Just Watch the Fireworks

by Monica Alexander

“You said on your message that you’d just be at home with Gryffin. I was wondering who that was. You didn’t have like a kid or something and no one told me about it, did you?”

  I barked a laugh at his assumption. “Uh, no. Definitely not.”

  He smiled. “Oh, thank God. You’d be a terrible mother,” he said, and I knew he was just teasing me, even though he was probably right.

  I liked this jokey tone he’d adopted. It was definitely preferable to the snarky attitude he’d given me earlier. It seemed like he was really trying not to start a fight.

  “Gryffin’s my pug – it’s short for Gryffindor. He’s crazy, but incredibly sweet, and cuddling with him while I watched TV seemed like a much better option in that moment.”

  “You named your dog after something from Harry Potter. Wow, you’re a huge dork,” he said, nudging me lightly in the ribs.

  “Shut up,” I said, elbowing him back but smiling since I knew he was just kidding.

  “I’ve missed this,” he said then, catching me off-guard. He turned to me. “I’ve missed you.”

  I opened my mouth to say something, but he held up his hand to stop me.

  “Let me get this out,” he said and took a deep breath. “After we broke up, I had a really rough time. It wasn’t easy. I was so pissed off that I didn’t know what to do, but it was easier to be pissed and pretend I hated you than to think about how much I missed you.”

  I wasn’t quite sure where he was going, so I just let him talk. A part of me was terrified of what he might say, but another part of me was curious.

  “You were right. I was a jerk to you last week. When I saw you, it just brought back old feelings, and I got all pissed off again. Truthfully, what happened between us happened a long time ago. You’ve moved on. I’ve moved on a few times.” He grinned slyly at me, and I remembered Jenna from the club. “We were friends for so long, and I guess what I’m trying to say is that I miss that. I miss your friendship, and I’ll put aside my anger if you do.”

  Relief washed over me. As he’d been rattling off his monologue, I’d been seriously concerned that he was about to tell me he was still in love with me which was exactly what I didn’t want to hear.

  “Beck, we tried that earlier tonight,” I said. “I don’t think it’s a good idea. We didn’t last two minutes before we started arguing.”

  He pondered that for a minute. I could see the wheels turning in his mind.

  “Okay, but this time I really mean it. I shouldn’t have said what I did. I promise I won’t try to pick a fight with you anymore. I think we just need to put aside what happened and see if we can be friends.”

  I realized as we sat there how much I’d truly missed him too. My hatred had been a way to deflect that, but sitting there, swinging with him and singing along to Nirvana, my hatred seemed to dissipate and it seemed like friends with my ex just might be possible.

  “You promise you’ll be nice?” I asked.

  He nodded and held up two fingers. “Scout’s honor.”

  I elbowed him in the ribs again. “You were never a Boy Scout.”

  He smiled. “It’s scary how much you know about me.”

  “Told you,” I said, and he just laughed.

  Nine

  The next morning dawned bright and sunny. Summer had officially arrived in New England, and I couldn’t wait to get outside and enjoy it. I dressed quickly in running shorts and a long sleeve t-shirt. I was meeting Beckett to go running. It was our first official act as friends. He’d been my running partner for years, and it was one of the things I missed most after we’d broken up.

  We’d shared a cab home from the party the night before after I’d learned that he lived in Beacon Hill which was just ten minutes from my apartment. We made plans to go running the next morning before I had to start getting ready for the Scarletti/Friedman rehearsal dinner that night in the North End.

  I walked over the footbridge that went from my apartment to the Esplanade, putting my ear buds in as I went. As soon as I reached the sidewalk, I put on Linkin Park and started to walk. It was about a half-mile to the Longfellow Bridge, and I had about ten minutes before I had to meet Beckett. I walked for about thirty seconds before the music took over and I needed to run. The beats in my ears were guiding me, as I pounded along the sidewalk taking in the beauty of the Charles River and the Esplanade.

