My HERO Ex Boyfriend

by Raquel Belle

  Before we can get through another attempt, the doorbell rings.

  “That must be Laura and Maria.” I go buzz them in.

  “Good, then we can run the routine with all three of you.”

  Laura and Maria will join me in kicking off the flash mob. We’ve already created a public post on Facebook to get others on board. So far we’ve had about 50 respondents. The plan for today is for the three of us to get the choreography down — we’ll then make a video of us doing the steps to the music and send it to the others who have agreed to join us. Then everybody can learn the moves themselves at home over the coming week.

  “Hey gorgeous girls, come on in,” Amanda ushers Laura and Maria into my apartment. “Your assistance is desperately needed.”

  “Thank you so much for helping me with this,” I give each of the girls a hug, “especially on a weekend.”

  “Hey, I’m happy to get my shot at fame with a viral video,” Laura grins.

  “Same here,” Maria agrees. “Let’s get these girl power moves down.”

  “Let’s do this!” Amanda claps her hands loudly.

  “Ugh,” I groan, “Steel yourselves, girls. Amanda is going to love bossing all of us around.”

  “Hey, it’s not my fault you made me the choreographer.”

  “You’re more like a drill sergeant than a choreographer,” I tease her. But I’m grateful for her help, as always.

  Three hours later, Maria, Laura, and I finally have the steps down perfectly. Even I manage to look passable.

  Amanda makes a video of the three of us and we prepare to send it out to the group of strangers who have agreed to take part in the flash mob this coming Friday. I start typing a message to accompany the video with additional details.

  “Why are you asking everyone to wear pink?” Maria asks as she reads over my shoulder.

  “The entire flash mob is supposed to be for breast cancer awareness,” I explain. “And pink is the color for that.”

  “Yeah, the third Friday of October is always Breast Cancer Awareness Day,” Amanda adds. “That’s the day of the flash mob. So we thought we’d go ahead and link the two events.”

  “That’s awesome!” Maria exclaims. “I had no idea we were doing this for a good cause. I thought we were just shaking our booties for internet fame and glory,” she giggles.

  I smile. “Well, after focusing only on myself and winning this stupid competition for the past three weeks, I figured I might as well put my 30,000 followers to good use and spread the word about a real issue.”

  I finish composing the email and have the girls read it over to make sure the instructions are clear. At exactly 3:00 p.m. this coming Friday, Laura, Maria, and I will be standing under the famous Washington Square Arch in Manhattan’s Washington Square Park. All three of us will be wearing bright pink t-shirts.

  Amanda will be in charge of the music and the video live stream. Once she starts the song, Laura, Maria, and I will start dancing. Anyone else who has agreed to join the flash mob is then welcome to join us. They should all wear pink and have a small pink breast cancer awareness ribbon pinned to their chest.

  At the very end of the dance — this is the part where I really need to place my trust in the group of random strangers who have agreed to participate — everyone is supposed to throw two handfuls of pink confetti into the air and then point to the ribbon pinned to their chest. Amanda is supposed to make the last shot a zoom-in of the ribbon. In the Insta caption, we’ll link to the National Breast Cancer Foundation so people can get more information.

  “So is the email clear enough? Do you think everyone will follow the instructions?” I ask the girls nervously as they cluster around me, reviewing the details.

  “Yeah, I would definitely know what to do based on what you’ve written here. I think you’ve got all the necessary information.”

  “You attached the video of us dancing?”

  “Yeah, don’t forget the attachment! Rookie mistake.”

  “Yup,” I nod. “It’s attached. Okay. I’m hitting send.”

  I press the button and we all let out a little squeal. “Why am I so nervous?” I turn to the other girls.

  “Are you worried nobody else will actually show up?” Maria asks, her eyes big.

  “I wasn’t before but now I am,” I laugh. “Thanks, Maria.”

  “Of course they’ll show up,” Amanda assures me. “Why would people respond to a flash mob announcement if they weren’t planning to take part. Trust me. You’ll be just fine.”

