Zahra Virani

“So… are you ready to see him?”

I don’t take my eyes off the road before me as Inez asks the question from the passenger seat. “See who?” I ask, straining my eyes to read the street signs through the quickly-falling dusk.

Inez sighs, and I don’t have to look at her to know she’s rolling her eyes. “Don’t pull that shit with me. You know exactly who I’m talking about.” 

Goosebumps rise along my arms as I put on my turn signal and make a left onto the main road of Pineridge, which cuts right through the small town’s center. On the left stretches a row of white and beige houses, one after the other in a patterned line. On the right stretches hometown landmarks: Billy’s Diner, which was home to dozens of late-night pancakes with friends and the place where I worked my first job; the Methodist church where my parents always took my brother and me on Christmas; and finally, Pineridge High School. It all looks so, so familiar, and I feel so, so different from the girl I was when I called these places my home. 

Inez grumbles something under her breath, and I do my best to ignore it as I park my car right between the Methodist and the school that used to be ours. I turn the key in the ignition and open my door, and the frigid December wind whips my hair into my face. Inez curses and comes to stand next to me, staring at the white house in front of us. “Been a while since we’ve been here, huh?” she says.

I nod. “Over a year, for me.”

“Do you think you’re ready to see everyone?” The last word dangles from her lips, the sentence unfinished. Him, I know she wanted to say again. Are you ready to see Christopher?

“I saw Betty last summer,” I say instead, looking both ways before stepping into the street. Days-old snow sloshes under my feet like a melted 7-Eleven Slurpee. Inez sighs and falls into step beside me as together, we approach the house. 

His house.

I’m about the knock on the door when Inez puts up a hand to stop me. “Before we go in, you need to promise me that you won’t be weird with him. I’m serious, Thea.” I look at her, and there isn’t a trace of humor in her eyes.

I swallow my saliva, and my pride along with it. “I promise.”

“Okay.” She hesitates. “Because I don’t think you realize how much your leaving affected him. I think he still has feelings for you.”

“That’s bull—,”

“It’s not. He hasn’t so much as looked at anyone else since you guys ended your … whatever it was.”

“I like to call it a one-time situationship.”

She cringes. “Maybe don’t call it that to his face.”

I knock on the door before she can say anything else. Moments later, it’s flung open by a girl with a face full of freckles and a large grin. Even though they’re fraternal twins, August looks so much like Christopher that it’s momentarily painful. She tackles us with a hug, giggling and tugging us inside. “Finally, you guys are here! You’re the last ones to arrive.”

“It’s good to see you, August,” I say, detaching myself from her grasp. She leads downstairs to the basement, already filling Inez in on the hometown drama. As the only two people who left the state for college, Inez and I are consistently out of the loop. 

I skip the second stair from the top out of habit, but they don’t. The resounding creak seeps through all of my mental walls as the memories hit me one after the other, like fat droplets of freezing rain: running footsteps, hands entwined, whispered giggles. Talking on his black leather couch until 3 a.m., and hearing him say the words I’d dreamed of for so long. The door slamming behind me as I left, unable to look back. My going away party the next day, where his face was the only one missing.

I haven’t seen Christopher since that night; I haven’t been here since that night, at the end of last summer before I left for my first year of college. I’d skipped the annual New Year’s Eve party at his house, because four months was too short to erase the leftover guilt from that night. But here I am one year later trying again, because Inez had spent hours convincing me to come with her. “Don’t come for him,” she’d said. “All of our friends will be there, just like old times. You can’t spend another New Year sitting at home alone and eating grapes under your table.” 

And she was right. That was lame, and I’d hated it last year. So I paste a smile onto my face as the basement comes into view, and everyone turns to look at us. “Now the party can really start!” August whoops, leading us deeper into the room, which has been frozen in time. There’s the leather couch right across from their unfortunately placed dartboard and flat-screen TV, which still bears a tiny crack on the left side of the screen where a stray dart thrown by a drunk Christopher permanently scarred it. Along the walls hang photos his parents put up years ago and never switched out, of him and August grinning at the camera at all different stages of adolescence. 

Before I can get too lost in my surroundings, Betty’s arms are around me, with James right behind her. “I am so glad you came,” she says, pulling away. She looks me up and down. “Also, you look great. College looks good on you.”

“Thanks,” I reply, as James pulls me in for another hug. I try to live in the moment, but I catch a flash of Christopher’s blond hair over his shoulder, and it takes all of my willpower not to stare. 

But I am weak, so I do stare, and then his blue eyes meet mine and I can’t remember why I’m here. I should leave, right now, if I could only find my car keys. Where did I put them? Why did I ever listen to Inez? Why did I ever like Christopher in the first place, why am I here, I shouldn’t be here—

“Thea?”

Betty is staring at me with a furrowed brow, like she can see every single thought that’s in my head. And knowing her, she probably can.

