“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 drivinghome, 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. “Harrisonsaid 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.