  “I hope so or it’s just going to be us three girls looking totally crazy, dancing to Kesha with nobody else around,” I giggle.

  We’re laughing at the thought of it but I hope it doesn’t become a reality. Talk about an embarrassing failure.

  After the girls leave, I shower and change into my comfy sweatpants, happy for a chilled out Saturday night by myself. The last week has been brutal, both physically and emotionally.

  I’ve been pouring all my energy into the competition and I’m thrilled to actually do some good with @LuxeOnLex. And for a cause that is truly near and dear to my heart.

  I haven’t actually told the girls about this, but part of the reason I chose this cause was because my mom died of breast cancer. It was years ago, when I was still a teenager. But my sister Celia and I still donate to the cause every year. And I’m hoping this video will help raise awareness about getting checked.

  Still, even though I’m crushing it at work and finally finding a fulfilling purpose with my social media account, I’m feeling… empty. I hate to admit it but the entire Jake situation has me bummed out. I spent all of last week at work ignoring him but it wasn’t easy.

  The last interaction we had was on Monday, when he showed up with that giant bouquet of red roses and a coffee — when he tried to apologize for acting like a complete and utter jerk. It took all my willpower to dump those beautiful flowers into the garbage.

  I haven’t talked to him since. I blocked his number so he can’t call or text anymore. And I also blocked him on social media. But I can’t get him out of my head — in part due to my lovely Instagram followers.

  I get comments every day from people who are curious about what’s going on between @LuxeOnLex and @Jake_and_Pepper. I scroll through some of them now: “What’s the status with Jake?” “Have you forgiven him yet?” “I can’t believe they aren’t together. I’d definitely have forgiven him after those red roses.” “Stay strong! Don’t fall for his nice guy act. You’re better off alone.”

  Each comment is like a fresh knife wound to my heart. I sigh, pick up the phone, and call Celia.

  “Hey little sis, what’s up?” She picks up almost immediately.

  “Not much, just hanging out at home.”

  “You feeling okay?” She can tell from my tone that I’m not. “Is Jake still bugging you?”

  “No, I haven’t talked to him since Monday.”

  “Oh, right, when he thought some flowers and caffeine would make up for the fact that he acted like a complete and utter idiot?”

  “Yup,” I smile. “I’ve been staying away from him since then.”

  “I guess it hasn’t been easy?” She can sense my hesitation.

  “I don’t know. The whole thing — the whole mess — just has me down. It’s weird. I’m pissed at him but I also… miss him.” I whisper the last words, almost embarrassed to admit it.

  “Oh, Sarah, that’s understandable. You two reconnected. You had an amazing night together from what you told me.”

  “Yeah,” I feel my eyes welling up. “I just hate that I still feel sad about him,” I manage to sniffle into the phone. “I mean, one month ago this guy was literally a ghost from my past. And then he swoops in and manages to shake up my life like this in just a few weeks.”

  “Sweetie, you’re going to break my heart sounding like that. Do you want to come out to Connecticut? You can still catch a train.”

  “No, it’s fine,” I wipe my eye
s on the sleeve of my sweatshirt. “I just need a good night’s sleep. We’ve been preparing for that flash mob and I’m exhausted.”

  “I got your message to the group earlier! I love the video of the three of you dancing. It looks so good. I can’t wait. I’m going to be practicing all day tomorrow.”

  “Thank you so much for coming into the city for that.” Once I told Celia about the idea for the flash mob and the cause, she insisted on joining in.

  “Of course, are you kidding me? I wouldn’t miss this for anything. It’s the perfect tribute to mom. Plus, I’m sure it’s going to be so fun.”

  “Thanks, Celia.”

  “Okay, get some sleep little sis. You sound like you need it.”

  I end the call feeling better. Celia’s right. The hurt from this weird encounter with Jake will fade. I got over him once before. I can get over him again. I just need to give it time.

  Until then, I have a flash mob to focus on. And a competition to win. The Friday of the flash mob is basically my last chance to make a splash. The competition concludes at the end of that week. Serena will announce the winner the following Monday. VP of Social Media, here I come.

