New Year's Kiss

by Lee Matthews

  He sounded like my sister. Was that what everyone here was thinking? Just get it over with? I wondered if anyone in this room thought this sort of public humiliation was actually fun.

  “Yeah, and I might be dead.”

  “Unlikely,” Christopher shot back.

  “Going…going…”

  “Think of the list, Type A!” Christopher urged.

  “I’m here!”

  I stood up, and my knees almost collapsed underneath me. Also, my voice cracked spectacularly on the word here, which did not bode well. But then the crowd turned to look at me and people started to cheer and, well, there was no going back. I made my way toward the stage, tripping once and catching myself on the back of some poor girl’s chair, before finally making it to the stairs. I’d thought I was doing pretty well in my new heels, but I had to seriously concentrate just to get up the three steps in one piece. Then, the DJ was handing me the microphone, the music was starting, and there were the words, lighting up on the TV in front of me.

  I looked out at the audience, trying to spot Christopher, but the brightest light ever constructed by man shone directly in my face, basically blinding me to everyone and everything beyond the first row of tables. I was on my own.

  And so, I started to sing.

  My voice was…not good. It was quiet. And breathy. And not in the least bit confident. I was tanking. I could feel it. The group of girlfriends at the first table was actually squirming in discomfort. This was a disaster. But I was doing it. And like Christopher had said, in five minutes it would be over.

  I looked at the TV, as if I didn’t have this song memorized backwards and forwards, and there I saw it. The chorus. Okay. If I was ever going to save this, the time was now. I closed my eyes and just belted out the chorus. I pretended I was in my shower back home and just sang. As loudly as I could without passing out. And then, the most miraculous thing happened.

  Somebody cheered.

  Yeah. I’m not kidding. Somebody, not Christopher, actually cheered. And then people began clapping to the beat. And that’s when something dawned on me. It wasn’t just me singing up there alone. We were all in this together. I was just the person who happened to be on the stage at that moment. But a bunch of those people out there had sung before me. And some of them would sing after me. Karaoke wasn’t a single-person event. This was a group thing. A team thing. And I wasn’t about to let my team down.

  I kept singing. And I opened my eyes. I’m pretty sure I even smiled.

  “Come on, everyone, join in!” I shouted before the chorus began again. “You know the words.”

  And the crowd started to sing with me. And I really wasn’t the center of attention anymore. I waved the audience on, encouraging them, and noticed that the guy from the coffee shop—Damon—was sitting at one of the front tables near the door, and he was one of the people clapping and singing enthusiastically along. When our eyes met, he gave me a quick thumbs-up, and a little thrill went through me.

  A cute boy was enjoying my song. The song that was almost over. Just one more time through the chorus and this whole nightmare—was it a nightmare?—would be over.

  When I finally hit the last note, I was so relieved and giddy, I started laughing and threw one hand in the air. Everyone cheered. Well, I don’t know if it was everyone—I still couldn’t see eighty percent of the room—but it felt like everyone. My first time singing karaoke was a success.

  But even more importantly? I’d just crossed two more items off my list. I couldn’t wait to find Christopher again and celebrate.

  * * *

  • • •

  Walking back through the crowd, I felt one hundred percent the opposite of how I’d felt going up to the stage. I weighed zero pounds. My chest was all puffed up and full of helium. There was nothing I couldn’t do. People slapped me on my back and yelled encouraging things like “nice job!” and “get it, girl!” and “that didn’t suck!” I was smiling so hard my cheeks hurt.

  “That was amazing!” Christopher shouted.

  He pushed himself up from his chair, bracing both hands on the table, and reached in to hug me. I managed to somehow balance his weight without tottering on my high heels and wrapped my arms fully around him. It was, possibly, the most perfect moment of my life. If doing stuff I’d never done before always felt like this, I was going to be doing new things much more often.

