One More Time

by Kat Pace

  I think I may die right here on the street.

  I examine every detail in the pic. Her ugly fucking dress. The water behind them. The electric teal cabanas of Star Resort. His face again.

  My heart skips.

  Then I relax. Then I breathe.

  I remember their striking similarities: same hair, same jawline and almost the same height. But he is a little thinner, not as much muscle. Then I don’t mind the crystal diamond ring anymore. In fact it looks nice on Lauren’s finger.

  Then her dress is actually pretty. Brody is actually Brody. I’m actually still alive. The hyperventilating subsides.

  “Emmy?” Trix is looking at me funny.

  “What?” I say. I didn’t realize I had stopped dead in my tracks. Stopped right in front of the Ramen advertisement.

  “What’s up with you?” She asks, looking like I’m sick or something.

  I am sick.

  “Are you OK? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” She looks at my phone in my hand to my face again.

  “I’m fine!” I blurt out too fast. Man, my voice can get high. “Can’t swipe and walk at the same time, sorry.”

  “Okayyy…” She stresses the word like she doesn’t believe it. Like I’m not OK.

  I quicken my pace to keep up with her and Travis. It’s not helping my heart calm down.

  The entire walk I feel like I see him everywhere.

  Hysteria is real.

  I see him across the street, his head tilted back and laughing, under a streetlamp. I see him in the shadows, down side streets, down hidden alleyways untouched by city light. I see him when I close my eyes.

  I see him because I want to see him.

  We walk two more blocks and then we finally find a spot, a preppy-looking bar with lots of twenty-something’s in line waiting to enter –waiting to pay an insane cover for an overcrowded bar and overpriced bar tab.

  This place looks so Seattle.

  There’s hardly room at the sleek bar but I take a seat at the far end and directly in the bartender’s line of vision. He is friendly enough and heavy pours my gin and tonic. I appreciate him for this, but not for his overly sympathetic smile.

  He’s spotted that I’m the third wheel.

  11:12 PM

  “To the start of a new tradition,” Travis says, handing out shots to us.

  “Here, here!” Trix shouts and I down what I hope will be the first in a long line of tequila shots.

  “This place is so wild. Like packed.” I say.

  “What did you expect? It’s New Year Eve and it’s New York City,” Travis laughs at me. “Of course it’s packed.”

  “Well, I like it,” Trix says, swinging her arm across my shoulders. “Think of all the new friends we can make.”

  “If you want me to meet new friends, I need to meet a few more tequilas first.” I smirk and push my empty shot glass forward.

  My third tequila shot finally starts to taste like salty water on my tongue. Trix laughs with her head back and arm swung around my shoulder. Everything is funny.

  This isn’t such a bad New Year’s Eve after all. Sure, it’s wildly different than ringing in the roaring 20s 2.0 version, but still it’s not so bad. Aside from the Corbel Finn clone restaurant, the Ramen, and seeing Brody get engaged. Aside from imaging Brooks everywhere I look. It’s not so bad. The sticky beer on the underside of my boots though –more than making up for it all.

  Signs everywhere seem to point to my broken romance with him.

  No. I push it from my mind.

  Don’t go there. Don’t even visit there.

  Signs aren’t real, not anymore.

  The universe isn’t on your side, Emmy. Get on with your life. As AAR would say, MOVE ALONG.

  Hey girl hey to Tequila Shot Four.

  11:52 PM

  We stand from the bar, Travis in the middle of us both. He flicks his lip ring with his tongue. I can’t stop looking at it. I wonder if the salt from the shot stings it.

  Trix moves us to the side of the bar against an exposed brick wall. The open rafters are decorated with lights and gold streamers. I’ve never actually been to a bar on New Year’s Eve before. Usually I’m home, or at a party or some foreign country with my parents. Or a Château.

  STOP.

  I fight the urge to pull out my phone. To try and cyber-stalk Brooks. I’m tempted to comment on Brody’s engagement pic just hoping Brooks might see it and start thinking of me tonight.

  But I remind myself that no matter how many signs I see of him tonight, I am NOT supposed to be with him.

  It doesn’t matter.

  Tequila Shot Five will fix it. Will fix me.

  “Trix, hold my phone!” I almost scream at her. My mouth is so close to her ear so she can hear me.

  “You got it.” She smiles and tucks it away in her bag. I’m a fully-grown adult-millennial who can’t be trusted. Life happens.

  “It’s almost time!” Trix squeals. “Let’s get another drink. Can’t go into the new year empty handed.”

  “I second that,” I say, nodding.

