There’s something about fireworks.
The crisp crackle of them equals a promise, and it’s suddenly okay to wish on new beginnings. It’s okay to wish on kisses from the boy you’re sharing a towel with on a dark sandy beach on the Fourth of July while the bright lights wheeze their way upward to bust open the sky above.
Maybe I got caught up in the idea of fireworks on that night seven months ago when Leo weaved his way through the masses to plop down next to me, still smelling like sunblock at nine p.m.
We’d just met but had been flirting all day. A smile here. A touch there. By the afternoon, we were tangled feet under the ocean water. He was at least as tall as me and wore red-, white-, and blue-striped board shorts that were more subtle than cheesy.
“Summer,” he said, leaning back on his elbows in the sand as the sun skimmed the horizon. “Doesn’t it seem like everything lasts longer? A week feels like a year.”
“So a day feels like a week?”
He looked at me. Squinted. “More like a month.”
“So you’ve known me a month.”
“Yeah.” He smiled. Shy. “It’s been a good month.”
What he’d said was true. My arrival at the beach with Mila at ten a.m. felt like weeks ago. Since then there had been bodysurfing and volleyball and a bonfire. Lunch. Dinner. Multiple applications of sunblock. Beer.
All day long, Leo had been at my side, asking me questions and answering mine. He was funny and smart and thoughtful. And even though I was wearing a bikini, he looked at my eyes when he talked to me. It’s sad how that’s a thing you notice when you’re a girl at the beach. I wondered how I hadn’t talked to him before, but maybe it’s because we weren’t meant to talk until that day.
In the dark, a few hours later, waiting for fireworks, he handed me an unlit sparkler stick.
“Want me to light it?” he asked, nudging his broad swimmer’s shoulder against mine.
“Yes. I want you to light me up.” I’d intended to make a joke, but I realized how it sounded and wished I could disappear.
But Leo laughed.
“Just you wait, Babcock,” he said, flicking a lighter open and holding the flame to the tip of my sparkler. The fire sizzled and swirled, shooting sparks into the air and onto the sand where they instantly died. “Just you wait.”