Maybe friendship was better.
“So, if you want to be friends who have sex,” Sam said. “I’m here for that.”
Confusion churned my stomach. “I don’t know what I want. I don’t trust myself to make the right decisions.” I swished another glass under the tap and handed it to him to dry.
His fingers brushed mine as he took it, sparking a tingle up my arm. “You don’t have to decide. You could just let it happen.”
I raised my chin. “If it happens.”
“If you want it to happen.”
I took a deep breath. Released it. “What are you doing New Year’s Eve?”
Seventeen
Sam had to work on New Year’s Eve.
“Can’t ask anyone else to do it,” he’d explained with a note of regret.
Which... okay. New Year’s had never been my favorite holiday, anyway. All that pressure to have an amazing night, and then what? Standing around at a party in an uncomfortable bra and impractical shoes, drinking Cook’s champagne until midnight, when some random drunk would catch me by the restroom and stick his tongue in my mouth.
Covid, and Gray, had spared me that, at least. Last New Year’s Eve he had gone off to a “faculty only” dinner party while I stayed home alone with a book. Until his inevitable twoa.m.text (Am I bothering you?) followed by his equally inevitable appearance at my apartment twenty minutes later. “God, what a boring evening,” he’d murmured, nuzzling closer in my bed. “You don’t know how much I envy you, getting to stay home.”
I pretended to believe him.
So. Sam was working. Reeti was in London. Toni was out with Fiadh and her friends. (Fiadh had invited me along, but apleading look from Toni persuaded me not to play chaperone.) And I was home with a book. Again. No bra, no shoes, no pressure.
Honestly, it was fine.
Maybe I didn’t have anyone to kiss, but I had Anne Lamott for company. Our class was readingBird by Bird. “If there is one door in the castle you have been told not to go through, you must. Otherwise, you’ll just be rearranging furniture in rooms you’ve already been in.”
I reread the passage, feeling it settle into my brain. This was what I’d originally loved about school, even more than the stability of the routine or the chance to be good at something. I felt the words take up residence in my head, pushing out walls to make room.
And I thought about my story, about my protagonist, Rose, stranded in the magic kingdom, and I wondered what was behind the doors of her castle and if she’d ever find her way home.
Just before midnight, my phone pinged.Reeti.
I smiled. She’d sent a video from her parents’ house, a party, with high-energy music and dancing in the background, and Reeti, glowing and gorgeous in a chrysanthemum sari with twists of gold embroidery. I tapped the screen to take a closer look at the young man next to her. Herrishta? Slim, with liquid dark eyes and a neatly trimmed beard.
His name’s Vir, she’d told me over Christmas without offering any supporting details. I’d worried she didn’t like him. I hoped she wasn’t being pressured into anything.
Happy New Year!I texted.Is that him?
My screen lit. A smiling, blushing emoji.Not bad, right?
He’s cute!I typed, and waited for a reply.
But there were no more dots. No answer. Which was... good, right? It meant she was having a good time.
I turned on the television, picking up the BBC countdown to midnight. Big Ben chimed. Fireworks exploded over the Thamesas London rang in the New Year in the aftermath of the pandemic.
“Happy New Year,” I whispered.
I didn’t want to be there in that crowd. But maybe, after all, I wished Sam were free tonight.
My phone chirped. Reeti, again.Happy New Year, didi!
And a selfie from Toni, accompanied by a burst of emojis, with her arms around Fiadh and some other girl, all of them grinning under sparkly party hats.
