The Quest for Fireworks

Cherry Wine

    Jordan does text me fifteen minutes after he leaves. From there, we never stop texting. Over the phone, it's a lot easier to ask questions and give answers. I learn a lot about him but I leave out a lot about myself. It's not that I don't trust him, I'm just scared that if I let him know all of me, he'll run away.
    What I've learned about Jordan is just more of what I already thought of him. Caring, loving, genuine. He feels deeply about a lot of things including everyone in his life. If I tell him all of my problems, he'll take them on and I don't want that for him.
    In the past, I've been told I can be a lot to handle. I overreact, I'm always anxious and I go through depressive episodes that can be brought on by the tiniest things. Jordan is the kind of person that will be drained trying to take care of every minor inconvenience in my life.
    I tell him the mundane things, my interests, my hobbies but when it moves to things like family or my past, I shut down or change the subject. I can't get myself to knock down the wall I've built up.
    Every morning, he texts me "good morning" and every night we say "good night". It's not constant throughout the day, we're both working, but it is steady. We don't hang out though. Since I asked him both of the previous times, I'll let him decide the next time.
    Friday he texts me and says, "Dakota wants to hang out tonight."
    I almost forgot she existed. "Oh, cool. Have fun," I reply. I never asked him if he talked to her about outing him but I guess things are fine between them.
    "No, with me and you," he texts back. "And a couple of her other friends, I guess. At a beer garden on Race Street."
    "Oh, ok. Sounds fun," I say back.
    "Fun?" He asks with a tongue-out emoji. The word fun has become a running joke between us.
    I laugh to myself and type back, "Only because you'll be there."
    "I'll pick you up at 7:00," he says.
    At 6:57, Jordan texts me again to say he's out front. I slide into a pair of old, faded Vans which match perfectly with my faded T-shirt and light wash jeans. I grab my bag and nervously make my way to his car.
    "Hi," I say, opening the car door.
    "Hello," he says. The sound of his voice makes my fingers tingle and my smile grow wider. Going a few days without hearing it, I didn't realize how much I missed it.
    I get in and he starts driving. The music playing in his car is slightly different from what played in mine. The song sounds familiar but I'm not sure what it is.
    "Ready to have some fun?" He asks, a playful smile on his face.
    "Loads," I say.
    "Dakota told me about what happened," he says quieter.
    Honestly, it takes me a minute to realize what he's talking about. Then I remember the night of my birthday and I'm a little surprised and pissed. I'm sure she explained it completely differently than what actually happened.
    "I didn't have real feelings for her," I say first, because I'm sure Dakota's ego led with that. "I thought I might but she's not the kind of person you're supposed to get feelings for. She's the person you sleep with and then completely regret it the next day and wish it never happened."
    Jordan laughs once. "Tell me about it," he says.
    "Oh, right. You guys have a past too," I say, remembering Dakota telling me how good Jordan is in bed.
    "About the same as yours," he says. "I thought we could be something for a split second but after sleeping together once it just didn't feel right. She said she agreed and we were able to save our friendship but she still brings it up sometimes when she's drunk."
    "What do you mean?" I ask.
    Jordan sighs. "She'll try to come on to me or ask why it didn't work out. It's awkward but when she's sober again she acts like nothing happened."
    "And I thought I was a lot to handle," I say, mainly to myself but it comes out of my mouth anyway.
    Jordan just laughs, probably confused by my statement. It just reminds me of what a good person he is. He stays friends with someone even though it's awkward and complicated because he's willing to look past all that. I know that if he cares for me and I inevitably fuck up, he'll forgive me even if I don't deserve it.
    The next song starts playing and I recognize it immediately. "I love this song," I say, because I do but also because we need to change the subject.
    "I remember you were wearing a Paramore shirt the first time we met," he says, sheepishly, "so I added a few of their songs to this playlist for you."
    Out of nowhere, I feel like crying. Not only did he pay enough attention to remember what band was on my shirt, he added songs to a playlist that he at least hoped I'd hear.
    I don't know what to say so I just look at him and smile. He smiles back and reaches over to hold my hand in my lap. I look down at our hands and have to blink rapidly to keep the tears from coming out. I feel pieces of my wall start to chip away.