  “You did it!” he said, pulling back, but keeping one hand on my lower back. His cast leg was crooked beneath him, making him look like a cute flamingo. I could feel the warmth of his palm through my T-shirt. “How does it feel?”

  “Oh my God, so good!” I cried, pressing my fingertips to my cheeks. “I can’t stop smiling.”

  “Congratulations. That was so great. Everyone was really into it. And getting them to sing along with you was genius.”

  “Thank you. I’m just glad I didn’t fall off the stage.” I gestured at my shoes and laughed.

  “Unreal,” Christopher said, and lowered himself back into his chair. “You just checked off two more things from your list. Three in one day. We’re on a roll.”

  I liked this we thing. It was really kind of amazing how all-in Christopher was on this whole experiment.

  “Yeah, we totally are.”

  I sat down next to him again and reached for my root beer just as the DJ announced that they were going to be taking a break and he’d be back in ten minutes. The volume of the conversation around us swelled as people pored over the list of songs and decided what to sing next. I sensed someone standing next to my chair and noticed Christopher’s face go stiff. I looked up. It was Damon. His dark hair was pushed back from his face, and he wore a plaid cowboy-style shirt with the little snaps down the front that most people couldn’t have pulled off, but it looked good on him.

  “Hey…Tess, right?” he said. “I just wanted to tell you, you did great.” He pointed a thumb over his shoulder at the stage, then shoved both hands into the front pockets of his jeans. “I’m Damon. From the coffee shop? Remember? I’m Tarek’s cousin. I think he’s been hanging out with your sister, Lauren, right?”

  “Yes! Hi! I didn’t know you and Tarek were related.” I think I was still a little high on adrenaline, because I couldn’t exactly think straight. But Damon did look a little bit like Tarek—only Damon hadn’t gotten those bright blue eyes his cousin had been blessed with. His were light brown. And he was thinner and wirier than Tarek, who had more of a football player’s build. “It’s nice to see you again.”

  Damon nodded, and his gaze flicked past me toward Christopher. “Hey.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry, this is Christopher.”

  “S’up man?” Damon said, glancing down at Christopher’s cast. “Bad luck.”

  “Something like that,” Christopher said.

  The air was so cold between them, I could have been back outside under the stars at Campfire Bingo. But without the fire.

  “Anyway.” Damon returned his attention to me. “If you stop by the café in the morning, I’ll get you a coffee on me. That performance deserves a reward.”

  “Um, thanks,” I said, wanting to kill the awkward. “Maybe I will. And thanks for coming over. I appreciate it. I was really nervous.”

  “Really? I couldn’t tell,” he said. “Like, not at all.”

  I blushed and looked down. I couldn’t help it. I wasn’t used to all this attention.

  “Anyway, I’ll let you get back to…ya know. See you soon,” Damon said.

  “You too,” I replied. He lifted a hand and walked away, heading back to rejoin his friends.

  I could feel Christopher staring at me, so I grabbed my root beer and took a long sip. I wasn’t sure why, but I couldn’t seem to make myself look him in the eye.

  “I just talked to a stranger,” I said, hazarding a quick glance. “Does that count as numb
er three?”

  “Not a chance,” he replied. “That guy came over here to talk to you. Totally does not count.”

  “Oh,” I said, a little thrown by his businesslike tone. “Good point.”

  Christopher checked his phone and got up. “My parents are looking for me,” he said, tossing some money on the table and shoving his phone into his back pocket. “I gotta go.”

  “Wait. Really? Just like that?” I said.

  “Yeah. Sorry. I’ll see you,” he said. He gathered up his crutches and started to move away from the table, but paused after a few steps and turned back. “You really did do great up there, Tess.”

  “Thanks,” I said, totally unsure of how to feel. Had something gone wrong here? Had I done something? Was I stupid to think that I might get a second chance at that kiss?

  “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said.

  And then he was gone.

