I looked over to the sofa where he was quietly working on his laptop, the glow from the screen making the lines on his face sharper than ever. Inside his apartment it was all shadows of varying shades of grey as neither of us had bothered to turn on a light.
‘Hey, this song usually means the fireworks are about to start,’ I said.
He looked up. ‘Outside?’
‘Well, not in here I hope,’ I retorted and he raised his eyebrow at me and gave a half laugh.
‘Are you done for the day? Shall I walk you home or…’ He was uncharacteristically hesitant as he set his laptop aside and stood up. ‘Would you like to watch the fireworks from here?’
‘Oh, could I? You’re gonna have such an amazing view.’ Perhaps I should have felt awkward about outstaying my welcome but I was a happy mix of elated and exhausted after finishing the biggest part of my revisions, I couldn’t bear the thought of going home to just collapse on my bed. I knew, despite how tired I was, I’d just lie there with my brain still whirring, unable to get out of hyper-productive mode.
And I couldn’t bear the thought of leaving, when I’d spent all this time around him and not even really talked to him. What kind of gratitude would that show?
He smiled – that wide, devastating smile he had – putting my mind at rest that he didn’t want to get shot of me. ‘Would you like a beer?’
‘That would be perfect.’ While he was looking inside his refrigerator, I got to my feet and stretched, rolling my neck so it crunched. God, I’d been hunched over for hours. The table was right next to the windows and just in the corner of the room was a Juliet balcony.
‘D’you mind if I open this?’
‘Go ahead.’ He came over with two bottles, handed me one, then stood back. Of course. He wouldn’t want to stand there; we were too high up. I hesitated a moment, the fresh air calling to me but the desire to be close to him was even stronger. He was leaning back against the edge of the table, facing the river, andI piled my notebooks up and pushed them out of the way so I could hop up and sit next to him.
He’d changed at some point, into a soft grey T-shirt and sweats. They were loose and comfortable-looking but clung to him in a myriad of places that made my brain feel like it was going to short-circuit: the curve of his bicep; the long, strong lines of his back; resting on his narrow hips. With my book out of my head, all I seemed to have space to think about was him.
‘Are you going to meet your deadline, now?’ he asked.
‘Yes. Enough that I’m not worried about torpedoing my career anyway.’
‘That’s worth a toast of some kind.’ He raised his bottle up towards me.
‘It is, but I’ve run out of the good words. Something-something-yay.’ I raised my bottle and clinked it to his as he laughed. We both took a drink and quiet fell between us.
He cleared his throat. ‘Can I ask you something?’
‘Course. Not sure how much sense I’ll make when I try to answer but go for it.’
‘Beth said you wanted to speak to her urgently at the weekend. Was that…was that to tell her about Nick wanting to propose?’
I racked my brain trying to think what he was referring to and shook my head. Ihadwanted to speak to Beth but not about Nick. I’d wanted to talk to her about Stephen. I remembered sending the message once I got home, my head full of how it had felt to find myself curled up against him in the taxi. How I’d wanted to drag him into my apartment, drunk on his presence and desperate for more of him. But I’d been a yo-yo with regard to my attraction for him that day – one minute convinced I wanted to have him around as a friend for the rest of the summer, the next recognising that if I attempted it, the desire for more was going to become unbearable. I’d managed tocontrol the impulse that night but I needed to speak to someone who would understand everything; who knew him and would be objective about her advice. About whether I needed to ignore my growing feelings for him or…do something else.
But he thought I’d been going behind his back to betray his confidence? I was all ready to feel completely outraged about it when I remembered that was basically what I’d done on New Years.
‘No.’ I shook my head, putting my bottle down beside me on the table and pushing my hair back from my face. ‘No. I wasn’t going to tell her that. It was about something else. Of course I won’t – that would ruin it.’
‘Great. Good. Thank you. Nick would’ve been so angry with me.’ He exhaled heavily, picking at the label on his beer bottle. For a moment he looked so much younger, like a teenager who had broken something precious and against all odds managed to mend it before he got found out.
If he’d been so worried about me doing that, why had he still been offering to help me out today? Seriously, what had I done to deserve him looking out for me this way? This wasn’t how men like him acted, was it? Just like at the weekend when he pitched in with my family and rocked little Brigid to sleep, and so many other little things he’d said and done over the last few weeks that kept screaming at me that I’d got him wrong.
And what had he got wrong about himself? He was convinced that he couldn’t have a long-term relationship because he was just like his dad, but the man sitting next to me couldn’t seem further from it. He was a care-taker, through and through. Whether it was his brother, or me, or a stranger…and when you put that in the mix with his wit and competency and drop-dead-gorgeous looks, it was no wonder I was drowning in my attraction to him.
The first fireworks went off in a line down the edge of the Brooklyn Bridge, and then the red, white and blue plumes blossomed up against the black sky. Cheers went up as the display grew larger and noisier.
‘Oh, they’re my favourites,’ I said, pointing out the swirling snake-like spirals that lifted up and up near the bank of the river. The water glittered beneath the overlapping booms and sparkles, but I missed half of it because I was too busy watching Stephen. How the flashing lights threw shadows across the angles of his face, and he looked different and more beautiful every time.
The noise built to a roar over the next half hour; whoops and shouts cresting as rockets screamed overhead. At some point I found myself pressing my arm against his, my right hand lined up against his left as we held on to the edge of the table. Between the swirling colours, the sedative of the beer and my own fatigue, I was finding it harder and harder to resist the pull my body felt towards his.
‘I know I’m probably biased, but this firework show is pretty spectacular,’ I said, as the last giant fireworks fanned out across the black sky, raining silver down on the city. There was a collective moment of silence and then raucous applause lifted up. ‘What did you think? This was your first July Fourth in the US, right? I know spending it indoors with me is probably not the best way to appreciate the experience…’
He smiled at the view out of the window of drifting smoke, before turning that lethal face card on me. ‘Itwasspectacular, I’m never going to forget this.’
