Chapter 48
December
She’s probably not going to answer. She’s probably not going to answer. She’s—
“Hello?”
“Hi. Hey.” I tilt my head back, tempted to bang my head against the side of Lucky’s, but worried it’s quiet enough out here that she’ll be able to hear. “You busy?”
It’s as silent on her end as it is on mine.
“Nope,” she answers. “You?”
“Yeah. I’m talking to you.”
She laughs, and my lips curve up in response to the sound. “Where are you?”
“Outside Lucky’s. You?”
“Zurich. In Switzerland.”
“I might not have a passport, Wren, but I know where Zurich is.”
“You don’t have a passport?”
“No. I’ve never been outside the US.”
“Now I know what to get you for Christmas next year.”
I clear my throat. “I still can’t believe what you got me this year.”
“It wasn’t a big deal,” she tells me. “My grandfather’s sports agency represents him. It was easy to get.”
“It was a big deal to me. How’d you know he was my favorite player?”
“You have a Caleb Winters poster on the back of your bedroom door.”
“Oh. Right.” I exhale, watching the white cloud of my breath linger in the air for a few moments. It’s fucking freezing out here. “I sent your gift to New York. I thought you’d be back there.”
“You got me a gift?” She sounds startled. Stunned really.
“You got me a gift,” I say defensively. “And I didn’t get it, so much as, uh, write it. I didn’t remember everything I’d put in the letters, but I put as much in them as I could.”
“So, it’s not just, Fuck you?”
I laugh. “I paraphrased. You don’t have to read them or reply, but you said you wanted to know, so …”
The door to Lucky’s opens.
Cammie steps outside, an exasperated expression on her face as she marches over, shivering, and says, “Hi, Wren,” loudly into the phone speaker. To me, she adds, “Five-minute warning. Everyone’s looking for you,” before hustling back inside the warm bar.
“That was Cammie,” I tell Wren, not wanting her to think some random girl is with me. Not sure how Cammie knew it was Wren on the phone. It’s not like I announced what I was doing when I headed out here.
“I figured.”
“I should go. Wade has this grand plan of us all taking shots at midnight. He badgered everyone into agreeing, and it’s almost twelve.”
“Don’t drink too much,” she cautions.
“I’m standing, like, ten feet from where you threw up,” I tell her. “If I’m tempted, I’ll just think about that.”
Wren groans. “Thank you for that reminder of a moment I’d like to never ever think about again.”
I grin. “I’m totally sober right now, and Gus drove tonight. I’ll be fine. Happy almost New—” Something else occurs to me. Something that should have occurred to me as soon as she said where she was. “Wait, what time is it there?”
“Almost six.”
“Fuck. I’m so sorry. I didn’t think—”
“It’s fine. Answering a phone is optional, you know.”
“So, I didn’t wake you up?”
“No. I hadn’t gone to sleep yet.”
“Must have been some party.”
It sounds like she yawns before replying, “It was. I was getting ready for bed when you called. I’d just adjusted to the time change after being in California for Christmas, and this will mess my sleep schedule up all over again.”
“Sounds rough.”
Silence.
“Sorry,” I grumble. “I’m just—sorry. You should get some sleep.”
More silence.
“I’m glad you called,” she finally says.
“Are you?”
“Yes. I almost called you before midnight here, but I …” She exhales.
“But you didn’t.” I don’t say it harshly, but I do say it, and I hear her pull in a quick breath in response.
“I think I have New Year’s Eve PTSD with us. It’s the one night a year that’s a beginning and an ending. And that’s sort of how we’ve always felt. I’m never sure if it’s starting … or about to be over.”
“Like a roller coaster?”
“Yeah, sort of. I don’t know any roller coasters that last four and a half years though.”
“That’s how long it’s been, huh?”
“Makes us sound old.”
I smile. “Do you want to get off the roller coaster?”
“Stop talking, you mean?” Then, “Uh … oh. Hang on one sec.”
There’s a hum of muffled voices, but I can’t make out what’s being said. It sounds like she covered the speaker.
Wren returns a minute later, speaking at a normal volume. “Sorry. Tanner forgot to pack toothpaste, so he stopped by to grab some. Somehow, he remembered to bring a giant disco ball, but no toiletries.”
I’m very skeptical oral hygiene is the actual reason this guy is skulking around her room, but I ask, “He a friend from Cambridge?” rather than say so.
“From home. We went to high school—and middle school and elementary school—together. Gia invited him.”
“He didn’t ask Gia for toothpaste.”
A pause.
“Are you jealous?”
“I just don’t … you with other guys bothers me.”
“That’s basically the definition of jealousy, Sawyer.”
“Then, fine, yeah. I’m jealous.”
Wren sighs. “Okay. I’ll go ask for the tube back.”
I scoff.
“Do you want me to be honest?” Her voice has changed. It’s lower. Softer.
“Mmhmm.”
“You’re the last guy I kissed. So, there’s really no one for you to be jealous of.”
I tilt my head back, feeling the brick scratch the back of my skull, releasing a long breath that hovers in the air for a while. I’m numbing to the cold because it feels warmer than it did when I walked out here. “We should talk, Wren.”
“We’re talking right now.”
“You know what I mean. Talk for real. Talk … about us.”
She’s quiet for several seconds. “We’ve tried that before.”
“A lot has changed.”
“I know. I’m moving to Milan, and you have a new life at Lancaster.”
“Other stuff too.”
“Like the year? You only have thirty seconds until your shot, you know.”
I figured it was pretty close to midnight by now. “It’ll taste the same at 12:01.”
I don’t have to check the time on my phone. I can hear the eruption of noise inside Lucky’s once the clock hits midnight.
She must be able to hear it, too, because she says, “Happy New Year, Sawyer.”
“Next—I mean, this year, we should celebrate together.”
“I’d like that. More than Zurich.”
“So, it’s a date?”
“It’s a date.”
I smile. “Happy New Year, Wren.”
We hang up simultaneously.
I watch one final breath linger in the January air, then jog along the salted sidewalk toward Lucky’s entrance.