And that’s pretty much how I was roped into going. You don’t know Caroline, but if you did, the first thing you’d find out is that she is not one to take things seriously. Nothing fazes her. Nothing worries her. Sometimes she is the most enlightened person on earth, other times she’s the densest. Most of the time, I’m jealous of the fact that she simply lives life in the present.  

“So, you’re going?” my friend Tom asks. He brought me my pumpkin spice latte, the first one of the season!  

I close my eyes and inhale it’s sweet aroma before taking the first sip. But even before its wonderful taste of cinnamon and nutmeg runs down my throat, Tom is already criticizing my decision.  

“I can’t believe you’re actually going,” he says. 

“Oh my God, now I know it’s officially fall,” I change the subject. “Was there actually such a thing as autumn before the pumpkin spice latte? I mean, I remember that we had falling leaves, changing colors, all that jazz, but without this…it’s like Christmas without a Christmas tree.” 

“Ellie, it’s a day after Labor Day,” Tom rolls his eyes. “It’s not fall yet.” 

I take another sip. “Oh yes, I do believe it is.” 

“Stop changing the subject,” Tom takes a sip of his plain black coffee. How he doesn’t get bored with that thing, I’ll never know. But that’s the thing about Tom. He’s reliable. Always on time, never late. It’s nice. That’s what I have always liked about him. He’s basically the opposite of Caroline in every way.  

And that’s what makes seeing him like this, as only a friend, so hard.  

“Why are you going there? Can’t Caroline go by herself?” Tom asks, looking straight into my eyes. His hair has this annoying tendency of falling into his face just as he’s making a point – as a way of accentuating it. It’s actually quite vexing especially given how irresistible it makes him look. His eyes twinkle under the low light in the back of the Starbucks.  

“I’m going as her plus one,” I announce. I make my voice extra perky on purpose. So that it portrays excitement, rather than apprehensiveness, which is actually how I’m feeling over the whole thing.  

“She’s making you go as her plus one,” Tom announces as a matter a fact. He knows me too well.  

“I just don’t get it, Ellie. I mean, why bother? It’s a super yacht filled with filthy rich people. I mean, how fun can that party be?” 

“Jealous much?” I ask.  

“I’m not jealous at all!” He jumps back in his seat. “If that’s what you think…” 

He lets his words trail off and suddenly the conversation takes on a more serious mood.  

“You don’t have to worry, I’m not going to miss your engagement party,” I say quietly. It’s the weekend after I get back.” 

He shakes his head and insists that that’s not what he’s worried about.  

“I just don’t get it Ellie,” he says.  

You don’t get it? You don’t get why I’m going? I’ve had feelings for you for, what, two years now? But the time was never right. At first, I was with my boyfriend and the night of our breakup, you decided to kiss me. You totally caught me off guard. And after that long painful breakup, I wasn’t ready for a relationship. And you, my best friend, you weren’t really a rebound contender. And then, just as I was about to tell you how I felt, you spend the night with Carrie. Beautiful, wealthy, witty Carrie. Carrie Warrenhouse, the current editor of BuzzPost, the online magazine where we both work, and the daughter of Edward Warrenhouse, the owner of BuzzPost. Oh yeah, and on top of all that, you also started seeing her and then asked her to marry you. And now you two are getting married on Valentine’s Day. And I’m really happy for you. Really. Truly. The only problem is that I’m also in love with you. And now, I don’t know what the hell to do with all of this except get away from New York. Even if it’s just for a few days.  

But of course, I can’t say any of these things. Especially the last part.  

“This hasn’t been the best summer,” I say after a few moments. “And I just want to do something fun. Get out of town. Go to a party. Because that’s all this is, a party.” 

“That’s not what I heard,” Tom says.  

“What do you mean?” 

“Ever since you told me you were going, I started looking into this event. And the rumor is that it’s not what it is.” 

I shake my head, roll my eyes.  

“What? You don’t believe me?” Tom asks incredulously.  

I shake my head.  

“Okay, what? What did you hear?” 

“It’s basically like a Playboy Mansion party on steroids. It’s totally out of control. Like one big orgy.” 

“And you would know what a Playboy Mansion party is like,” I joke.  

“I’m being serious, Ellie. I’m not sure this is a good place for you. I mean, you’re not Caroline.” 

“And what the hell does that mean?” I ask. Now, I’m actually insulted. At first, I was just listening because I thought he was being protective. But now... 

“What you don’t think I’m fun enough? You don’t think I like to have a good time?” I ask.  

“That’s not what I meant,” Tom backtracks. I start to gather my stuff. “What are you doing?” 

“No, you know what,” I stop packing up my stuff. “I’m not leaving. You’re leaving.” 

“Why?” 

“Because I came here to write. I have work to do. I staked out this table and I’m not leaving until I have something written. I thought you wanted to have coffee with me. I thought we were friends. I didn’t realize that you came here to chastise me about my decisions.” 

“That’s not what I’m doing,” Tom says, without getting out of his chair.  

“You have to leave Tom. I want you to leave.” 

“I just don’t understand what happened to us,” he says getting up, reluctantly. I stare at him as if he has lost his mind.  

“You have no right to tell me what I can or can’t do. You don’t even have the right to tell your fiancée. Unless you don’t want her to stay your fiancée for long.” 

“I’m not trying to tell you what to do, Ellie. I’m just worried. This super exclusive party on some mega-yacht, that’s not you. That’s not us.” 

“Not us? You’ve got to be kidding,” I shake my head. “You graduated from Princeton, Tom. Your father is an attorney at one of the most prestigious law-firms in Boston. He has argued cases before the Supreme Court. You’re going to marry the heir to the Warrenhouse fortune. I’m so sick and tired of your working class hero attitude, I can’t even tell you. Now, are you going to leave or should I?”  

The disappointment that I saw in Tom’s eyes hurt me to my very soul. But he had hurt me. His engagement came completely out of left field. I had asked him to give me some time after my breakup and after waiting for only two months, he started dating Carrie. And then they moved in together. And then he asked her to marry him.  

And throughout all that, he just sort of pretended that we were still friends. Just like none of this ever happened. 

I open my computer and stare at the half written story before me. Earlier today, before Caroline, before Tom, I had all of these ideas. I just couldn’t wait to get started. But now…I doubted that I could even spell my name right. Staring at a non-moving blinker never fuels the writing juices. I close my computer and look around the place. All around me, people are laughing and talking. Leggings and Uggs are back in season – even though the days are still warm and crispy. It hasn’t rained in close to a week and everyone’s good mood seems to be energized by the bright rays of the afternoon sun.  

Last spring, I was certain that Tom and I would get together over the summer and I would spend the fall falling in love with my best friend. And now? Now, he’s engaged to someone else. Not just someone else – my boss! And we just had a fight over some stupid party that I don’t even really want to go to. He’s right, of course. It’s not my style. My family might have money, but that’s not the world in which I’m comfortable. I’m always standing on the sidelines and it’s not going to be any different at this party. But if I don’t go now, after this, that means that I’m listening to him. And he has no right to tell me what to do. So, I have to go. How did everything get so messed up?