“Come on, Brett. We’re going to get a drink,” was all she said before taking Brett’s hand to lead him away.
As fun as it might have been for Beckett to receive an earful about what an ass he was from Kate, I was grateful that she kept quiet. Some things were better left unsaid and should remain in the past. He didn’t need to hear from her just how badly he’d hurt me. It was better if we all just left it alone.
“What are you doing?” I asked Beckett then.
He looked offended. “Um, I brought you a beer and tried to talk to your friends, but apparently that didn’t work so well. What’s the problem?”
“Well, considering my friends and I don’t like you very much, I’d say trying to act like everything is how it used to be was a gross misjudgment on your part. Nice try, though.”
I was completely fired up all of a sudden. Just his presence was pissing me off. I could feel my adrenaline kick in as I prepared for an argument. There were a million insults and hurtful comments firing through my mind as I stood there staring at him, waiting for his reply.
But he didn’t lash back out at me. He just shrugged. “Court, it’s been years. Can’t we all just move forward?”
I just crossed my arms and stared at him. I didn’t understand what he was trying to achieve, but it suddenly felt like he was accusing me of being immature. I started to get angry, but he smiled then, and I knew it as a peace offering. He wasn’t chastising me for my behavior. He was trying to pacify me.
“Come on, I’m really trying here,” he said, smiling at me. “Give me a chance.”
I wasn’t sure why was he being nice all of a sudden. We weren’t friends, but I figured I could humor him.
“I’m sorry,” I said, squinting up at him as I tried to soften my mindset. “This is just a little weird. I’ve kind of hated you for a really long time, and you were a jerk to me the other night, and now you’re being nice. I don’t get it. What’s the deal?”
He raised his eyebrows at me. “I was a jerk?” he asked, honing in on that one piece of my statement. “How so?”
The sun was setting behind his head. It illuminated his hair from the back, giving him a glow.
“You were just . . . You didn’t . . . Never mind. It’s just weird.”
I thought back trying to remember anything other than Jenna sucking on his ear and his hand on her ass as they walked away from me. I could come up with anything, but I remembered thinking he was a jerk.
He shrugged. “Maybe that’s the point,” he said, running his hand through his hair. It flopped back down, framing his face. “It doesn’t have to be weird. Maybe we could start over. We’re both adults. Maybe we could be friends.”
No way. We are not going to be friends.
“Friends,” I said, rolling the word around on my tongue. “I guess we could be friends.”
Yeah, right.
“Good,” he said, as he clinked his beer bottle to mine. “To being friends.”
“To being friends,” I echoed, playing along for his benefit.
He looked at me, his brown eyes staring intensely into mine. I wanted to know what he was thinking, but I couldn’t read his expression. I still didn’t buy his sudden change of heart and desire to be my friend. It didn’t make any sense. For two and a half years he’d stayed away, and now all of a sudden, he wanted to be my friend. Something was up. I just didn’t know what.
“So what have you been up to for the past two years?” he asked.
Okay, so apparently being friends was going to start immediately.
“Um, what do you mean?” I asked, thinking how loaded that question was.
“It’s just a question, Court,” he said, and I could tell he knew I was approaching it with a large amount of skepticism. “I just want to know how you’ve been. Don’t worry, I’ll share too.” His brown eyes sparkled as he said that, and he grinned at me.
“Okay,” I said, not sure where to start. Ryan kept popping into my head.
Beckett, as if reading my mind said in a clipped tone, “You can skip the part about the guy who gave you that. I don’t need to know about him.”
Okay, so that was definitely a sore subject. Duly noted. I looked down at my ring and swallowed hard. Maybe I wasn’t the only one harboring negativity about our failed relationship, and it comforted me to know that he too was still affected by what had happened between us.
“Tell me about you,” he continued, using a softer tone.
So I told him all about getting my master’s degree, moving to Boston, and working with Kate. It was the cliff notes version, though, since I was keeping my guard up.
