Chapter Fifteen
Brittany
This should be good enough.
I stare down into my open bag, chewing on my bottom lip as I mentally go through what I’ve packed for the trip to Florida.
I think I have everything, but the bathing suits I shoved in the corner?
Yeah, I’m not sure if they still fit. I haven’t been keeping up with my workout routine, and I wonder if the time off has caused my butt to grow…
Ugh. Why did we have to go to the beach? I brush my hair out of my face, and then let out a big sigh. I know I should be more excited about it, but for some reason the idea of meeting all of Harlee’s lifelong friends is a reminder that I don’t really have any.
Most of my friends moved out of the city, even the ones I had in law school. They’re the kind of people I catch up with every so often, and we chat on occasion, but for the most part, I live my life with everyone at arm’s length.
The thought makes me frown.
All the more reason to make some new ones.
I let out a sigh then zip up my bag. I drop the suitcase to the floor and pull up on the handle, rolling it toward the doorway of my bedroom.
I pause at the full-length mirror, taking in my black leggings and white graphic T-shirt. It has some sort of flower on it, and it matches the scrunchy holding up my blonde locks in a ponytail. I’m going for casual on this trip, and hoping everyone else is, too.
My sneakers squeak across the floor as I roll my bag to the kitchen, where I grab my backpack with my purse in it. I’ve tried to pack as light as possible—just a personal item and carry-on. Despite being a girl who likes to look nice, I’m kind of a minimalist, too.
I fling my backpack over my shoulder and slip out of the apartment with my carry-on in tow, ensuring the door locks behind me. A wave of nerves floods my system, but I let it be, amping myself up.
You’re going to make new friends. This is exciting. This is good!
I continue my inner pep talk as I make it to the ground floor and step off the elevator. I already know that Harlee is waiting for me outside in the Uber, I just need to get with the program and get to her. I step out and head straight for the doors.
“Hey, wait! Excuse me!” a voice calls from somewhere behind me. At first, I don’t think they’re talking to me, so I keep walking. “Brittany Harris?”
But now, I’m stopping.
“Yes?” I turn around to see a short, redheaded woman with sweat beading across her forehead rushing to me with a package in her hands. I realize it’s the woman who works the front desk and instantly feel guilty for not turning around right away.
“This came for you.” She huffs, holding it out. “It got here about fifteen minutes ago, actually.”
I nod slowly, eyeing the smallish white box in her hands. I don’t remember ordering anything right off the top of my head, but then again, maybe I forgot.
“Here.” She basically shoves it into my arms and scampers off, muttering some version of what I think is, “Have a good day.”
“You, too,” I mumble, trying not to get in my head about how annoyed with me she seemed. Everyone has bad days. Maybe today’s a bad one for her.
I shake off the thought and stare down at the box, reading my name printed neatly in bold letters.
I instantly recognize the blocky handwriting.
He wrote me back. A smile creeps across my face as I tuck it under my arm, not wanting to make Harlee wait any longer.
I’ll just open it up in the car. I slip outside, breathing in the fresh air before spotting a passenger rear window of a blue Tahoe rolling down.
“Brittany!” Harlee calls out to me in her cute southern accent, waving her hand around in the most dramatic manner. “Come on! I’m ready to see those beautiful blue waves!”
“I’m coming!” I call back, giggling at the urgency in her voice.
I scurry down the front steps of my apartment building, juggling all my things at once.
I feel off-balance and nearly trip over my own two feet as I reach the sidewalk.
I let out a huff of frustration and look up just in time to see Harlee hopping out of the car.
“I’m so excited!” she squeals, as she comes to help me. I let her take my bag and toss it into the back of the SUV, loading up my backpack alongside it.
We then climb into the back seat, and I untuck the package from my arm. She eyes me, then the box.
“I don’t mean to be nosy, but … is there a reason you’re bringing your mail with you to Florida?”
I look over at her cocked brow and then laugh. “Well, it’s from my…” My voice trails off as I try to come up with what Weston really is to me. A friend? An acquaintance? “Pen pal?” I say the last one out loud, sounding more like I’m asking rather than telling.
“That’s … interesting.” Harlee giggles. “But super cool. Is there like a website or something where you can sign up for one? I kinda want a pen pal that sends me packages.”
“I’m sure there’s gotta be some kind of website out there to solicit pen pals, but I wouldn’t know from experience.
” I chuckle, tearing through the packing tape.
“My, um, pen pal, is my brother’s best friend.
We just kind of started this weird thing …
I don’t really know what it is…” My train of thought dies as I flip open the lid.
