still ill • michael gray

Chapter 8

I didn't see myself returning to the country club after the brunch, because frankly I didn't want to go. However, they're doing a whole fireworks show, and Michael of course wanted to see it. I of course couldn't let my own personal sentiments get in the way of his enjoyment of the holiday, so here I am, back at the stupid country club, watching fireworks on the beach just fifteen feet from my ex-boyfriend.

He keeps eyeing Michael and I with confusion in his eyes. He's going to approach sooner or later.

"I like this holiday," he mumbles into my hair.

"And why is that?" I lean my head on his shoulder.

He kisses the top of my head, "First of all, I get to spend it with you. Second of all, it's good for business. Finally, it's all part of my new beginning here in America."

I blush, "I thought you were going to say that it's because you like the things going boom."

He chuckles, "I do, but it doesn't sound nearly as smart and introspective as the other things."

I sit back up and raise my eyebrows, "Since when did you feel the need to sound smart and introspective?"

He gestures to John D. Rockefeller III sitting fifteen feet to our left, "Since I found out that was my competition."

I shake my head, "Oh please, there's no competition. He isn't as handsome, interesting, or hardworking as you are. Most importantly, he was only ever able to fuck me half as good as you do."

"Half as good still isn't too shabby," he smirks.

"Shut up," I laugh.

He points to the fireworks in awe, "Bea look at that one."

"That's the grand finale," I sigh, "prepare to introduce yourself to Johnny over there."

He bites his lip, "I can't wait."

"Be civil," I remind as I rise to my feet.

"I think I should be telling you the same," I help him up off the ground and pick up our blanket. "If anything I'm more civil than you are."

I fold the blanket angrily, "Bullshit."

"Here he comes," he whispers.

I look up from my folding to see John approaching. "Smile," I murmur to Michael.

My ex bears a pleasantly fake grin, "Gosh Bea, I feel like I haven't seen you in... how long has it been?"

"Almost a year," I reply, "not since I left for London and you for Princeton." I gesture to the man with an arm protectively around my waist, "This is Michael, by the way."

"Nice to meet you," Michael smiles and shakes his hand.

He raises his eyebrows, "Did you meet in London?"

I purse my lips, "No, at a club actually."

"It was quite romantic," Michael adds.

"So how have you been?" I ask, changing the subject, "We haven't spoken much."

He shrugs, "Not much has changed, I've just had school. How about you, what have you been up to? Are you going to college this fall?"

"Oh, I haven't done much other than socialize and play piano, and I don't really have plans to do anything other than that. I'll be fine without college anyway, if I'm not married by the end of next year then my parents will arrange something for me. I'm certain I'll be taken care of," Michael's grip on my waist tightens by the second.

"Of course you'll be taken care of Bea," he beams, "a girl as smart and beautiful and talented as you probably has a line of guys going around the block," I can sense the slightest hint of bitterness creeping into his voice, "So what do you do Michael?"