“Weddings, huh?” he asked, zeroing in on that part of my life.
I nodded.
“You don’t like weddings,” he said, calling me on the carpet.
“I like weddings.”
“You do not, Courtney. You complained all the time about your job. I’m surprised you got engaged at all, but to have a career as a wedding planner. I’m just surprised.”
Ouch.
He’d taken a cheap shot, but I chose to ignore it. I just looked at him. It pissed me off that he still knew me better than anyone.
“Maybe I just found something that I’m good at that I can do for a living. What’s so wrong with that?” I snapped back.
I realized I could have told him that I planned to continue to look for a job in publishing, and that I was going to start writing that summer, but I didn’t feel like sharing those things with him.
“Maybe you sold out,” he said, his voice full of snark. “How’s that novel working out for you by the way?”
I glared at him for a few seconds while he just took a long swig of his beer and smirked at me. I wished I’d done something with my novel; an outline or character analysis or at least determined the storyline, but I hadn’t. The truth was I’d lost my desire to write about anything meaningful when we’d broken up. I’d been trying for the past year to get back into it, but it wasn’t as easy as I’d thought it would be.
“What about you?” I demanded, artfully avoiding his question. “Tell me about your life since apparently mine isn’t what you’d have picked for me.”
Beckett suddenly put his hands up in surrender. “Hey, calm down,” he said, his words swimming in false innocence. “We’re just talking.”
“Whatever, Beckett,” I said, turning away from him slightly. He was being a jerk again.
“I’m at BC, getting my PhD in History and teaching two undergrad classes in the history department,” he said haughtily. That had always been his plan, and he was so smug that he was living out his dream.
“Good for you,” I snapped.
“Thanks,” he said curtly.
We were suddenly in a stand-off, facing each other, leaning slightly forward as if ready to pounce.
“So, can I meet this fiancé of yours?” Beckett asked, a little more harshly than I’d expected from him.
“I thought you didn’t want to know about him?” I challenged.
“I changed my mind,” he fired right back.
I narrowed my eyes to slits, and he did the same.
“He’s not here,” I said. “He’s in San Francisco on business.”
Then I turned on my heel and walked away wondering what I’d ever seen in that asshole. I was right to think that being friends with him would never work.
“Tell him I said hi when you talk to him then,” Beckett called after me, the sarcasm dripping from his words.
“Fuck-off,” I said over my shoulder, shooting him the finger as I did so.
Eight
I knew he wouldn’t answer, but I dialed Ryan’s number anyway. An hour later, Beckett still had me fuming, and I needed to get out the anger. I sat on the steps of the front porch willing Ryan to pick up.
When the voicemail kicked on, I said. “Hey babe, it’s me. I wanted to talk to you, but you’re not answering, so I will vent to your voicemail. I’m having a shitty time at this party, and I really wish you were here. I
ran into my asshole ex-boyfriend who succeeded in pissing me off – big shocker there. If you were here maybe you could kick his ass for me. Anyway, I’m probably not staying much longer, so call me when you get this. I’ll just be at home with Gryffin. Love you. Bye.”
I sat there for a few minutes feeling like I wanted to cry and not really knowing why. When I stood up to go back to the party I felt eyes on me. I turned around to see Beckett standing in the open front doorway, leaning against the door jam. I hadn’t heard the door open, so I didn’t know how long he’d been there.
“I think I could take him,” he said, taking a step forward.
“Screw you,” I said, but I didn’t walk away. I stood there facing him, arms crossed over my chest, challenging him to say something else.
Beckett took a few steps forward so we were a few inches apart. “You miss him, huh?” he asked then, and I could hear a softening in his voice.
“Yes,” I snapped. “He’s my fiancé. Of course I miss him.”
It had been harder than I’d thought to call Ryan my fiancé, but my resolve to jab the knife further into Beckett was stronger. I watched his smug expression falter just a touch when I said that. Mission accomplished.
