way worse than having a friendlike Mila.

Ben’s facial expression says he’s questioning the sanity of my acceptance of my place in her friend zone. Mila’s beautiful. Actually, that word really doesn’t begin to capture her. She’s got chestnut brown hair that shimmers and falls down her back in soft waves. It’s a color that would make you expect to gaze into warm brown eyes. But she’s full of surprises. Mila’s eyes are a stark contrast to her hair: a crystalline blue, nearly translucent, a lake in the tundra, rimmed in turquoise. Not cold, though. Nothing about Mila is cold. Her eyes are the thermal Blue Lagoon in Iceland, a place of warmth when everything around is stark and frigid. And there’s so much more to her than her effortless beauty. She’s bright, funny, and caring—the kind of woman a man might have overlooked in his twenties, but notices far more than he ought to in his thirties.

“Earth to Kai.” Ben chuckles softly, as if he caught me withholding a secret.

“Yeah. No. Not Mila. She isn’t … that’s not an option.”

“I think she’s definitely an option.”

“Well, she’s not.”

“Okay, not Mila.” Ben’s ability to roll with the punches and remain buoyant should be bottled and mass marketed. “How about a night at Club Descanso? We could just go out dancing. Summer and me … you. We could grab Cam and Riley …”

And I could be the thirty-three-year-old fifth wheel.

“Just dancing with friends, and maybe a dance or two with someone attractive,” Ben persists. “What do you say, Kai?”

I hear the word “Yes” come out of my mouth as if I’m not even the one saying it. Apparently, Ben’s charm and capacity for persuasion doesn’t end with his wife, Summer. If I’m honest, I could use a night out with friends, even if those friends will couple up, leaving me looking like a bicycle with only one tire.

“Great! I’ll text Summer. We’ll pull something together for tonight or tomorrow.”

And just like that, it looks like I’m going out dancing.

TWO

Mila

Life is full of challenges and surprises,

and I've had my share.

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