What in the world?
I pull out some sort of red cape. Upon further inspection, I realize it has the Superman logo on it. I’m both confused and amused as I lay it out across my lap, searching the package for whatever else might be inside that might explain what the meaning of this is.
“Okay, so I didn’t know you were into cosplay.” Harlee giggles from beside me. “I dig it. That’s cool.”
“I’m not into cosplay.” I laugh. “And I’m honestly just as confused as you are.”
She falls into silence, watching as I dig through the packing paper. I eventually find an envelope and quickly tear it open to retrieve the card. It’s got Superman on the front, but it doesn’t say anything, so I flip it open.
Brittany,
So, I found out it was Superman’s birthday.
Well, mostly. It’s on February 29th, and I get that it might not be a leap year this year, but can we really skip Superman’s birthday?
Polly and I are having a great time celebrating together.
All this time, I knew my apartment was missing something. Turns out, it was a cat.
I figured you could celebrate with us by adorning the lovely cape I enclosed. It seems like it might be fitting for the pantsuits you have to wear at work. I wonder how that’d go over in court? Hmm … Maybe you shouldn’t try it.
For the record, I’ve been okay. I’ve decided I might be the permanent third wheel for Parker and Amy, but I’m happy for the two of them.
They belong together; she’s the polar opposite of his perpetual grumpiness.
Maybe, eventually, if we’re lucky, they’ll somehow balance each other out.
Do you think that’s possible? Somehow, I picture them staying at their current extremes of happy and grumpy.
How has your new apartment been treating you? What have you been up to? How have you been? Is that too many questions for one letter? I can’t decide.
Regardless, Happy Birthday, Superman.
Sincerely,
Weston
P.S. If you could have any superpower, what would it be? I think mine would probably be invisibility. I could totally people-watch without anyone knowing.
I giggle at the last part of the letter, and when I look up and fold it shut, I see Harlee watching me with a newfound curiosity. I hand her the card. “Go ahead, indulge yourself. I know you want to.”
A grin stretches across her face. “I mean, I won’t say no to that.” She takes the card from me, and I take a closer look at the cape. It’s not some cheaply-made costume piece. It’s actually pretty nice, which only makes me smile harder.
“This is seriously adorable,” Harlee says, nudging me with her elbow. “I’m so into this! It’s kind of romantic.”
I furrow my brow, taking the card back from her and tucking it into the box. “Romantic? What do you mean, romantic?” In my mind, writing silly letters to Weston is anything but romantic. Not to mention, my brother wouldn’t be cool with it if it were more than just a friendly exchange.
“I mean that letter writing is practically a lost art, and it’s so beautiful.
That, in and of itself, is romantic.” She gets this distant look in her eye as she continues.
“Just imagine! What if you two were to fall in love through the pen? Ugh, then you’d have your whole love story right there, in written form.
You’d be able to re-live it as much as you want. Your kids could read it.”
My heart squeezes at the notion. “But he’s my brother’s best friend. Parker would murder me if I pursued him. Well, actually, more like murder Weston. But still.”
Harlee lets out a fast exhale. “Oh, so it’s forbidden! That makes it even more sweet, don’t cha think? It’s like a twenty-first century version of Romeo and Juliet. I’m here for it. I’ll be your maid of honor.”
“Whoa, let’s not get ahead of ourselves here. I just got un-engaged. I have no interest in planning a fictional wedding. I feel like that’s just setting me up for more heartbreak.” I let out a dry laugh, but my stomach knots up at the thought. It’s too sensitive to even play with the idea.
I really thought Cal was the one.
“Sorry.” Harlee gives me a sympathetic look, then reaches out and squeezes my hand.
“It’s too soon, and I’m so sorry. I was just trying to lighten the mood, you know?
I think the pen pal thing really is sweet—even if it’s just as friends.
Weston seems like a lot of fun. You should totally write him from Florida.
That would be so cute…” Her voice trails off as the SUV pulls into the airport.
“Oh!” Her eyes widen, turning to me. “Let’s take a pic of you wearing the cape on the beach! You can send it to him!”
I fall into silence, mulling it over. “You know…” I picture it in my head. “That actually might be really cool. I bet he would get a good laugh out of it.”
“Yes!” Harlee pumps her fist. “We’re totally gonna do it.”
The car pulls up to the terminal, and we pile out. The driver helps us with our bags, and I take a moment to tuck the card and cape into my backpack, which almost feels like I’m taking a little piece of Weston with me to Florida.
And I don’t know why that feels like something sentimental, but it does.
Maybe this will be fun.