  Chapter 14

  Jake

  After my Friday night drink with Roger, I spend the rest of the weekend wallowing at home. I manage to pull myself together enough to post at least one picture of Pepper to Instagram. But beyond that, I’m basically a useless excuse of a human being.

  I blame my mood on my meeting with Roger. His comment about how he — and everyone else in our circles at New York University — was convinced that Sarah and I would make it in the long run kind of rattled me. After suffering through a week of her giving me the cold shoulder, I had told myself all hope was lost. Give up, man. Get over it. Move on.

  But honestly? Roger’s comment made it clear to me that I don't want to move on. And now that I’ve admitted that to myself, I have a huge problem at hand: How the hell do you win back the girl if the girl won’t even talk to you? Won’t even look at you?

  I hate to admit it but this is not a problem I’ll be able to tackle on my own. I know exactly who I will have to enlist to assist me in this mission: Amanda. I hate to throw my pride aside and ask for her help. But it has to be done. I don’t see any other way.

  I drag myself to work on Monday and manage to make it through the day without catching too many evil glares from Sarah. I just have to get through the workday and make it to the P&B Monday Motivation Meeting. I’m confident that Sarah will skip the after-work drinks — it’s the last week of the competition and she’s surely going to be focused on that and nothing else. But Amanda is bound to be there.

  Sure enough, when I walk into the crowded bar, full of P&B staffers, I see Amanda’s curly hair right away. She’s camped out in a corner, sipping on a drink and playing on her phone. I prepare to go over to her but before I can, I hear a shout:

  “Jake! Come here!”

  Shit. Lydia Bowers. Nobody else would give an order like that. I turn and see her just a few feet away from me, sitting at the bar with her usual white wine spritzer in hand.

  “Hey Lydia,” I greet her casually.

  “We were just talking about how most guys can’t pull off an ascot. But I bet you could,” she smiles coquettishly.

  “Gee, thanks, Lydia. That’s… quite a compliment.” What the hell is an ascot? I wonder. It must be something rich dudes wear.

  “Come sit with us!” Lydia gestures to the chair next to her. “You can take Maura’s chair.” The poor intern sitting next to her, clearly impressed by the Bowers name and not one to argue, wordlessly prepares to stand up and give me her spot without protesting.

  “No, no, that’s fine. Maura, you can keep your seat,” I hurriedly motion her to sit back down. I turn to Lydia: “I just have to have one quick conversation,” I tell her. “I’ll be back later. I promise.”

  “Fine,” she huffs, “but don’t take too long. The last time you said you were coming back you just left me sitting here alone.” She laughs playfully as she says it but the look in her eyes reveals her irritation.

  “I won’t keep you waiting,” I assure her. I wonder briefly if she saw the “sleeping with the enemy” post and knows that I hooked up with Sarah. Based on the death stare she just gave me… I’m guessing she did. Is every woman in the P&B offices going to end up hating me?

  I head over to Amanda, who is so immersed in her phone that she doesn’t seem to hear me approach. She doesn't look up until I talk.

  “Mind if I sit down?”

  She jumps slightly in her seat, startled. “Uh…” She’s clearly getting ready to tell me to buzz off.

  “Please, Amanda. I really need to talk to you.”

  “Sure,” she sighs heavily. “What’s up?”

  “I guess Sarah isn’t coming to the P&B drinks today?”

  “Nope. She was headed to a yoga class after work. She really needed to unwind after the stress of the last few weeks.” She gives me a pointed, accusing look. Touché.

  “I can understand that,” I put my hands up defensively. “I’ve had a rough couple of weeks myself.”

  “You do look awful,” Amanda acknowledges and takes a sip of her drink. “Like you haven’t slept in days.”

  “Heartache will do that to a man.” I know that if I’m going to make this work, I have to come clean and put all my cards on the table.

  “Heartache, hm?”

  “Amanda, I need your help.”