  I made it to the bridge in about three minutes. When I stopped I realized how hot I was, so I peeled off my shirt and tied it around my waist. I stretched a little while I waited for Beckett. A few minutes later, I saw him running toward me wearing black basketball shorts and a maroon Boston College t-shirt. He slowed as he got closer to me, pulling his own ear buds out.

  “Good morning,” he said, as his eyes flickered to my bare stomach for a half a second.

  “Hi there,” I said, smiling. “What are you listening to?”

  “Metallica.”

  I laughed. “So in all of these years, you’ve never discovered any bands that are popular now that you like?”

  “Hey, don’t knock it. That was a great decade of music. How about you? What’s on your playlist?”

  “Linkin Park.”

  “Ooh, she’s angry today,” he said, remembering my go-to choice when I was pissed off or had a bad day.

  I rolled my eyes. “Not today,” I said. “I just like angry music when I run. Speaking of which, are we going to talk or run, because I need to get my workout in at some point today.”

  “So angry,” he said, but he was smiling as he put his ear buds back in.

  It was easier than I thought it would be to get back into the rhythm we’d always had. We didn’t talk, so I focused on the music, my stride, and keeping pace with him. I’d forgotten how much I liked running with a partner. I wished Ryan would run with me, but he preferred the gym.

  We ran past the place that marked roughly 2 ½ miles and where I usually turned around to head back. I wasn’t sure how far Beckett was planning on going. I usually ran five miles, and we always had too, but it seemed like he wanted to go further. I was game if he was. Two miles later, he slowed to a walk and pulled out his ear buds, so I did the same. We walked in silence for a few minutes, and I could feel my heart rate low down and my breath become more even with every step. I was overly conscious of Beckett walking next to me as we cooled down – probably more cognizant than I should have been. I found myself listening to the rhythmic sounds his breathing made and found my mind drifting to a memory it needed to forget.

  “So tell me about you,” I sis, as we matched each others’ steps. I needed to find something non-sexual to distract me, so I wouldn’t hone in on something I shouldn’t. “Besides school, what else has been going on?”

  “What do you want to know?”

  “I guess I’m just curious about your life. Is there anyone special in it?”

  I knew the question was presumptuous, but it was the one that I most wanted to ask. I didn’t know why, but I held my breath as I waited for him to respond. I was dying to know if things were serious with Jenna.

  “Right to the big stuff, huh?” he asked, looking over at me.

  I tried to sound casual. “Yeah, well, we covered school and your family last night in the cab, so I figured I could ask about this. You already know about me, so now we’ll be on even footing.”

  He considered my statement for a minute. “Okay, well, there’s no one at the moment. I’ve pretty much been dating for the past few years, but I haven’t gotten serious with anyone.”

  Which is code for ‘I’ve been having lots of sex with hot women’.

  “Really? I find that hard to believe,” I said, really wanting to make a snarky comment about how high his number had gotten since we’d broken up but not wanting to be a bitch.

  “Yeah, well, sometimes it’s not that easy to find someone who’s perfect for you.”

  He locked his eyes with mine as he said that, and I wondered what was behind that look. I was pretty sure it was a dig at m
e for finding someone else so quickly. Or maybe it was something else that I didn’t want to consider since I didn’t want to think about him harboring feelings that I was perfect for him. Being friends wouldn’t work if that was the case. I waited to see if he’d elaborate on his statement, but he didn’t. Instead, he changed the subject back to me.

  “Tell me about, what’s his name? Ryan?”

  Okay, now I really wasn’t sure what to make of his previous statement. Things were getting awkward.

  “Are you sure you want to talk about this?” I asked, stalling a bit. I wasn’t sure I wanted to talk to him about Ryan.

  “Sure. We’re friends, so I figure I should know certain things about you.”

  “It’s not weird for you?”

  He laughed lightly. “A little, but I’ll let you know if it gets too weird.”

  “Okay, so what do you want to know?”

  “How’d you meet him?”