“I’m sure he wishes he was here too,” he said then, as he reached forward and pushed a lock of my hair behind my ear.
The gesture caught me by surprise, so I just stood there. I should have pushed his hand away, but it was so natural that it didn’t even faze me in the way it should have. It was something he used to do all the time.
“I’m not an asshole, Court,” he said then. “You know that.”
“Then stop acting like one,” I said.
“Okay. I will.”
“Good,” I said, my tone challenging.
“Good,” he whispered, his tone as soft as butter.
We stared at each other for a few minutes, neither of us saying anything. I took note of the smattering of freckles across the bridge of his nose and the tiny scar over his right eye that he’d gotten one Fourth of July from a piece of flying glass he’d been hit with when a bottle rocket Patrick had made exploded. We spent the night in the emergency room, and Beckett got five stitches.
“I should get back to the party,” I finally said. My heart was suddenly pounding its way out of my chest, as a memory of a feeling struck me unexpectedly. I suddenly needed to get away from him and fast, or I might do something I’d regret.
“Me too,” he said. His eyes were locked deep into mine, and I wondered what he was thinking. “I actually have to take care of something. You should make sure you’re there. It’s going to be good.”
I was too afraid to say anything for fear of what might come out of my mouth, so I just turned on my heel and walked back toward the backyard. I could tell he was watching me leave. I crossed my arms, as I walked back through the gate. I didn’t know what had just transpired, but I knew that I definitely wasn’t comfortable with it.
As soon as I got to the backyard, I looked for Summer. I wanted to tell her I was leaving. I’d had just about enough fun for one night. I walked around for a few minutes, until I saw she was by the bar. I started to walk over to her when the music stopped. I looked up to see Beckett standing by the CD player. He caught me looking at him and smiled conspiratorially at me. It was a weird gesture.
People all around me were yelling and questioning why the music had been silenced. Patrick’s voice then came over the din of the crowd. He was standing on top of the picnic table. He was still wearing his grass skirt, but had also added a Hawaiian lei to his ensemble. He held up his hands and asked everyone to be quiet. It took a minute, but everyone was finally silent.
“Summer,” he called out to the crowd. She looked up from where she stood by the bar. “Come here.” He beckoned her with his pointer finger.
She smiled and started to walk toward him. He stuck his hand out to help her up to the top of the table. She tottered a little on her heels, but he had a good grip on her. “Everyone,” he said, to the throng of party-goers. “For those you who don’t know, this is my amazing girlfriend Summer.”
I looked up at her. She seemed embarrassed by the attention. She was grasping her beer with more force than she needed to. I tried to catch her eye, but she wasn’t looking in my direction.
“Summer and I have been dating for six years. I don’t know what she was thinking back in high school when we got together, but because of her poor judgment, I got lucky.”
Summer smiled over at him, and I saw her mouth, ‘I love you’ to him. Patrick was always so self-deprecating, but in a good way. He was the first person to laugh at himself. It was one of his most endearing qualities.
“I pretty much consider myself the luckiest person on the planet for getting to be with her.” Summer was blushing and looking down at her shoes. “I know this had been a long time coming, but Summer, I love you. Will you marry me?”
Summer’s head snapped up and she looked at him. He was on one knee, holding out a ring. Her eyes went wide, as she stared down at him. My jaw dropped, as I realized what he had just done. Even though I’d known about the ring, I hadn’t expected a proposal that night. Then I felt happy tears form in my eyes. I smiled at them, thinking how in love they were. All over the party, all eyes were on them, waiting for her reply.
“Yes! Yes!” she shrieked, jumping up and down.
She pulled him up to his full height and threw her arms around his neck, almost knocking him off the picnic table when she hugged him. She was crying, and he was laughing. She looked so incredibly happy as Patrick finally slid the ring I had helped him pick out onto her finger. Everyone around me was clapping and cheering.
