Nine
Sadie Jane, if you don’t put down that phone right now, I swear to god!” Nick throws this empty threat at me while he’s waist-deep in the calm bay water.
I flip him off from my spot in a beach chair under an umbrella and return my attention to my phone. After posting another photo of a recent arrangement, I check my DMs. There are a couple of inquiries, which I answer, keeping my fingers crossed that at least a few of them turn into orders. My sales have been growing, steadily but slowly. Really slowly. And even though it’s a holiday and I’m sure most people will be away from their phones, I want to make sure I address all potential customer questions as quickly as possible.
But I know Nick is probably just a few seconds from throwing me over his shoulder and carrying me into the water like the caveman he is deep down inside, so once all DMs have been answered, I click off my phone, holding it tightly in my hand like some kind of millennial rosary, praying for some good business news.
“Sadie!” This time the scream comes from my three so-called besties and my roommate—the traitor—who apparently all have little to no regard for my entrepreneur life.
“Okay, fine! You imbeciles!” I toss my phone into my straw beach bag, making a mental note to put a bouquet in it later and snap a beachside photo.
I tug off my flowy dress, revealing my very hot, hot-pink bikini underneath. Turning up my best Baywatch impression, I slow-motion run down the sand and into the water, diving into the cool blue and resurfacing at the little circle the gang has created. And yeah, I might throw a glance Jack’s way to see if he’s watching.
He’s definitely watching.
Nick pulls a canned rosé from the floating cooler and cracks it open before handing it to me. “Did you really just trade one job with endless hours for a different job with endless hours?”
I take a long sip of the sparkling wine, letting it cool the heat flushing my cheeks ever since I noticed Jack noticing me. “Yes. But these are working-for-me hours, so it’s different.”
Harley bumps me with her hip. “I’m proud of you, girl. I know it hasn’t been easy, but things are starting to pick up.”
“As evidenced by the constant array of flowers all over my house.” Jack gives me one of his half-cocked smiles and little bubbles float up into my chest.
But that could be the rosé.
“Maybe one day I’ll actually be able to open my own shop.” Assuming I don’t go bankrupt first.
Nick flicks a tiny splash of water at me. “It’s been two months, let’s have a dose of realism here.”
“It’s been two and a half months. And I’ve never been a fan of realism.” I argue with him not because he’s wrong, but because he’s Nick.
Gemma, currently perched on a giant flamingo-shaped raft, paddles back over to us after having drifted off on the current. “You’re one of the realest people I know, Sadie Jane.”
I push her back away from the group. “I just like talking shit, that’s all.”
Nick raises his beer in the air. “And we love you for it. As long as we aren’t the subject of it.”
“You guys are perfect, what shit could I possibly have to talk about you?” I send an air kiss to each of them.
Harley links her arm through mine. “That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to any of us.”
“What can I say? I’m a giver.” I chug the rest of my rosé and hand Nick the empty can. “Now give me some more wine. Please.”
Nick sticks a can in a pineapple-shaped floating coaster and sends it my way.
Popping the top, I hold up my can. “I can’t say I’ve always been proud to be an American in the past few years, but one thing is for damn sure, I’m proud of all of you. Happy Fourth, bitches!”
They all echo my toast, and we clink our cans together.
“Fuck, Sade, the sentimentality is off the charts today.” Gemma blows me a kiss and I flip her off.
The rest of the afternoon passes in a haze of canned cocktails and floating on the waves, until we get tired of the beach and head back to the house to kick the drinking up a notch and float in the pool. Nick’s parents invited a bunch of friends over for a barbecue, so the yard fills with people and chatter and music and the occasional burst of fireworks from neighboring houses.
We stuff our faces with hot dogs and corn on the cob and fresh berries arranged in the shape of an American flag. And when the “adult” company becomes too boring for the likes of us, we grab blankets, s’mores supplies, and a few bottles of wine and head back to the beach.
Nick and Jack get a bonfire going while Harley and Gemma stab marshmallows onto the end of skewers. I open a bottle of wine and divvy it up among five paper cups. I couldn’t even tell you how many drinks I’ve had throughout the day, but despite the constant buzz, I haven’t crossed the line into drunk. At least not yet. Instead my insides feel all warm and squishy, as likely due to the company as to the booze circulating through my veins.