  Can’t help but think while I watch Travis take Trix’s hand I am empty handed. Sure, a drink will help. But I still won’t have a hand in mine.

  NYC is a big fucking place. My person could be here anywhere. Anywhere. Maybe he’s even here at this bar and it’s fate that I came out with Trix tonight. Could have been across the pond in London. Could have been back in Seattle. But I came out and my person could be here. Maybe I’ll keep running into them like you see in the movies until one day we just decide to stop leaving at the end of the night. Can’t help but think of Trevor, of how normal that relationship could have been.

  Or maybe he’s not at this party. Not in NYC. Not anywhere. Maybe he’s–

  I lose my voice.

  I think it’s because I’m choking on the tequila or the lime. They both go down the wrong pipe because my mind is too busy worrying about my person.

  Then I think it’s because Trix falls into me –knocking me off balance –laughing at something Travis just said.

  Or maybe it’s because of Travis’s face and the way his tongue ring catches the light from the rafters.

  No.

  It’s because I look at the door. It opened and flurries spiraled inside, dusting the coat rack by the door. It’s because three guys are walking into the bar just in time for the countdown. Three guys are walking into the bar and he’s in the middle.

  The bar is swarming with drunk, horny, obnoxious people but we only have eyes for each other, the magnets in them working without warning.

  My person could be here. Up yours, universe.

  I think I’m having a panic attack. Several things happen all at once: Trix gasps beside me. I almost drop my sociopathic tonic & gin. I forget everything that happened over the last year.

  And oh yeah, my legs start moving.

  I don’t remember telling my legs to move but I now find myself halfway around the bar. I stop just short of closing the gap between us.

  Fuck he can rock a flannel.

  “It’s you,” he says.

  “It’s you.” I answer.

  We stand there smiling like numb morons. I can only imagine what we look like to the people trying to enjoy their New Years shots. Fuck us. It’s been over six months but it feels like zero time has passed.

  I’m supposed to be better than this. I’m not supposed to fangirl. I’m not supposed to feel star struck.

  Can’t help but notice the lack of dumb blonde on his arm.

  Do I dare? Yes.

  “Where’s Lexi?” I say her name like I’m a 14 year-old leftover mean girl. He deserves it. But he looks over my shoulder –looks at Trix and Travis (both smiling idly) and just shrugs.

  “Wherever Trevor is,” he says, smirking. God I want that smirk. I bite my own lip because–

  I CAN’T STOP SMILING.

  11:58 PM

  “It will never work, Brooks.” It spills out like I’ve been waiting to
say this all along tonight.

  Man it’s easy to lie to yourself. It shouldn’t be this easy.

  “Never.” He shakes his head, smiling.

  “Glad we agree.” I nod, turning away from him. I can’t even look at him without my insides melting into putty.

  I need to get away.

  “You changed your hair.” Brooks calls after me.

  I stop in my tracks and spin to face him. I’m a goddamn moron.

  His fingers grip his hair and he hangs his head toward mine.

  “I did.”

  “It’s darker now.” He just watches my face, watches my soul swim inside me. Oh, guys, I have a soul again.

  “It is.” I nod.

  “Much shorter now.” Brooks’s tongue rests on his lower lip. “Will be harder to grab.”

  Fuck him. And fuck me. Literally and figuratively.

  Fuck him and his smile that makes me want to gauge out my eyes so I don’t have to see it again in the best possible way.

  It’s no use. I cross the five steps separating us in two long strides. He smiles at my eagerness.

  “It’ll grow.” I shrug.

  And then it happens. I’m thinking of a song or maybe it’s actually playing beneath the cheers of the crowd. I can’t hear anything, not even my own breathing.

  The bar erupts into a countdown.

  TEN

  NINE

  EIGHT

  Brooks laughs and I realize I can breathe again. I don’t know how I lasted six months holding my breath. He wraps his arms around my waist and pulls me into him. Smells of sea salt and bonfire roll over me. The Goo Goo Dolls are saying it all: Come to Me.

  SEVEN

  SIX

  “Emmy Lou,” he whispers.

  “Jay Brooks.” I bite my lip.

  FIVE

  FOUR

  We agree.

  THREE

  TWO

  ONE. MORE. TIME.

  About The Author

  KAT PACE

  Kat is an avid coffee drinker, beach enthusiast, and first-time author. She enjoys tanning, binging shows, and reading all things fiction. Always.

  Kat is currently developing several YA romance and fantasy series. To explore more content and get exclusives on upcoming projects, connect with Kat on Instagram (@authorkatpace) and Wattpad (PaceYurself).

  Kat resides in the Northeast, but is always in Florida weather at heart.