  This might be an even more awkward subject, but I was willing to broach it if he was asking. I had met Ryan at Starbucks on a Saturday morning. Beckett and I had a tradition of going to Starbucks on the weekends. We would sit there for hours reading the paper, studying or reading whichever novels we were engrossed in at the moment. It was our place. After we had broken up, I still went there every weekend. In the beginning, it was because I had hoped to run into him, but then it became more of a comfort to be where we used to be together, then it just turned into a personal habit that had nothing to do with him. That had been when I’d met Ryan.

  “At Starbucks,” I said, looking at him. He raised his eyebrows at me but didn’t say anything, so I took it as a sign to continue. “They called my drink order, and I went up to get it, but he was already there, taking it off the counter. He said he thought it was his, so I had to explain that it was mine. There was a brief discussion before the barista called out his drink, and he handed mine back to me. From there, he apologized profusely, and then asked if he could join me for breakfast. I found out later that he knew what he was doing all along. It was just a ploy to get me to talk to him.”

  I smiled at the memory. Ryan had been so cute with his little plot to talk to me. Little did he know that it would have worked if he would have just said hello.

  “Smooth,” Beckett said dryly. He had never been a fan of guys who played games.

  “Hey,” I said warningly, pointing my finger at him. “No judgment.”

  He put his hands up in defeat. We had been down this road once before we’d started dating. Back when we’d been just friends, he’d been jealous of a guy I’d dated briefly. I’d let him know back then that his side remarks weren’t welcome. They were even more unwelcome now that he was talking about Ryan.

  “Got it. I won’t say another word.”

  We walked for a few more minutes. I wondered when we might turn around. Not that I was in a hurry, but we were getting farther and farther away from my apartment.

  “Um, were you thinking about heading back anytime soon?” I asked.

  “Well, I was actually hoping you might be hungry. I’m starving and there’s a great little place up here. Any chance you’d want to have breakfast with me?”

  I narrowed my eyes. Had this all been a ploy to get me to go on a date with him? Did he not realize I was committed to someone else?

  “Are you asking me out?”

  He barked a laugh at my question. “Courtney, please give me a little credit here. I’m not trying to date you. I’m not asking you out. I know what that ring means. All I’m asking is if you’re hungry and would like to eat breakfast. Is that such a bad thing?”

  I felt guilty. Why was I so conceited to think that he still wanted to be with me? I was being ridiculous and I knew it. I felt the blood rush to my cheeks.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean be so presumptuous,” I said quickly.

  “It’s okay if you don’t want to go to breakfast. I mean, if you have plans, that’s cool.

  He was fishing. He wanted to know if Ryan was back in town.

  “Ryan’s not going to be back until this afternoon, so no, I don’t have anywhere to be,” I said with just a little bite to my tone.

  I wondered if this little back and forth was going to continue. It was suddenly getting reminiscent of our fight the night before.

  “Okay, then will you join me?” he asked, cocking his head slightly and raising his eyebrows at me.

  He smiled a genuine smile, and I knew it that moment that this was the guy I wanted to be friends with. I decided to give him another chance. I was such a sucker for his smile. I always had been, and I was surprised it could still get to me.

  “I’d love to have breakfast,” I said automatically.

  “Okay, then let’s turn off here. There’s a café by BU that has the best omelets.”

  I was struck by a memory of him cooking in my mom’s kitchen. Omelets were his specialty. He used to make them for us every Saturday morning when I was living at home. Nope, I wasn’t going to read into that. He just liked omelets. I knew that. There was nothing else behind his comment. He knew I liked omelets too. He was just being nice.

  “Did you know that there are twenty-one official neighborhoods in Boston?” Beckett asked me then.

  I laughed out loud. “Wow,” I said. “I completely forgot that you do that.”

  “What?” he asked, looking perplexed at my laughter.

  “Spout off random historical facts.” He frowned at me. “Oh, no,” I said, trying to control my laughter. “It’s all very interesting information. I just forgot that you did it. Sorry. Please continue – twenty-one official neighborhoods.”

