I’M SITTING ON THE BED IN MY GROSET, WATCHING Emerson pull clothing off hangers and drop them into a moving box. He can start moving into his new place today, apparently—just in time for a New Year’s Eve party there. I’m planning to bring Jamie. Andrew’s gone out because he doesn’t want to witness The Packing.
“How can you tell whose clothes are whose?” I ask him. “I mean, you guys must wear the same size.”
“You recognize your own clothes, don’t you?”
“Yeah, but guy clothes are all pretty much the same.”
Emerson gives me a dirty look. “I’m going to pretend you never said that.”
I know he’s trying to stay in a good mood, play the role of the one who wanted to leave. But I can tell by the curl of his lower lip that this is still really shitty for him.
The buzzer rings from downstairs. Emerson moves to the intercom, but I grab his arm.
“It’s Max, dropping off my stuff.”
“Okay.”
“I want him to leave it with Bonnie.”
“O-kay,” says Emerson.
“It’s just easier if I don’t see him right now.”
“Easier,” he presses.
“Oh my God, I’ll explain later.”
The buzzer goes off again, and Emerson raises one eyebrow at me, positively tantalized. I find myself holding my breath, as if Max could hear me breathe from all the way downstairs.
Emerson shakes his head. There’s a long pause.
“Pathetic,” he says. Instinctively, I shush him.
But there’s no more buzzing after that. Ten minutes later, after I hear Bonnie go downstairs, then come back up, I go over to get the bag.
“I can’t thank you enough,” I tell her.
She shakes her head and laughs. “Sweetheart, I have been in your place so many times, I keep a toothbrush there.”
When I step outside, wearing my Paris flea market dress again, it hits me. I’m going to meet Jamie at Grand Central and we’ll let the hours unroll from there. This is happening.
I keep wanting to think about Max but every time, I can stop that thinking by bringing up the image of Jamie and our painfully quick pre-kiss outside the deli. Maybe spending time with him again will send me back to that moment, before Luna, before the Bystanding, before Max and our dare. Maybe I’ll be able to move on from that street corner.
It’s strange to be out here, navigating the post-storm snow in my thin boots and wool coat, no longer hermetically sealed in that snowsuit. There’s also something in the air, a promise that tonight everyone’s going to have some kind of adventure. Because why wouldn’t they? This is New York City on December 31. Who wouldn’t want to be here, and how lucky am I to finally be part of it?
My phone dings with a text and I pause to check it. The message is simply a photo of the Hudson River from a train window.
Jamie is actually, truly on his way.
Everything is on its way.
The subway’s more crowded than usual and people are acting a little stupid but I don’t really blame them. I’d be acting stupid, too, if I had someone to do it with.
The train slows as it approaches the Seventy-Seventh Street station.
The doors open, and almost nobody gets out because this is the kind of day when everyone’s getting on, on, on.
Just before the doors close again, I look up to see Max stepping into the car.
He spots me before I can do anything. (And what would I do, really? Throw my coat over my head? Use the old lady next to me as a human shield?) There’s a moment when he’s not sure where to go, and the train starts moving again. He lurches in my direction, grabbing the pole across from me.
“Fancy meeting you here,” he says with a nervous laugh, then pauses, looks me over. “You got your stuff from the neighbor. Good.”
“Thanks for dropping it off. Sorry I missed you. I’ll get the snowsuit back to you soon.” I’m a Liar Liar Pants on Fire, and trying my best not to meet his eyes and definitely not to hear that one little Thought Worm squealing You like him! over and over in my head.
“Where are you and Jamie meeting up?” he asks casually.
“At Grand Central.”
Max’s mouth flattens and then his whole face follows suit, all straight lines and pale.
“What’s the matter?” I ask.
“I’m meeting someone at Grand Central, too.” He gives me a look.
My heart drops two stories.
“Eliza?”
Max nods. “We’re just hanging out as friends.”
I believe him, I think, but I can’t help being disappointed in him, too. This is getting way too complicated. Jamie Jamie Jamie.
We stare at each other as the train rumbles on, jolting us to the right, then the left. Max’s huge hand grips the pole tighter and now he leans his head against it, even though that’s really unsanitary. Our time together over the past few days, that’s like the subway track behind us. Gone and done, and now all that’s left is what lies on the other side of this tunnel.
“Eliza and Jamie are riding in together, of course,” Max finally says. “She wouldn’t want to travel alone.”
“Even though she knows Jamie’s coming in to meet me?”
“It’s been a few months. She probably figures, if she sees you, she can handle it.”
“What about me? What if I don’t want to see her?” Panic rises up in my throat at the thought of her face in front of mine. I pull out my phone. “I should text Jamie and ask him to meet me somewhere else. Away from her.”
I start typing, my fingers missing half the keys.
“Kendall,” says Max, reaching down and taking my phone out of my hand. “What’s the big deal, if you see her?”