I glance over my shoulder at where he’s standing, engaged in conversation with our friend Rebecca. His back is to me so he can’t see me staring, thank goodness. For a moment I let myself remember what it was like to be around him, even just as friends. I remember the way his eyes crinkled when he laughed, and how intensely he’d make eye contact with someone when they talked, so you knew he was giving you his undivided attention. He had the ability to make me feel like I was the only person on the whole planet who mattered, and I missed those little moments just as much as I missed the idea of a romantic “us,” if not more so. 

Betty puts her hand on my shoulder. “You should talk to him,” she says, giving me a little shove in his direction. I let the motion propel me forward step by step until I’m right behind him and it’s too late to talk myself out of it. What do I really have to lose?

The second Rebecca sees me, her eyes widen. She immediately excuses herself to go talk to August and Inez, and then Christopher turns around.

My legs turn to lead and refuse to move as he stares at me. The smile that had been on his lips moments before drops a little at the sight of me, and he runs his fingers through his dirty blond hair. He’s grown it out since I last saw him into a medium-length middle part, rather than the close-cropped buzz I knew so well. It suits him, I can’t help but think as his eyes search my face. I wish I knew what he was thinking.

“Hey,” he says, after what seems like forever but is probably just a few seconds.

My entire mouth feels like it has been swabbed dry with a cotton ball. I force my jaw to squeak out a “Hi.”

“How are you?” he says, staring at me with those blue eyes that I’ve never been able to resist.

“I’m great,” I reply quickly. It’s not a lie, but I say it so unconvincingly that it sounds like it is. “I’ve been so great. Like, really and truly, everything has been going really … great.” 

I am an idiot. I am such an idiot, I think as he stares at me. If his insides have also turned into a pile of mush, his face doesn’t show it. He just nods and says, “That’s great to hear,” and I think that I never want to hear the word “great” again.

I fidget with the hem of my sweater, picking at the white stitches as I try to think of something else to say. “Um. How have you been?”

“I’ve been good,” he says, a little slowly. “College is fine. I’ve been working.”

“That’s good,” I say. “Where—?”

“The diner,” he says before I finish. “I’m the assistant manager now.”

“That’s great,” I say, nodding just a little too vigorously. “Congrats, Chris. That’s really—”

“Great?” He gives me a small smile.

I am crashing and burning. This whole conversation is a dumpster fire. I should be muzzled like a dog that bites people too often; I shouldn’t be allowed to speak, because all I am doing is word vomiting all over him, too drunk on the thoughts in my head to say anything even remotely coherent.

Betty must see me struggling because she and James insert themselves into the conversation. She hooks her arm through the crook of my elbow and leads me over to the other side of the room. “He doesn’t hate you, you know,” she says, dropping her voice to a near-whisper.

I can feel his eyes on the back of my head. Don’t turn around, my brain repeats in a silent mantra. “What?”

“Christopher. He doesn’t hate you. Not even close, so you can stop acting all awkward.”

Heat blooms across my cheeks. “Does he still … you know.”

“Like, does he like you?” Betty hesitates. “It’s hard to say. But I think you should talk to him.”

“I can’t,” I say immediately.

“Why not? What’s the worst that could—,”

“Because I’m not over him.” The words spill out of my mouth before I can stop them. 

Betty blinks at me. “What?”

My stomach pulls itself into a Gordian knot. Before I can think better of it, I’m telling her everything. “I’ve had a crush on him for years. You know that.”

“Of course. But he professed his love to you and you turned him down.”

“Because I thought it would be stupid to go to college five hours away with a brand new relationship. It was awful timing, and I said we should wait until break or something at least, when we had a little more time together in person. But it broke his heart because he thought that meant I didn’t have faith in us, so it never happened, not even over break. And I’ve felt so guilty about it ever since, because it’s my fault that we’re not together. It’s my fault that it never worked out.”

Betty blinks at me, long and slow. The seconds seem to drag on, until finally she breathes, “What?”

The knot pulls itself a little tighter. “This is awful of me, I know–,”

“No, I— Thea, this changes everything. I didn’t know any of that. He never told any of that to me or James.”

It’s my turn to stare at her. “He didn’t?”

“No. I mean, he didn’t really want to talk about it at all, so we all thought you’d told him it was too late and he was still pining. But if you’re still into him, if you’re also still pining for him, then … this is lowkey perfect.”

It takes me a moment to comprehend what she’s suggesting. “You think we should rectify things now? Make amends and get together, when, tonight?”

Betty shrugs. “Why not? At the very least leave this all in the past, and go into the new year with some closure.” She nods to where he’s standing behind me, and when I turn around he’s staring back at me, still talking to James. I wonder if they’re having a similar conversation.

Before I can decide whether or not I’m ready, Betty’s arm is entwined with mine and she’s leading me back over to where Christopher and James are standing. She says something to them and they laugh, but I can’t hear a word over the cacophony of voices in my brain, each one shouting commands and debating what to say, how to act, whether or not I should just give up and run. 

Then I blink, and Betty is leading James away. It’s just me and Christopher again, and his eyes ask a thousand questions that I’m not ready to answer. I remind myself to breathe. In, out. In, out. 

I speak. “Hey. Or, well— hey again.”

He gives me a small smile back. “Hey again. Do you, um. Do you want to sit down?” He nods at the couch.

