One of the officers, who is inexplicably wearing sunglasses at night, lifts one corner of his mustachioed mouth in amusement.
“Well, riddle me this: If you’re Jake Taylor’s girlfriend, then why aren’t you at the showwithhim?”
“Because”—Ali steps forward to stand in front of us—“they broke up! Which was a huge mistake,obviously,completely perpetuated by unfair pressures of celebrity and social media. I mean, honestly, how do you not recognize her? Do you not follow E! News?!”
Sunglasses lowers his shades to look at me. “Wait a second. Are you the girl from that photo at the ice cream shop?”
His partner claps his hands together and then points at me. “Yes! I told my wife, they ain’t having no fight! That dude is just sneezing!”
“Exactly!” Ali agrees. “See, you understand. The media just twists everything, you know?”
Sunglasses nods his head. “Okay, lady, I’ll let you through, but I can’t let all of you in. Just three.”
Mia nods. “This is where I leave you guys.” She turns to Chloe, then grabs her by the waist, dipping her backward and smashing their lips together. When Chloe rights herself a minute later, her face is flushed.
“Right, then. Shall we?”
Nodding, I turn back to Ali. “You ready?”
Ali nods. Chloe straightens her shoulders and lifts her chin resolutely.
“Let’s do this.” For a moment, I stand there, staring at my two best friends in the world. There’s a new trio of Musketeers now, and there’s not a chance I’ll ever let them go.
The officers pull the barricade aside and we slip through, weaving our way through the crowd. The music is growing louder, the streets filled with the sound of whistles and the flash of multicolored lights. A huge billboard advertising JLo Beauty blinks above us. Up ahead, I can hear the bass music of the current musical act pumping through the speakers.
Then, I spot the ball, its illuminated star pattern twinkling against the night sky. I stop in my tracks and stand there for a moment, staring up at it. As a kid growing up in New York City, all I ever wanted was to see the New Year’s Eve ball. Somehow, it seems fitting that it’s Jake who finally made this dream a reality.
Chloe’s hand slips through the crook of my elbow, shaking me from my daydream.
“Come on, we need to move,” she says urgently. She hooks her other arm through Ali’s, then pulls us through the crowd, shoving past the North Face–clad bodies, until somehow, we make our way to the very front of the barricade.
We’re standing to the right of the stage. Ryan is in the center, surrounded by the evening’s performers. My heart catches in my throat as I spot Jake. He’s staring listlessly into the crowd, looking more morose than ever. I scream his name, but it gets drowned out by the surrounding noise.
“We’ve got about five minutes left until the new year!” Ryan cries gleefully into his handheld mike. “Let’s head down to Trixie. Trixie, what’s going on with you?”
On the huge screen behind Ryan’s head, I see Trixie standing in the crowd, surrounded by a group of vaguely familiar-looking men.
“I’ve got the Backstreet Boys here with me!” Trixie squeals, gesturing excitedly toward the band as if she has any idea who they are. She turns to Brian, who looks slightly startled when she shovesthe microphone in his face. “Do you want to give anyone a special shout-out before the ball drops?” Behind him, a group of teenage girls are jumping up and down, holding handwritten signs that say, “We love you, Jake Taylor!”
“That’s it!” Ali hisses. “We need to get behind Trixie so we’re on camera. It’s the only way Jake’s going to be able to see you.” Together, we shift through the crowd again, shoving up against the teens with the signs.
“Hey, watch it! This is our spot!” one of them huffs as Chloe tries to elbow her way past them.
Chloe whips out her clutch and opens her wallet.
“How about this? I’ll give you a hundred for your spots,” she says, holding up a few crisp twenties.
One of the girls cackles. “A hundred dollars? My friends are making three times that much to babysit tonight! I don’t think so.”
I step forward, pulling out my phone. “I used to date Jake Taylor,” I say. “And if you give us your spots, I will give you his cell phone number.” The shortest of the girls raises her eyebrows skeptically. Between her dark curls and sassy attitude, it’s like going head-to-head with a miniature Ali.
“Oh yeah?” she scoffs. “Prove it.”
I click open my phone and pull up a photo of me and Jake at the karaoke bar in Atlanta. All four of their mouths drop open.
Little Ali nods eagerly. “Uh,deal,” she says. She holds out her phone and I punch in a number before handing it back to her. The girls giggle as they scurry off into the crowd.
“Wait a second,” Chloe says, her face a mask of confusion. “I thought you deleted Jake’s number?”
