I paused. “We’ve been through a lot together.”
She sighed, and I felt bad that even my attempt to open up was coming across as cryptic. I took another sip of my drink to distract myself.
“We’ve known each other since kindergarten,” I continued. “I didn’t have the easiest time making friends.” That was an understatement, but I couldn’t bring myself to divulge all of the vulnerable details. Even when she was looking at me like that.
“That was probably hard,” she offered, even though I was giving her nothing.
“It stuck with me, I guess.”
“Whatever happened then, you shouldn’t let it have all this control over you now.” Her eyes bored into me, and I shifted to look at the ocean.
“You’re always so full of life. It’s like you don’t care what anyone thinks,” I said. “I’m jealous.”
She laughed softly. “I haven’t always been like this. Or at least, I had someone try to dim my light before.”
That made me tune in more closely.
“My high school and college boyfriend. We dated for forever. He... let’s just say he wasn’t the nicest.”
My whole body heated up at her words. Despite being a dick to Lila myself, something about the way her face fell when she talked about this guy didn’t sit right with me.
“He was happier when I stayed at home. He didn’t love when I went out, or tried to meet new friends. I don’t want to get into it, but he definitely put a damper on my spirits for a while. So when I finally got out of that relationship, I vowed to always live life intentionally. It’s why Charlie and I started our business. It’s why I always try to look on the bright side when I can. It’s why I try to have fun with my clothes.” She shrugged. “Life is too short to put myself in a box and worry about what everyone else is thinking, you know?”
I desperately wanted to ask her for more details, but the sad, far-away look in her eyes made me stop. I didn’t want to push her. Here I was, trying to share something about myself, and now she was the one sharing. Except, maybe that was intentional on her part. She was trying to get me to be more comfortable.
I exhaled. Screw it. What did I have to lose?
“I grew up dirt fucking poor,” I started. “My parents had me real young, and their parents cut them off. They were always struggling, for as long as I can remember.”
Lila waited a moment before responding, like she was scared I might run off or something.
“That’s tough,” she finally said. “They seemed like wonderful people. You know, from the two seconds I spoke to them.”
“They are. And don’t get me wrong, we got by okay. They always made sure I had food and what I needed for school. But I didn’t always look like this, either.” I gestured to myself. “I was a bit of a late bloomer. And you can imagine that being the scrawny, poor kid didn’t win me any popularity contests. I only had one friend.”
“Oliver,” she finished.
“Exactly. We were neighbors growing up. I was always shy, but Oliver just rang the doorbell at our house one day and decided we should be best friends. We were inseparable until my parents lost the house and we had to move.”
She sucked in a breath. “I’m so sorry.”
“It is what it is. We moved into a motel, which made me the laughing-stock of my middle school. But Oliver didn’t give a shit. He stuck by me. Even when the other kids were bullying me, he always had my back.”
“What about your parents? They didn’t try to intervene?” she asked.
“It was tough.” I flinched at a particularly painful memory. “I’ll never forget one day I came home in the second grade. A group of kids had pushed me down and taken my sketchbook... I was always drawing back then. They ripped the pages out and scattered them all over the playground. I spent the whole period trying to find the papers and collect them. I held it together the rest of the day, but as soon as I got home, I started to cry. I’ll never forget the look on my dad’s face. He looked so... so helpless. Like it killed him that someone could treat me that way. I felt weak. I felt his weakness in me. Like we were attached by it.” My chest tightened just thinking about my dad’s face that day. “I don’t know. Ever since that day, I told myself I wouldn’tbe weak. It took me a while to build up a thick skin, but I never did let my dad see me cry again.”
“You were just a kid,” she said sadly.
“A kid who grew up,” I continued. When I met her eyes, they were glassy with unshed tears of her own.
“Crying isn’t a weakness, Harrison. And kids are assholes. Your dad only looked at you that way because he loves you.”
“I guess. But emotion just seemed like a liability to me. People would always be horrible, but I was in control of how I reacted to them. If they couldn’t get a rise out of me, then it was like I won.” I shrugged. “Unfortunately, it was a small town, and I had to deal with those assholes all through school. I was always a bit of an outcast. Thankfully, Oliver got me through most of it. Anyway, as I got bigger, I stopped having to take as much shit. And the harder I made myself, the less everyone else bugged me.”
She gave a slight nod, as if that small glimpse into my past was her key to understanding why I turned out the way I did. The relentless bullying during those formative years had left me with no choice but to build a wall around myself, one that no one could get past.
Lila pulled her legs onto her chair and wrapped her arms around them.