I looked at Beckett. He was looking at them and grinning widely. He turned the music back on and ‘All You Need is Love’ by the Beatles was playing. Patrick and Summer were preoccupied with kissing each other on top of the picnic table until people started shouting for them to get a room. Summer looked out at the crowd sheepishly. Her eyes connected with mine, and she held up her left hand. I held mine up in return, feeling suddenly guilty as I could feel Beckett’s eyes were on me. I quickly pulled my hand down and blew Summer a double-handed kiss instead.
***
A few hours later, I still hadn’t got around to leaving, but many other people had. The party had pretty much thinned out over the last hour. I’d ended up having a pretty good time, but that was mostly due to the fact that I didn’t talk to Beckett again. Summer had run over to me right after she and Patrick climbed down from the picnic table. She couldn’t stop crying, laughing and jumping up and down. I wondered what it would be like to feel that way after getting engaged. After a few minutes, Patrick ambled over and slid his arms around Summer from behind. Summer turned around and kissed him, and that was one of the last times I had talked to either of them all night. They spent the rest of the evening in the corner of the yard talking and kissing. Somewhere around midnight, they disappeared. I had to assume they were in Patrick’s bedroom.
I was starting to wonder if Summer was ever coming down so we could leave. I didn’t feel great about walking back to the T alone and suddenly wished I would have left hours earlier. I pulled out my phone for the hundredth time to see if Ryan had called or texted, but he hadn’t. Debating whether I should call a cab, I sat down on the porch swing on the back porch.
As I looked out across the party I saw there were only about twenty or so people left. When two of them moved to the right, I saw that Beckett was leaning against the back fence staring off to his right at nothing in particular. Then he turned, and his eyes locked with mine and he smiled. It seemed like a peace offering, so I smiled back, and then quickly looked away. When I looked back, I saw him walking toward me.
He was mouthing the words to ‘Come As You Are’ by Nirvana which was playing on the stereo, grinning and making goofy faces at me as he walked up the porch steps. I couldn’t help smiling, as I remembered sitting in his room listening to that very song. It was one of the f
irst he introduced me to when he determined that I needed a full education in grunge rock.
“You looked sad,” he said, as he stood in front of me. I looked up at him. “I figured you needed to smile, and that song always used to make you smile.”
“I hate that you know me so well,” I said.
“It’s not so bad,” he said, sitting down next to me, “knowing someone as well as you know yourself.”
I decided that was debatable.
“He didn’t call did he?” Beckett asked then.
Was I really that transparent? I looked down at my cell phone. It was still clutched in my hands.
“No, he didn’t. Not that it’s any of your business,” I added just so he knew where we stood.
I leaned against the back of the swing and let out a long slow breath. Beckett didn’t say anything at first, but out of the corner of my eye, I could see him studying me carefully. He picked up the next lyrics and sang them softly, leaning back against the swing, rocking us lightly. I sang the next line barely above a whisper, finishing the lyrics where he’d stopped.
“Nice,” he said.
We swung there quietly for a minute as he hummed the rest of the song to himself, and I listened, remembering how easy it was for him to memorize lyrics, quoting them outright in conversation if the need arose. I’d forgotten he did that.
“So are you coming to me as an enemy, a memory or a friend?” I asked, curious about his intentions. I thought it was clever to tie in the song we’d just been singing.
The song had been followed on the stereo by a new one by Rihanna which made me wonder who had put the playlist together. It had certainly taken an eclectic turn after being heavy in emo and grunge rock for the past hour.
“I’m going to go with a memory and a friend,” he said, squinting over at me, judging my reaction.
“Good,” I said, “because I’m really not looking for any more enemies right now.”
We rocked in silence before Beckett broke in with a question. “So, who’s Gryffin?” he asked, taking me by surprise.
“What?” I asked, laughing lightly.
Just Watch the Fireworks Page 7