NEW YEAR, NEW LIFE

“Hey, Jules,” Eric greets me as I take my seat next to him on the bus, the tone of his voice and expression on his face both reflecting an unease between us.

“Hey…I didn’t think I would see you on here anymore.”

Eric and I haven’t talked since he invited me to have dinner with him and his family for his birthday, which I declined. To be exact, I said, “I’m not your girlfriend, Eric. Rachel is,” and hung up on him. It hadn’t been because I was mad—not really. I was hurt. Hanging up on him seemed like a better option than letting him hear me cry.

Just a few days prior to that, he’d been at my house, on my bed, watching a movie with me, and I’d been sure he was going to kiss me. He wanted to kiss me, I was positive of it—sure he would have if Lori hadn’t interrupted when she did. But I didn’t hear from him at all for two days. When he called to ask me to dinner, I thought maybe he wanted me there as something more than just his friend. Until he told me his girlfriend would be there as well. The hope that had bubbled up in my chest erupted, shattering my heart. Now, I’m questioning whether I can handle continuing our friendship.

Everything is so confusing. One minute, Eric makes me feel special and important. The next, I feel more like a consolation prize—like I’m someone he hangs out with when his girlfriend isn’t available. He means so much to me—way more than he should. My entire day seems brighter with him in it and dimmer without him. It’s terrifying to have so much invested in a person, especially when you don’t feel they have the same investment in you.

“No car yet,” he sighs, shrugging. “Guess you’re stuck with me a little longer.”

“That works for me,” I chirp, flashing him a weak smile.

“Good.” When his eyes finally meet mine, his stare feels intrusive, as if he’s searching for something. He breaks his stare, his focus moving to his bag, and relief floods through me. I take greedy breaths as I watch him dig through his backpack before producing a small wrapped box. “Happy sixteenth birthday, Jules,” he says, holding the box out for me to take.

My heart slams against my chest as I look down at the small box then back up at him. If I wasn’t already feeling like shit for skipping out on his birthday dinner, I would be now.

“Oh no.” I shake my head as my eyes move to the box again. “I can’t. I mean, I didn’t—”

“I got my friend a gift,” he interrupts, his tone flat and sharp at the same time. “It’s not a big deal, Jules. Just take it.”

This is exactly the kind of situation that leaves my head spinning. Eric getting me a birthday gift after the way I acted is sweet and thoughtful, but his words…well, those keep reality clearly in check. Maybe he doesn’t see getting his friend a birthday gift as a “big deal,” but it is to me.

Reluctantly, I reach out and take the gift from him. “Thank you.”

“Well, go on,” he prompts, waving his hand around. “Open it.”

My hands shake as I pick at the tape, hating the thought of ripping the neatly wrapped paper. When I get to the box and lift the lid, I find a gold, heart-shaped keychain. Tears fill my eyes as a lump grows in the back of my throat. Reaching out, I trace my finger over the engraving on it. Jules. He had them put his nickname for me on it. He’d put consideration and effort into my gift, and it’s quite possibly the best present I’ve ever received. It’s perfect, but I don’t know whether I want to hug him or punch him. My heart can’t take this tug of war much longer.

December 31st

“Do you want a drink?” Eric asks, changing out the lens on the camera.

This isn’t exactly how I would’ve chosen to bring in the new year, but I suppose it could be worse. Eric was commissioned to photograph a wedding—of all things—and decided tonight would be the perfect time to show me the ropes. Having your wedding on New Year’s Eve is a little cliché if you ask me, but then again, maybe I’m jaded.

“Is that allowed?” I ask cautiously. I’d love a drink to help calm my nerves, but I’m technically working and I don’t want my “boss” to think I’m not taking my job seriously. “I mean, we’re working.”

“Theoretically yes…” Turning his attention to me, he gives me that infamous smirk, and my stomach flutters. “But it’s also New Year’s Eve. If we must suffer through this wedding, we should at least be able to have a drink. What do you say?”

“Okay,” I agree, tucking my hair behind my ears.

“All right.” Rubbing his hands together, he looks around the ballroom until he spots the open bar. “I’ll be right back.”

As I watch him walk away, I can’t help smiling. The night is going much better than expected. There’s been a natural ease between us that almost feels like old times.

He returns quickly with a beer in one hand and a glass of champagne in the other. “They didn’t have a lot of choices,” he tells me, shrugging apologetically.

“Champagne is great.” I take the proffered glass before tipping it back and downing half. “It goes straight to your head.”

He regards me with curiosity, his lips curving upward before he takes a sip of his beer.

“So, if you weren’t stuck here with me at this wedding, how would you be bringing in the new year?” he asks, focusing on the couples on the dance floor.

“I’d probably be with my girlfriend and her kids. What about you?”

“I probably would’ve stayed at home alone.” He looks over at me out the corner of his eye. “Does that make me lame?”

“That? No. But you’re definitely lame.”

His head whips over in my direction and he lets out a hardy laugh causing a warmth to bloom in my chest as memories flood me—memories of a different time, when I was a different person and Eric was one of my best friends.

January 1st

“I think I may have had one too many,” I slur as Eric packs up the equipment. Maybe it was more than one too many, given that my vision seems a little blurred. After my fourth glass of champagne, I lost count. It’s officially a new year, but I’m not sure whether I’m starting a new life or stepping back into an old one. “Oh shit! I drove!”

“I know,” he chuckles. “Don’t worry. I only had the one beer and didn’t even finish it. I’m fine to drive.” He hitches his bag over his shoulder and hands me my purse. “Come on. Let’s get out of here.”

Giggling like an idiot, I follow behind him as he makes his way out of the venue. “Do you think it’s true what they say?” I ask, concentrating on my steps to keep from stumbling.

“About what?”

“You know, that whatever you’re doing when you bring in the new year is how you’ll spend the rest of the year.”

“What?” He jeers, shaking his head. “I’ve never heard that one.”

“Well, I hope it’s true.”

“Why is that?” He smirks, coming to a stop next to my car. “Are you hoping to stay drunk all year long?”

“No.” I playfully shove him, and he laughs. “I’m hoping to spend it with you—with us together, like this.”

Drunk or not, as soon as the words are out of my mouth, I want to shove them right back in, and the awkward silence that follows only makes it worse. He’s completely silent and unmoving for several seconds, which feels more like years, his stare void of all emotion.

“Keys,” he finally demands, holding out his hand.

Feeling a lot less inebriated from my sobering admission, my jaw clenches and eyes narrow as I fight the urge to tell him to go to hell—to tell him what an asshole he is. Actually, it’s more like an intense desire to punch him, but I merely do as I’m bid, retrieving my keys from my purse and handing them to him.

He unlocks the doors, and I get into the passenger side of the car while he puts his gear in the trunk. After he slides in behind the wheel, he looks over at me expectantly.

“What?”

“I can’t believe you kept it,” he whispers.

“Kept what?”

He holds up my keys, the heart-shaped keychain draped over the palm of his hand, and my head spins. The combination of the champagne and making a fool of myself has taken a toll on me, souring my good mood drastically.

“Of course I did.” I dramatically collapse against the seat and crossing my arms. “It’s special to me. I don’t throw away things that are special to me. Maybe I never meant that much to you, but you meant a lot to me.”

He goes quiet again, and I turn toward the passenger side window in a huff. By the time the car roars to life, tears are trailing down my face.