It was New Year’s Eve of junior year, and I’d pretty much given up hope that he saw me as anything but a friend. All autumn, I’d been falling for him, counting down the minutes between our hallways conversations, or those precious moments when he drove me home. But every time we were together, he was nothing but a gentleman. He’d drop me off with a smile and a ‘see you around’. Meanwhile, I’d glimpse him sneaking out of school with senior girls, hear the murmurs of gossip about his latest hook-ups.
So when a girl from drama club invited me to this big New Year’s Eve party that the whole senior class was attending, I decided it was my one chance. I remember how I agonized over my outfit, even consulting Lottie and parading the different options around my room. I spent hours on my hair and makeup, trying to look like one of those cool girls Finn seemed to like, holding out a distant hope that I could make him see me differently. Not just some kid sister figure or charity case, but older and mature. I wince to think of it now, but at sixteen, it felt like the most important thing in the world. My parents loaned me the car for the night – with strict instructions not to drink and drive – and off I set, to the biggest night in my teenage life.
Except it didn’t work out as planned. Finn didn’t come. All night, I watched the door, my heart sinking as the hours ticked past. He didn’t show, and I felt like the biggest fool for even dreaming I could catch his eye. I snuck into one of the bathrooms and scrubbed my face clean of all that makeup, then left out the back door, driving aimlessly into the dark.
I didn’t see the deer that ran out into the midnight road – and neither did the car coming in the other direction. I managed to swerve just in time, but the other car wasn’t so lucky. It struck the deer with a sickening crunch, then drove right off the road and into a ditch. When I recovered from the shock and scrambled out to help, I found Hank McKay unconscious behind the steering wheel, stinking of beer and cheap cigarettes.
For some reason, I panicked and tried calling Finn. I got his voicemail, cursed my stupidity, and dialed 911 like I should have done the first time. The sheriff came and woke Hank. A tow-truck winched the car out of the ditch, and in the end I went home and straight to bed, feeling the failure of all my grand plans. My parents were still out at a neighborhood party, and Lottie was sleeping over at a friend’s place. I was alone in the house when I heard a rattle at the window. Somebody was throwing pebbles up from the yard below.
I swung the pane open, sleepy and confused, and there he was: bathed in moonlight, a Romeo in his leather jacket wearing an irresistible smile. Finn.
“You can’t sleep through New Year’s,” he called up to me. “C’mon. Come take a drive.”
I can still feel it, the possibility that shimmered in his beckoning invitation. Even if I’d known what was coming, and how that one decision would change the course of everything, I still don’t think I could have stayed away. He was inevitable. My temptation.
Half a perfect world that was mine, just for a little while.
I get dressed and drive over to the harbor for Saturday brunch, determined to get my life back to normal. Lottie and Dee are already stationed at our regular café on the pier, drinking Bloody Marys while Kit snoozes in his buggy.
“So, how was the hot date?” Lottie greets me eagerly. They’ve already ordered, thank God, and the table is full of pancakes and coffee.
I sit next to her and hungrily devour a crisp slice of bacon. “Sawyer didn’t show. He got caught up in an emergency.”
“I know all about that.” Lottie waves. “Dee filled me in. I’m talking about Finn McKay.”
“What?” My head whips around.
“The hottie hot-tot rock star,” Dee agrees, smirking. “I said you had dibs.”
For a terrible moment, I think she’s talking about the kiss, but then I realize, she just saw us together at the bar. “Oh, that’s nothing. We had a drink, caught up, then I headed home.”
Lottie arches an eyebrow. “That’s it? Damn, I thought you’d finally get some action.”
“Nope,” I say firmly, glad that sunglasses are hiding my eyes. “No action of any kind here. It’s an action-free zone.”
Outside my shower, that is.
Lottie perks up again. “Well, there’s still the vet. Marilyn Peterson heard from Debbie Hess that he has very steady hands.”
I snort. “And how does that figure?”
“That’s for you to find out,” Lottie winks, and I laugh, finally relaxing.
We dig in, catching up on Delilah’s potential new client and Kit’s big new passion for a duckie toy, and the rest of the thrilling gossip from our small town. The sun is bright over the water, and the boats bob gently nearby, crisp white against the waves. Surrounded by laughter and gossip, my tension lifts. I’m glad to be far away from dark, romantic streets and men I shouldn’t be kissing.
“So, any more thoughts about your birthday?” I ask my sister, when finally there are nothing but empty plates and full stomachs. She’s turning twenty next week, and I want to plan something special for her.
“I don’t care.” Lottie grins. “As long as there’s a babysitter and booze.”
Delilah fakes shock. “You mean drinking underage? Scandalous.”