  TESS’S NEW YEAR’S BUCKET LIST

  Make a paper airplane that actually flies (20 seconds at least) ✓

  Sing in public ✓

  Strike up a conversation with a stranger

  Wear high heels outside the house ✓

  Make out with a guy whose last name I don’t know

  TP someone’s house

  Get Adam Michel’s autograph

  Get a short, stylish haircut

  Ski a black diamond slope

  Eat sushi

  The next morning I woke up feeling like I could basically conquer the world. It was amazing how performing in front of a crowd had completely shifted my attitude about everything. I smiled at myself in the mirror while brushing my teeth. I blew my hair until it was totally dry and left it down instead of tying it into my usual ponytail. And when my sister grumbled at me about my perkiness, I just ignored her and walked out of the room—although I may have slammed the door just a little bit harder than necessary.

  Downstairs at breakfast, instead of getting my usual—pancakes and bacon—I decided to join the line at the omelet station. I had always liked cheese in my scrambled eggs. Why not get them in omelet form? And maybe I’d have them throw some tomatoes in there, too. Go crazy!

  The only thing putting any sort of negative tinge on my good mood was the way Christopher had up and left so abruptly the night before. But maybe it was nothing. He’d broken his leg just a few days ago, and I’d dragged him around town all morning and out of bed in the afternoon. Maybe he was just exhausted. That was probably all it was.

  I was waiting for a couple of minutes on line for food when the girl from the international buffet on my first night here stepped up behind me—the one who hadn’t seemed to be sitting with anyone she knew. She was wearing an outfit I could never pull off—brightly striped tights, a plaid shirt, and a fuzzy white sweater. I would have looked like a clown in that combo, but she looked stylish and cool. She had black-brown curly hair cut short around her ears, and light brown skin that glowed as if she was lit from the inside. Once again, she was engrossed in a book, but I couldn’t tell what it was because of the angle at which she held it—flat in front of her, her head bowed so she could read.

  Was she still into The Seven Siren Stars, or was she on to the sequel, The Eighth Earth? And if it was The Eighth Earth, had she gotten to the part where Simon had to cut off Aramaya’s left hand to save them all from the three-headed gorgon and an eternity of endless night? She bit her lip and turned the page. The line inched forward. My heart was starting to pound. I could just ask her. I should just ask her. She was clearly a book nerd, like me. What was the worst that could happen?

  “Whatcha reading?” I blurted out.

  The girl looked up. Was it just me, or had I sounded like a kindergartener just then? Ugh, she probably thought I was a freak.

  For half a second she eyed me a bit warily, and I thought she was going to bolt or tell me off or just ignore me. But then, she lifted the book so I could see the cover. It was The Eighth Earth, but it had a weird cover I’d never seen before. “I’ve just started it,” she said. “But it’s so good.”

  She had an English accent. There was literally nothing I loved more on this planet than an English accent. I endured bad rom-coms with my mom sometimes just so I could hear Hugh Grant talk.

  “Oh my God, I’m so jealous,” I told her. “I would kill to get to read that again for the first time.”

  “Really?” she said, brightening slightly. Her shoulders also relaxed, as if she’d just decided that I was maybe not a psychopath. “I loved the last one and I feel like this one has to be a disappointment after that.”

  I shook my head. “Nope. No way. This one is soooo much better.”

  “All right, all right! Don’t get my hopes up too high!” she said with a laugh. Her curls shuddered when she laughed, making me wish my hair wasn’t so dang straight and boring. But then, I was going to chop it off, right? Maybe within a couple of days I’d also have enviable hair. A girl could dream. And be simultaneously terrified of said dream.

  “You’re right. Sorry,” I said. “I’ll shut up now.”

  “Next!”

  It was my turn at the front of the line. I ordered an omelet with cheddar and roasted tomatoes. The girl put a bookmark in to hold her page and hugged the book to her chest.

  “It’s just, I’ve never been a big reader,” she told me, blushing. “Until recently, I’d only really read fashion mags and blogs or music columns. But someone recommended this series to me, and I had no idea. It’s so engrossing! I can’t ever put it down.”