  “Hey, some people find me fascinating,” he said, as he smirked at me. I just rolled my eyes. “Anyway, we are currently walking out of Back Bay and into the Allston/Brighton area of the city. On your left is Boston University where my dad teaches.”

  I nodded, as he pointed out some of the buildings we were passing, telling me about their history. I had to admit, it was pretty interesting. We’d been to BU together a few times for different functions his dad had hosted, so it looked familiar. His dad was extremely well-respected in the history department, and it had always been Beckett’s goal to be half as good a professor as his father.

  “Let’s go through here,” he suddenly said, and we cut across the grass and found our way onto a sidewalk that would lead out to Commonwealth Avenue where the café was.

  I untied my t-shirt and put it back on as we walked. I was perfectly comfortable in my sports bra when I was running but not when I was eating. No thank you.

  Beckett held the door open, as I walked into the small space. It was artsy and modern with mismatched paintings hanging on the walls. Upon closer inspection, each painting was numbered like in a gallery. They were all for sale. The walls were painted navy blue, which would have made the café look dark if it hadn’t been for the skylights overhead. The place was flooded with light. Twenty chrome tables with magenta Formica tops were scattered around in no particular order, and toward the back, I could see the door that led to the kitchen.

  The place was packed, so much so that I wasn’t sure we would find a table, but Beckett was able to see over the crowd and spotted one toward the back. He took my hand and led me through the restaurant. I should have been thrown off by his gesture, but it felt so natural that I didn’t even realize it until we were halfway to the table. He released my hand once we sat down, so I felt silly saying anything at that point. He pulled a menu from behind the salt and pepper shakers and handed it to me.

  “You don’t need a menu?” I asked, as I opened mine.

  He shook his head. “Nope. I get the same thing every time, so there’s no sense in looking.”

  “Alright,” I said, looking down at the choices.

  For as creative as the restaurant was, the menu was even more innovative. There were things put together that I never would have thought of, like banana bread, ham and melted swiss cheese or pancakes layered with an egg, bacon an
d cheese. I was never very adventurous, so the menu scared me at first, but then I was able to locate the basic breakfast foods. When the waitress came around, I very comfortably ordered peach pancakes with a side of bacon.

  Beckett sang a few lines from the song ‘Peaches’ by The Presidents of the United States after the waitress walked away. I laughed at him, loving the way his mind worked. I sang the next line, matching his memory for such an obscure song.

  He laughed. “You are the only person I have ever met that can do that as well as me.”

  I bowed slightly. “It ‘tis my gift.”

  He smiled as he settled back in his chair and appraised me for a few seconds before asking, “How do you like the city so far?”

  “I love it,” I said honestly. “I’ve always loved Boston. You know that.”

  “Yeah, you always did.”

  As he spoke, I caught myself staring at him. I hadn’t seen him in so long that it felt strange to see his face, but at the same time, if felt as if no time had passed at all. His jaw was more angular than I remembered, and he did look older, but he still had those same freckles across the bridge of his nose that gave him a boyish look. Combined with his warm brown eyes and that grin of his, and I wondered how it was possible that he didn’t have a girlfriend.

  “How about you? You’ve lived here for two years now. Do you ever wish you’d gone to New York like your sisters?”

  Beckett and his sisters had grown up on Long Island. He had been the only one living at home when his parents moved to Cohasset before his senior year of high school. Part of me thought he might go back to New York, especially after the break-up.

  He stared at me for a long moment before saying, “Never.”

  Again, I was inclined to see something that wasn’t there. I convinced myself that his look hadn’t meant anything and pushed the thought out of my mind.

  “No way. I’ve met a lot of great people here,” he continued. “I have a lot of really good friends. Pat’s here, my parents are close by. Plus, I’m kind of in the middle of my program at BC, so I can’t really go anywhere.”

  He ran his hand through his moppy brown hair that was slightly wet from the heat outside. I had never seen his hair at that length. I was surprised that it curled slightly at the ends and was embarrassed to admit that I found it sexy. I knew I shouldn’t be thinking that.