Nick and Harley cuddle up on a blanket, for the first time not bothering to hide their obvious affection. Gemma and I share a long look, mostly a giddy happy one, but one tinged with just the tiniest smidge of worry. Worry about what might happen to our fearsome foursome should things not go how we all want them to. Despite my declaration to Harley last night, I don’t know what would happen to the group should things take a turn for the breakup, and the thought low-key terrifies me. But tonight is not the night for thoughts like that. Tonight is for realizing I’ve never seen two of my best friends happier, and for being happy for them.
Gemma folds herself down next to me on our blanket, linking our arms together, sharing a reassuring squeeze. Jack sits directly across from me on the other side of the fire. I meet his bright green gaze and a wide, genuine smile spreads across his face. It’s been nice to see him loosen up a little bit since being here with the group. He’s looking a little lighter, a little younger, and a lot more content.
It’s a good look on him.
After our second bottle of wine and too many s’mores to count, Nick and Harley throw in the towel and call it a night, walking back to the house hand in hand. Judging by the lights and the noise, the party in the backyard is still going strong. I wonder whether they’ll stroll in intertwined or if they’ll continue to hide their relationship in front of Nick’s family. I squint to try to see what they decide, but the shadows make it too dark to know for sure.
Gemma finishes up her glass of wine, then pushes up off the blanket. “I’m going to pack it in too. I’m beat.”
“Do you need me to walk you back to the house?” Jack starts to rise.
Gemma shoos him off. “I’m good. Just listen for my screams.”
I roll my eyes. “We’ll watch you until you get to the gate.”
She squats down a little so she can look me in the eye. “You good?”
There’s a lot of layers to that question. Do I want to stay here alone with Jack? Am I going to do something I might regret thanks to the copious amount of imbibing throughout the day? Is there a chance I’ll pass out on this blanket?
All valid questions.
But I smile and give her a reassuring hand squeeze. “I’m good.”
Gemma waves good night and treks back to the house. We watch her until she reaches the back gate, as promised.
Flopping on the blanket, I lie flat on my back so I can look up and see the stars. Stars are one of the few things New York City life can’t provide, but here on the beach, a ton of them are sprinkled in the midnight sky above, like a pot of glitter exploded over a swath of navy velvet.
“Get your ass over here, Jackpot.” I might be tempting fate by inviting my suddenly sexy roommate to share a blanket under the stars, but I don’t much care. I’d like to blame it on the rosé, but really, I just want Jack to be near me.
He chuckles, and a few seconds later lowers himself next to me, sitting with his knees pulled into his chest, a beer bottle dangling from his fingers. “You all right down there?”
“Just looking at the stars.”
He tilts his head up. “It’s one of the few things I miss from growing up in Connecticut.”
“You grew up in Connecticut?” My attention is successfully pulled from the sky and focused on Jack. Who just revealed a truth.
He takes a long drink of his beer, like he didn’t mean to actually tell me that. “Yup.”
I let the quiet sit, wondering if he’s kind of like Harley and needs the space to speak on his own terms. And it’s a quiet I’m willing to endure because I want him to tell me more. Not just to sate my curiosity but because I want to know him.
But he doesn’t say anything, just finishes his beer and lies down next to me. Only a couple of inches separate us, and heat radiates from him, warming my already flushed skin. My heart rate kicks up, and as buzzed as I still am, I’m suddenly aware of every molecule of detail blanketing us in this moment. My eyes return to the stars, the close distance/eye contact combo too overwhelming.
“Sade?” My name rolls off his tongue like a promise.
“Yeah?” My lungs are so fluttery, I barely manage to get the one word out.
He clears his throat. “Thank you.”
His eyes burn into my cheek like the sunburn I know I’ll have in the morning, but I avoid turning my head. “For what?”
He inches his hand a little closer to mine, leaving just the tiniest sliver of space between our pinkies. “For including me. And accepting me.”
I brush my little finger against his. It’s the faintest hint of contact, but it zings through every inch of me.
“It’s been a long time since I’ve felt included.” His pinky finger moves over mine, locking them together.