  “I already told you, Jake. I’m not the one who is going to help you get back in Sarah’s good graces. I’m not going to make a case for you just because you screwed up so royally that she won’t even talk to you.”

  “I know and I’m not asking you to do that.”

  “Then what are you asking for?”

  “First, let me make it clear to you where I stand. And I’m telling you this in confidence.”

  “Okay,” she shrugs her shoulders, clearly not impressed.

  “I don’t even care about this competition or the VP of Social Media position anymore,” I tell her. “I honestly think Sarah is the better person for the job. The only thing I want right now is her. That night we spent together was literally the happiest I’d been in years. And I don’t…” I swallow hard. “I can’t… lose her again.”

  “You’ve had two chances, Jake. And you were the one to blow it both times. Not her. If you hadn’t posted that picture, you probably could have gotten back together with her. I’ve known Sarah for years and I’ve never seen her so worked up about a guy.”

  “At least that means she cares. So maybe there’s still a chance.”

  “I guess so,” she concedes.

  “Clearly it’s going to take a grand gesture,” I press onwards, seeing that she’s starting to crack.

  “Yeah, no shit.”

  “I think I have the perfect one.”

  She stares at me expectantly and doesn’t say anything.

  I go on: “I know you girls are planning a flash mob.”

  “What! How did you find out?”

  “That’s not important.” I don’t want to get into the details of my snooping and risk annoying her. “The point is that I want to follow up her flash mob with one of my own.”

  “Okay…”

  “You know that song ‘Sorry’ by Justin Bieber?”

  “Of course I do,” she rolls her eyes but then pauses. “And so does Sarah. And she loves it.”

  “What if I follow up her flash mob with my own, to that track?”

  “I mean, Jake, you can try. But she’s really upset. I can’t guarantee that it will work. And if it doesn't — ”

  “If it doesn’t I’ve embarrassed myself publicly in front of a few thousand people?”

  “Uh yeah. I mean we are live-streaming the flash mob so it will go out to at least 30,000 people, maybe more.”

  “That’s fine,” I tell her. And it is. The thought of it doesn’t even faze me. At this point I’m willing to try
anything to get Sarah to forgive me. Or at least talk to me. “So will you help me?”

  “What do you need me for?”

  “I don’t know the details of Sarah’s flash mob. I need to know when and where it’s taking place and what it will involve, so I can coordinate my own plans around it.”

  “Got it. That makes sense,” she pauses, thoughtful. “Okay. If you really want to throw yourself at her feet and beg her forgiveness in front of, oh I don’t know, the whole world… I can help.” She smiles.

  “Awesome,” I feel a weight lift off my shoulders. Maybe, just maybe, I actually stand a chance after all. “So where is she doing this? When?”

  I listen as Amanda tells me the whole plan — how Sarah and some friends will kick off the routine to Kesha’s “Woman” this coming Friday under the arch in Washington Square Park. And how they’ll be wearing pink for Breast Cancer Awareness.

  When I hear this last detail I put my head in my hands for a second. Dear Sarah — underneath that tough and proud exterior she’s as sweet as ever. Trust her to put her internet stardom to good use.

  “You okay?” Amanda asks, noticing my apparent consternation.

  “Yeah. I mean it’s just… It’s such a Sarah thing to do. To end up using her internet fame for something greater than herself.”

  “I guess the timing worked out well since that Friday is Breast Cancer Awareness Day,” Amanda responds casually.

  “Sure, but it must be hard for her. I mean it’s a super personal issue because of her mom and all.”

  Amanda shoots me a confused look. “I thought her mom died when she was just a kid?”

  “Yeah, Amanda. What did you think her mom died of?” I realize that Amanda has no clue as to just how significant this issue is for Sarah.

  “Oh, shit,” she exhales softly. “I had no idea. We never talked about it.” I see her eyes water up a bit. “She’s always so strong, holding everything together so well. I sometimes forget she’s had more than her fair share of heartache in life.”

  “Yep,” I nod. “And it’s time for that to change. I want to be the guy to guard her heart, not stomp on it.”