More Than Friends

Chapter 3: Brady

The next morning, Brady woke up to the sun streaming brightly through the windows in Charlotte's living room. He rolled over to face the back of the couch, but it was too late; the spell of sleep had been broken and he couldn’t get it back. Plus, the sun was making him uncomfortably warm, his entire body felt sticky and hot. He checked his watch and when he noticed that it wasn’t quite 9:00, he decided he’d just walk home and grab a coffee on the way. It was Sunday, the day was wide open.

He glanced at Charlotte’s closed bedroom door and thought for a long, desperate moment about opening it, and tiptoeing inside to curl himself around her while she slept. In her bathroom, he relieved himself and splashed water on his face, raking his wet hands through his hair.

“Why do you keep doing this?” he whispered to his reflection, his voice gruff with sleep and a slight hangover. He stared back at himself and answered silently, because you’re pathetically in love with your best friend and keep hoping that she’ll love you back.

He knew that coming over to Charlotte’s house, drinking and staying over, thinking that one day she’d actually change her mind and go for someone like him was nothing but a pipe dream, a torch he carried for her that he should have put out years ago. But he couldn’t help his feelings, they were just there pulsing desperately inside his heart whether he wanted them or not. As much a part of him as his face, his arms, his feet—being in love with Charlotte was a painful reality that he had grown accustomed to and had no idea how to shake.

But he had grown complacent over the past few years, as they had spent so much time together in the same city, the same office, and, often, even in the same apartment. He had let himself get carried away with the hope that one day she’d just wake up and change her mind, that she’d suddenly realize that she was in love with her best friend, and it would finally be his happily-ever-after. Three years after college, however, was long enough. He knew it was time to truly move on, to force his hopeful heart to follow his logical brain.

This is the last time I’m staying over, he told himself sternly. His reflection, if it could have responded independently, would have laughed in his face. You say that every time, it would have scoffed. Brady grabbed a towel and dried his face harder than was necessary. He felt like an addict waking up after a bender, promising to never get high again. Charlotte was his drug, and he couldn’t give her up.

He grabbed his phone, put on his shoes, and left. It was a beautiful spring morning in their little neighborhood just outside of Cincinnati, the kind of day that looks like a postcard and he was happy to be walking home. Fluffy, white clouds against a light blue sky, bright green sprouting everywhere, and flowers bursting in vibrant colors. He tried to focus on the present moment, walking down the street on a gorgeous day, his gratitude at just being alive in the world. He tried valiantly not to think about how putting an end to his feelings for Charlotte was like chopping off a limb.

He walked into Cool Beans, the coffee shop that was almost exactly the midpoint between their apartments and the inspiration for the storyline he had pitched her the night before. He stood in line and automatically took out his phone and opened i********:, scrolling mindlessly through the images. The door opened behind him, and he casually glanced back as a strikingly beautiful woman walked through and got in line behind him. She tossed her long, dark hair off her shoulder and looked back at him with doe-like eyes that were the color of amber and framed by long, black lashes. They were like pools of deep gold, and he was momentarily transfixed. Her full lips slid into a broad smile, and she made a little half-wave.

He smiled back and muttered something that was meant to sound like, “hey” but sounded more like a grunt.

God, you’re an i***t, he said to himself as he turned back around.

He got up to the counter and gave his order and his name. When he slid to the other side of the shop, the woman sidled up next to him and said, “Aren’t you Madison’s friend?”

“Sorry, what?” he said, so taken aback that she’d said something to him that he couldn’t make sense of her words.

“You’re Brady, right… you work with Madison?” she said, her brows furrowing into a worried expression. “Unless I totally have the wrong guy and now, I just look like I’m trying to pick up a cute stranger in the coffee shop.”

He felt heat crawl up his neck as he digested the words pick up and cute.

“Madison Johnson? Yeah, we work together,” Brady said, trying to figure out if he had met this woman before and if he had, how he could possibly have forgotten her.

“Oh, thank God,” she laughed. “I’m Gigi, we met at Madison’s Christmas party… I think?” She trailed off at the end, making it sound more like a question. But then she continued, “You came there with your girlfriend, maybe? She’s really beautiful? Long blonde, curly hair?”