I look up at him. He’s asking a real question; his eyes are round and dark with concern and curiosity. So I stare out the train window and pretend that instead of seeing darkness, I see what happens when I face Eliza again for the first time since the night I made out with her boyfriend.
“I guess I can handle it,” I say with a sigh. “At least we’ll be in a big crowded place crawling with security.”
Max rolls his eyes, but doesn’t tell me I’m overreacting.
We’re silent the rest of the ride.
They’re supposed to be waiting for us at the information booth in the middle of Grand Central, below the big four-sided clock that seems extra symbolic here on New Year’s Eve. Why can’t I shake the feeling that time is running out for something?
It’s insanely crowded, worse than it was on Fifth Avenue the other day, but I see them as soon as we round the corner into the main terminal: Jamie, taking photos of the star-sprinkled ceiling, and Eliza, leaning against the booth, eyes closed.
“Nobody expects anyone to stick together,” whisper-shouts Max. “We’ll do our own thing, you guys do yours.”
I nod, and of course, of course, this is the moment—when Max is leaning forward with his lips at my ear—Eliza spots us. She doesn’t seem to react, except to elbow Jamie, who puts down his camera and smiles when he sees me.
Here he comes now. After all the thinking I’ve been doing about him over the last few days, I’m so glad to see him and have proof that yes, he really does exist.
“Hey, you,” he says, and wraps his arms around me and doesn’t pull away.
“I’m so glad you’re here,” I tell him, then look over at Max and Eliza. He stoops to hug her and they kiss each other on the cheek. She doesn’t glance at me.
“Don’t be mad,” says Jamie.
“I ran into Max on the train, so I had advance notice. And it’s okay.”
Jamie glances back. “You mean, Eliza.”
“Yes.”
“Okay, so don’t be mad I didn’t tell you . . .”
“About what?”
But the what steps out from the other side of the kiosk.
Ari Logan, aka my best friend, who I haven’t seen since I left for Europe last August.
“Oh my God!” I gasp, and within seconds, I’m falling toward her. She’s falling toward me. We’re hugging tight, tight, tight. Ari’s shoulders are still square and solid, and she smells the same, and I’m starting to cry because it’s only now that I realize how much I’ve missed her.
“I know we were going to hang out after Christmas,” I begin to say. “I’m sorry I left town again so quickly.”
“No worries,” she says, then pulls back to examine me. “You look great. Globe-trotting becomes you.”
I laugh. “Thanks.”
Ari spots something in the distance and smiles. I turn to see.
It’s her boyfriend, Camden, winding toward us through the crowd with a Zaro’s Family Bakery bag clutched to his chest.
“Hey, thanks for waiting,” he says when he reaches us, slipping his non-Zaro’s arm around Ari. “I’ve been thinking about this coffee cake for the last ninety minutes.”
“We don’t want to cramp your style tonight,” says Ari, glancing sideways at Jamie. “But I really wanted to see you before school started again. And it’s New Year’s Eve, in New York City. We can split up whenever. Camden and I will find things to do.”
“No,” I say. “There’s a party at Emerson’s brand-new apartment and I want you guys to come.”
Eliza and Max have been chatting, and now Max steps into our circle. “I think we should get out of this crush of people and find somewhere to eat,” he says. “Eliza says there’s a great noodle house close by.”
I glance at Eliza, who looks away. So it’s going to be like this, and actually I’m relieved.
We make our way out of Grand Central, walking in formation. Two by two by two. Do we look like dorky kids from upstate clogging Manhattan on New Year’s Eve? God, I hope so.
Eventually we make it out the side exit to Lexington Avenue and start walking downtown. Eliza leads the way and it’s as if she’s always led the way; how did we ever get around the city without her leading the way? When we pass a young couple begging on one corner, Max turns to look back at me. We haven’t talked about the dare because I assumed we were done, but we have three kindnesses left, points to score, spaces to fill. A flicker in Max’s expression says, We’re still on.
Ari and Camden walk ahead of Jamie and me, holding hands, which feels extra awkward for us. It’s like a message from my near future. IF YOU DON’T SCREW THIS UP, YOU’LL BE HOLDING HANDS TOO! After we stop at a light and then start moving again, I make sure Jamie and I are in front of them.
Eliza steers us to the door of a restaurant and we pour inside. The place is tiny so the staff scrambles to push together three tables where we can all fit. I sit down in the chair on the end, Jamie sits across from me, and Ari next to me. Eliza moves to the other side of Ari, and now she and I can’t really see each other.
This is ridiculous. At some point we’re going to have to speak and acknowledge the other’s existence and possibly even interact. And why isn’t Max noticing this and doing something about it? It makes so much sense to blame this on Max.
Once I let myself be mad at him, I realize how awesome it feels to be mad at him. It feels a little like freedom. Why didn’t I think of this before?