Chapter 20
Twenty
A New Year
“Huh?” I drag my attention away from the drunken news anchors on the television and try to focus on Bree. Honestly, I’m not much better off than the two idiots giggling over a tray of jello shots in front of the jumbotron.
Across the room, Seth laughs. “He’s going to stop spacing out in the middle of conversations.”
“Fat chance, smartass,” I snort. “Um — academia. Handed in my last set of final grades two weeks ago, and I regret nothing. Hookup apps. And being a sad, lonely bastard.”
Cole snuggles into me, running a hand along my thigh. “Still a bastard, though, I hope.”
“I mean, that goes without saying.” I turn to look over at him.
Even though it’s a casual party, just a few of Bree and Seth’s friends from Boston staying overnight at the Slade house on the Cape, I know it’s a big deal that he’s chosen to be comfortable tonight.
He’s wearing his glasses and a pale pink sweater, and I can’t stop touching him.
“What about you? What are you leaving behind?”
“Not being with you,” he murmurs, and I don’t care that we’re in a room full of people. I take his hand and hold it against my chest, and when he looks at me, we’re our own island.
Well, not quite. Across the room, Bree sighs and rolls her eyes in mock exasperation. “You two are hopeless. Dave, it’s your turn —”
The chatter moves past us, but I’m only sort of listening.
I’ve gotten more used to being around people in the last few months, to accepting that not everyone sees me as a hideous, unlovable monster.
But still, in a crowd like this, I prefer to hang back and observe, to let sound flow around but not always through me.
So I slide down in my seat, nestling beneath Cole’s outstretched arm, and I let myself drift, knowing that I have everything I need right here.
Soon it’s almost midnight, and Cole wiggles out from underneath me to help Bree pass out glasses of champagne.
On the TV, the poor frozen assholes who went to Times Square on purpose instead of getting the hell out of the city are bouncing up and down in anticipation.
Someone is singing “Imagine,” and Cole pulls me to my feet, slinging an arm around my shoulders and clinking our glasses together.
“Here’s to being the people we’ve always wanted to be,” he whispers, just loud enough for me to hear.
“To second chances,” I agree. “To being us.”
“Five — four — three — two — one — HAPPY NEW YEAR!”
His kiss is champagne-fizzy, sweet and lingering.
The TV is still on, and people are chattering all around us, and there are a few wolf-whistles as I throw my arms around his neck and keep him in place.
But this is the thing I never thought I’d have, that I’ve never even dared to dream about, not since I was a teen on a frozen night just like this one in a New Jersey backyard.
And when Cole pulls me into a crushing hug, murmuring words of love into my ear, I know he’s feeling it too.
When we finally break apart, Bree and Seth are beside us, and there are more hugs and kisses, more wishes for a better future.
The party goes on, and we mingle — well, Cole mingles.
No matter how far I’ve come, small talk still makes me feel like I have several extra limbs, or that my skinsuit is three sizes too small.
So I walk around the room collecting glasses, and when my arms are laden, I bring them back to the kitchen.
The back door is right there. I don’t think it would hurt if I took just a minute to step into the quiet, to center myself as the party winds down. And so I cross the room, slipping out into the night.
The backyard is just as I remember it, except for the layer of frost in the grass, the way my breath puffs a white cloud in front of me with every exhale.
I could go back in for my coat, but somehow I don’t want to break the spell.
I walk across the yard toward the water, and I can’t help thinking about how my heart was breaking the last time I strode across this grass, how wrong I was about Cole and myself and everything.
We’ve talked it all over, and I know how strong we are now, but I feel like I’ll still carry that memory with me, words and tears poured into the soil beneath my feet.
The Sound is right in front of me, black under the night sky but not silent, gentle waves lapping against the shore.
There’s a light breeze that cuts across my face, but when I reach the dock, I keep going, my footsteps plodding over worn wooden planks.
At the end of the dock, I sit, my feet dangling over the water.
It’s overcast tonight, so there are no stars to speak of, only the occasional glimpse of a half moon as the clouds drift across the sky.
But I tilt my head back anyway, drinking in the vastness above me and before me, my tiny self in the face of infinity, the total peace that comes from being alone before such enormity.
I hear him coming long before he speaks.
“It is cold as fuck out here.” Cole flops down onto the edge of the dock beside me, snuggling into my side as he crosses his arms over his chest, shoving his hands into his armpits. I throw a protective arm around his shoulders.
“Hey, nobody made you follow me. I was just — I dunno, I needed a break. Too loud.”
“Yeah, I get it.” We’re quiet for a while, dangling our feet in midair off the dock, listening to the night. “Actually, you know — it’s not too bad. It was getting kinda stuffy in there.”
“That’s what I thought,” I agree.
He leans into my side, and I listen to him breathing, and it’s not the first time in the past few months that I’ve found myself reflecting — that no matter what I thought I knew about Cole, no matter how much I’ve idolized him, no matter how many times I’ve compared us in my head and found myself lacking — that deep down inside us, there’s something that is the same.
And every day, that lonely thing in me reaches out to that lonely thing in him, and when we come together, those broken parts of us are made whole.
Beside me, Cole huffs, chafing his hands on his thighs. “Okay, I’m fucking freezing. Come inside with me and I’ll suck you off?”
I can’t help cracking up. “What about the rest of the party?”
“We’ll sneak up the back stairs.” He stands up, holding out his hand. “Come on — warm blankets, bare skin, lots of kissing, saving your boyfriend from certain death —”
I let him drag me to my feet. “My boyfriend, who is never, ever a drama queen —”
Cole drapes his arms around my shoulders, dipping his face toward mine. “You love it though —”
“Yeah —” I whisper, leaning in to brush our lips together. “I really fucking do.”