Brady got the sense that she was a little nervous, which seemed preposterous to him that someone that looked like her could ever be nervous around… well, anyone. But especially him.

“Oh right!” he said, remembering the party and pretending to remember her. “You’re talking about Charlotte—but she’s not my girlfriend. Just friends. Friends from college. So, we’re good friends—best friends, I guess. But just friends.” He realized that he was rambling and sounding like a complete i***t. He forced himself to stop before he said something truly stupid and suddenly confessed to this beautiful stranger that he was actually in love with this just-friend-from-college.

“Oh, okay, gotcha,” she said, a little uncomfortably. Brady chastised himself for making the moment awkward. Then she continued, “Actually, I already knew that.”

“Already knew what?” Brady asked.

“Already knew that you and Charlotte were just friends?” she said, squinching up her face in a way that Brady thought was adorable. “I asked Madison about you the night of her party and she told me.”

“You did?” he said, unable to hide his delight.

“I did,” she said, covering her face with her hands, but she wasn’t able to hide the blush that had bloomed across her cheeks.

There was an awkward silence for a moment before the barista called Brady’s name and then, directly after, Gigi’s name. He grabbed both of their coffees and turned around, handing Gigi’s to her. There was a moment when she took ahold of her cup, and he hadn’t yet let go when their hands touched. Brady’s stomach squeezed and his heart raced as they looked at each other and smiled before he let go.

He thought of the story he told Charlotte the night before, how she had laughed it off and said it was too cute, insinuating that it wasn’t realistic. And yet here he was, meeting a beautiful woman at a coffee shop, right here in real life. He felt like it was some kind of poetic justice and as he looked at Gigi, her eager smile, her sparkling eyes, he felt the grip that Charlotte had around his heart loosen a little. Maybe there was a way out from under his unrelenting feelings for Charlotte; perhaps the universe was offering him a way out now. He decided to grab hold and see where it took him.

“So, wanna grab coffee sometime?” Brady asked, smiling broadly, and indicating their surroundings with arms stretched wide. “As in, right now?”

Gigi laughed easily and said, “I’d love to.”

They walked outside and chose a table with an umbrella and sat down.

“So, what do you do, Gigi?” Brady asked, taking a sip of coffee.

“I’m a teacher,” she said with a smile. “First grade.”

“Oh, wow,” Brady said, smiling. “That’s impressive. My mom’s a teacher, she’s been teaching eighth grade for like… ever.”

“Now, that’s impressive,” Gigi said. “I could never teach middle school. I like them when they still love you completely and think that you’re the most amazing human being next to their parents and Santa Claus.”

“It doesn’t matter what grade you teach, you’re all incredible,” Brady said.

“Thank you,” she said demurely.

“And I’m assuming that, since you work with Maddie, that you’re in publishing?” she asked. “An editor, right?”

“Assistant editor, but yeah,” Brady answered.

“That sounds like such a cool job,” she said. “I love books and reading—it would be so fun to do that all day long.”

“If only that’s all I did all day long,” he said. “There’s a lot more to it than reading books all day, but it is a good job.”

They talked easily for the rest of the morning, sharing a deep love for their families. He told her about his older brother and sister and his nieces and nephew. About how they both lived within a mile of where they had all grown up and how much he loved living nearby so he could stay close with them. She told him about growing up in a suburb of Chicago, being the oldest of five girls, and that her youngest sister was only thirteen. She talked about how much she missed them and how she tried to get back as often as she could. The time they shared passed by quickly and the hours felt like a few minutes.

Later, Brady would think again about how ironic it was that Charlotte had, just the night before, chastised him for his idea of a meet-cute in a coffee shop. Told him it was too cheesy. And yet here he was, meeting someone-- someone who he thought might be pretty special-- right there at a coffee shop. He would think that the beginning of whatever this was with Gigi was just the kind of beginning he'd always hoped for: something sweet and real and simple.

And he would think about how romance and love, whether in a book or real life, didn’t have to involve any of Charlotte's overtly provocative criteria in order to be extraordinary. But that would all occur to him later. As he sat with Gigi at a table outside under a bright yellow umbrella, for the first time in a long time, Charlotte was the last thing on his mind.