  “Welcome to the life of a habitual reader,” I told her.

  “I’m Carina,” she said. “I’ve been dragged here against my will for my dad’s latest work trip.”

  “Tess,” I replied. “Sent here against my will to spend time with my grandmother.”

  No need to bring up the divorce. I didn’t have to tell my sad history to every single person I met on this trip. Thinking this made me think of Christopher, and I glanced up and down the buffet again. No sign of him. No sign of his parents.

  “My sympathies,” she said jokingly.

  “Mine, too. For you, I mean.”

  The chef behind the counter took her order—egg-white omelet with spinach and feta—and then we stood aside to wait for our food.

  “So, are you going skiing today?” Carina asked. “My dad’s been so busy, we haven’t gone out on the slopes yet, and I hate to go alone.”

  “I wasn’t planning on it,” I told her. “My grandmother wants us to go to some high tea or something with her.”

  “Us?” she asked.

  “Oh, me and my sister,” I said just as Lauren herself walked through the double doors with Tarek and…Damon? What were they all doing together? And how had Lauren gotten up and showered and made herself look that good that fast? It would always be a mystery to me. The three of them glanced around, and when Lauren saw me, she pointed me out. To Damon. He grinned and started weaving around other diners toward me and Carina.

  “Oh, God,” I said.

  “What?” Carina looked around, baffled.

  “Guy. There. Coming. Here.”

  “Okay, you just went totally Cro-Magnon on me,” she said, her brows knitting.

  “Hey, Tess!” Damon greeted me, all dimples and confidence. I noticed he wasn’t wearing his Best Bean polo shirt or his name tag. He was, instead, wearing a very nice and form-fitting blue ski sweater and had his long hair down around his shoulders, which kind of made him look like a model in an outdoorsy catalog. The whole effect was making me sweat just the tiniest bit. Clearly he was off duty right now.

  “Hilo,” I said. “I mean, hello. Hi. What’s up? I thought you were working.”

  “They doubled up shifts by mistake, so I got the morning off.” Damon looked at Carina.
“Hey. I’m Damon. Are you a friend of Tess’s?”

  “We just met, but I like to think we’ve formed a deep and impenetrable bond,” Carina said. Damon just looked confused. “Yes. We’re friends,” she added slowly. “I’m Carina.”

  “Nice to meet you.” He turned his attention back to me, hands in the pockets of his black sweatpants. “So me and Tarek and Lauren were gonna go hit the slopes. You wanna come?”

  I actually flinched, I was so taken aback. “Um…we can’t go skiing,” I told him, just as the chef handed over my plate. I took it from him, the steam still rising from the eggs. “My grandmother has plans for us all day. Me and my sister, I mean. Not, you know….you. Or Tarek. Or anyone. Else.” Why couldn’t I form a normal sentence?

  “Screw the plans.”

  I jumped. Lauren had somehow snuck up behind me and was now eating a piece of sausage wrapped in a pancake like it was a taco.

  “I want to go skiing,” she added, her mouth full. Tarek sidled up behind her, gnawing on a bagel. Damon and Tarek standing next to each other was almost too much hotness to handle this early in the morning.

  “I…”

  I glanced at Carina, who had also just gotten her food. She looked at me hopefully. She wanted to go skiing, too, and it seemed like she was hoping to get roped into this new group plan. I thought of Christopher, wishing he could join us, too, but clearly that wasn’t in the cards. Where was he, though? Still in bed? It wasn’t like him to miss breakfast.

  I knew what he’d tell me if he was here, though—this was my opportunity to cross another item off my list—ski a black diamond run. And I could do it with my sister, so if I died, there’d be someone there to deal with my remains.

  “Sure, I guess,” I said, and Tarek whooped. “Can Carina come, too?”

  “You’re Carina?” Lauren said, looking her up and down.

  “And you’re the sister?” Carina replied, looking Lauren up and down right back.