I turn to meet his gaze, but his eyes are back on the sky above. “It could never work between us, Jack.” I mean it to come out as a joke, a pinprick in the tiny bubble of sexual tension that’s been steadily growing between us. But the truth of the words makes them heavy. He’s too good, too pure, a nice guy from top to bottom and back to front. And I’m none of those things. I’m the antithesis of those things. We’re two vastly different people from vastly different worlds, with lifestyles that could never mesh.
“I know.”
I suck in a breath, the words crumpling my heart like it’s a wadded-up piece of paper. It’s one thing to know I’m not good enough. It’s another to hear it straight from him.
His head shifts away from the stars, finally meeting my eyes. “I’m still an absolute mess, Sadie. I would wreck you. And I could never forgive myself for that.”
I tighten my hold on his pinky, mimicking the tightening in my chest. “Jack . . .”
He brings our joined hands up, kissing my palm before releasing my finger. “We should head back.”
My lungs ache like I just got the wind knocked out of me. Which I did. I want to yank him back down to the blanket and demand we talk this out, because clearly this cannot be the end of the conversation. I can’t let him walk away from this beach thinking he’s the problem when I’m so clearly the destroyer between us.
But Jack is already gathering the blankets, folding them up and tucking them under his arm. He holds out a hand to help me stand, and I take it, even though the feel of his skin on mine is like ice-cold fire.
We walk back to the house in complete silence. At the bottom of the stairs, he gives me a sad smile, squeezing my hand before heading off to his room without another word.
I stand there in the dark for a few minutes before I finally force my feet to carry me up the stairs, where I fall into bed and, thankfully, into an alcohol-and-heartache-induced sleep.
GEMMA: So when were you going to tell us the big news, Sade?
ME: Is the news that I’m still in bed because I was at the bar until 3 am because my business totally sucks and I’m going to be a bartender for the rest of my life?
HARLEY: Maybe you should go check your Instagram, hon.
ME: Holy fuck, I have almost 500 new followers!
GEMMA: Yeah you do! Look who tagged you!
ME: OH MY GOD. SHE HAS 2M FOLLOWERS!!!!!!!!!
ME: Guys, I have like 100 DMs!
ME: Hopefully some of them aren’t dicks!
GEMMA: If you see any good-looking dicks, feel free to send them my way.
HARLEY: Gross.
HARLEY: Congrats, Sadie! This could be a major turning point!
ME: I gotta go, time to sell some motherfuckin’ flowers!
JACK: I don’t have any plans on Saturday if you need help making deliveries.
JACK: I know I lack the signature Sadie charm, but I’m around if you need me.
ME: That’s very sweet, but I can’t ask you to work for me for free and I can’t afford to pay you.
JACK: I really don’t mind.
ME: You already contribute way more to this friendship, dude. The power imbalance is wild.
JACK: What are you talking about?
ME: You’re the one bringing everything to the table here.
JACK: Sadie.
JACK: You don’t actually think that.
ME: Them’s the facts, Jack.
JACK: The offer stands if you need me.
HARLEY: So we went out to dinner with Nick’s parents last weekend . . .
ME: AND?
GEMMA: Did you double-check to make sure he’s not on this thread?
HARLEY: Like ten times.
ME: OK AND???????
HARLEY: And it was great. His mom said, “We were wondering if the two of you were ever going to get your shit together.”
ME: Awwwww yay!
GEMMA: I call dibs on the KitchenAid mixer!
HARLEY: Haha.
GEMMA: You think I’m joking. One of Nick’s rich-ass friends can buy you a new one for your wedding
ME: I’m so happy for you, Harley!
GEMMA: Me too! I promise those aren’t sobs of loneliness and abandonment you’re hearing coming from my room every night.
ME: Sooooooooooooooo
ME: Remember when I was all like I don’t need your help and I’m a strong independent woman and I refuse to rely on a man?
JACK: I don’t recall those exact words, but yes, I remember the general conversation.
ME: I really need your help.
ME: Please.
ME: Pretty please.
ME: With a cherry on top.
ME: I’ll buy you drinks if you come to the bar tonight!
JACK: I’m just putting a shirt on, I’ll be right there.
ME: Hmmm. Shirtless floral delivery, you might have something there.