That stupid black leather couch. 

“Sure,” I manage, following him over. We both sit down, several inches apart. I almost don’t hear him when he says, “Where were we? How’s college?” 

It would be so easy to just tell him the basics: that college is great, that I’ve made a lot of friends, that my classes are interesting. It would be so easy to never mention that night, to just pretend that it never happened and we can just go back to being friends, the way we were before. But that’s not why I’m sitting here on this couch, talking to him for the first time in over a year. 

He keeps looking at me, and I realize he’s waiting for me to speak. I take a deep breath. “Honestly, I—,”

“Midnight in ten seconds!” August shouts from the front of the room. “Everyone grab someone to kiss! Or if you’re single and lame, here’s a bowl of grapes.” She pops one in her mouth as next to her, Betty and James — our friend group’s resident couple since sophomore year — lean into each other. “Ten!”

Christopher and I look at each other.

“Nine!”

“What were you gonna say?” he asks me.

“Eight!”

I can’t do this, I think. My whole body tenses as I take another deep breath.

“Seven!”

“Dorothea?”

“Six!”

“I want to apologize for that night,” I start. I don’t need to specify which, because he knows exactly when I’m talking about.

“Five!”

“I never lost feelings for you. Five hours and a million miles could never change the way I feel, and I wish I’d been able to say that then, but I wasn’t ready.”

“Four!”

I finish my thought before I can chicken out. “I don’t expect you to still feel the same way or anything, but I just wanted you to go into the new year knowing. And I needed to say it, so at the very least, we can both move on. 

“Three!”

His gaze is so intense that it takes all of my concentration not to squirm. “Are you … gonna say something?” I ask.

“Two!”

“Do you really mean that?” he says, so softly.

“One!”

Everyone shouts “Happy New Year!” as I nod and wait for something to happen. He keeps staring at me. 

Then I blink and his hand is cupping my face and we’re kissing the way we only dared to that one night before, when the reality of us felt possible for the first time. I kiss him back, and not a single New Year’s Eve fireworks display could compare to the fireworks that are currently exploding in my brain, whistling and popping and filling my heart with warmth and light and color.

When he pulls away, he’s grinning, and I can’t tell whose smile is wider: his or my own. “Sorry,” he says, a little sheepish. “I couldn’t help it.”

“Happy New Year to us,” I say, letting my fingers entwine with his. 

He squeezes my hand, his eyes never leaving my face. “Happy New Year to us,” he agrees, before pressing his lips to mine once more.

***

“I’m sorry, then he said what?”

Betty and Inez stare at me in disbelief over our joint Facetime call. I fold another pair of jeans and put them into my dorm room dresser, then shrug. “I don’t know. It was actually insane. Like, we spent the entire rest of break together, all for him to drop right before I leave that he’s been talking to a girl from the diner this entire time?” 

“That’s so fucked,” Betty says, outraged. “What an asshole.”

“I’m shocked, personally,” Inez adds. “Like, I swear I thought he’d been into you this whole time. August said he was always moping around the house and that he never, ever talked about another woman. He certainly never mentioned an ‘Esty from the diner.’”

“She said the same to me,” Betty agrees. “She said her twin-tuition told her he was still in love with Thea. Isn’t that a thing?”

“Apparently not,” I sigh, grabbing a T-shirt from my open suitcase. “But seriously, guys. I appreciate your concern, but I’m over it.”

Inez raises her eyebrows. “You sure about that?”

I roll up the T-shirt and place it into my open drawer. “I promise. Like, of course it sucks, and of course I’m mad at him, because what the hell was he thinking?”

“Men don’t think,” Betty chimes in. Inez chuckles.

“But at least we tried it, you know?” I continue. “Like, we tried again, and now we know. We’re not meant for anything more than friendship. And honestly? That’s probably for the better.”

“I guess.” Betty frowns. “But it would’ve been so cute. Like, you guys have been waiting for this for so long.”

“Is it gonna be even more awkward when we try to all hang out on breaks now?” Inez whines. 

I shut my drawer and hop onto my bed, picking up my phone from where it was propped against my pillow. “It doesn’t have to be. Like I am genuinely one hundred percent over it, so as long as he doesn’t make things weird, I won’t make things weird.”

“If he does, I’ll give him a piece of my mind,” Betty threatens. I can’t help but laugh. 

Inez sighs. “Well. I guess this just goes to show that you should never hook up with someone from your hometown.”

“Absolutely not.” I stare outside my dorm room window where snow has started falling, tiny white flecks tumbling down from a gray sky. They seem to multiply as I stare at them, and I marvel at the idea that somehow, they’re all unique, even if I can’t tell them apart from here. There’s an infinite amount of crystal combinations, and for a moment, I let myself believe that the snowflakes outside my window are as numerous and different as the experiences of the year ahead, of the opportunities I’ll have. Of the places I’ll go, and of the people I’ll meet.

Without thinking, I smile. “Besides,” I continue, not tearing my eyes from the fast-falling flurries. “There’s a long year ahead. Who knows what could happen?”