New Year's Kiss

by Lee Matthews

  Today I was going to get started on my list. And as soon as humanly possible. I had four days to do ten things I not only had never done, but never thought I would do. The very idea was daunting, but I was one hundred percent determined. In my entire life, I had never made a list that I didn’t complete. I shoved aside the blankets and went straight for the shower. The list, in all its laminated glory, was in the center of the desk, and I gave it a little tap as I walked past it. Right next to it was Loretta’s calendar of scheduled events, but luckily there wasn’t anything mandatory until some pasta dinner tonight. Hopefully I’d have a couple of items checked off by then.

  As the hot water streamed over my thirsty skin, I tried to wrap my brain around where to start but realized I couldn’t even begin to decide without Christopher. This was as much his project as it was mine. I never would have even thought of doing it if not for him, and I had a feeling he was as excited about it as I was.

  I couldn’t stop thinking about the smile on his face when I’d told him my Pre–New Year’s Resolution plan. Or the way he’d smelled when I’d, well, fallen on top of him. Or how close his mouth had been to mine for those few seconds on the couch.

  Standing under the stream of hot water, I blushed, then giggled, and then suddenly I was just laughing like a crazy person. This was so not the way I’d ever thought this week was going to go. A few days ago, I felt like I was being exiled from home. Now I was happy—if not excited—to be here. I shut the water off and forced myself to stop giggling. It was time to get started on my day.

  Unbelievably, neither the shower, nor twenty minutes of blow-drying my hair—after which it still wasn’t entirely dry—woke up my sister. Neither did getting dressed or shoving all of my stuff into my backpack—for what, I wasn’t sure, but I wanted to be prepared for wherever the day took me. Standing near the still-curtained window, I pulled my half-damp hair back in a bun, and a little thrill went through me at the thought of number eight on the list. If—no, when—I cut all my hair off, I’d never have to leave the house with wet hair again. Unless I wanted to. I snorted a laugh as I left the room, closing the door quietly behind me.

  Ever since I was in eighth grade, my mother had been all over me to get a short haircut, like Emma Watson’s post–Harry Potter chop, but I had always resisted. Mostly because I didn’t think I was nearly pretty enough to pull it off, and partially because I was scared. Scared it would look bad. Scared of being teased. Scared people would think I thought I was prettier than I was.

  If you don’t like it, you can grow it out again, my mother always said.

  But my mother wasn’t the one who was going to have to live with it in the meantime. To deal with all the stares at school and people whispering, “What was she thinking?” But now, I felt ready. Sort of. Maybe? Being away from home was definitely part of it. I felt a little bit like a different person here. Or at least I felt like a different person from the person I was yesterday. I could only imagine the look my mom would give me when I stepped off the plane with short hair. She would probably be shocked—and disappointed I did it without her. But then my mom shouldn’t have shipped me off for winter break if she wanted to be around for these things.

  I took the elevator to the lobby and strode over to the couches by the fireplace to find Christopher, but Christopher wasn’t there. Sitting on what I thought of as his couch were two random middle-aged parents with a pair of toddlers crawling all over them.

  I must have frozen up, because they both looked at me as if maybe I was an ax murderer come to take out the whole family. It was just so weird, not seeing Christopher there. As if he lived there. Which was ridiculous. Christopher was on vacation, just like me and Lauren. Which raised the question…where did he live?

  “Looking for something?” the mom asked finally. Probably she was wondering why I was standing there with my mouth hanging slightly open.

  “No, I just—”

  “Your buddy Christopher is in the gym,” Tarek told me as he walked by, pushing a cart full of luggage. He gave me a wink, and never stopped moving.

  Okay, (1) How did Tarek know Christopher? (2) How did Tarek know Christopher was my “buddy”? And (3) What the hell was Christopher doing in the gym? Didn’t he know he was injured?

  There was nothing for me to do but go find out.

  * * *

  • • •

  Down the long hall and across the courtyard, I finally found the gym—a spot in the resort that I had never bothered to check out myself. I wasn’t exactly an athlete, and if I did exercise, I’d do it on my bike or by going hiking with my dad—not lifting weights or doing time on an elliptical trainer. The whole place smelled like sweat and ammonia, and it made my nose wrinkle. There were only a few people inside the mirrored room, working out on treadmills and bikes, and at first I didn’t see Christopher. But then I heard a set of weights clank, and I moved toward the sound. It had come from a free weight area in the back corner of the room.

  What I saw there made me stop in my tracks. It made me stop breathing. Christopher was in his wheelchair, shirtless, working the biceps of his left arm with a rather large weight. At first, all I could look at were his muscles straining, the sheen of sweat across his rather cut chest. This guy couldn’t be more perfect-looking if he tried. It was possible that I was developing more than a little crush. A medium-to-large–sized crush, if you will.

  But then I noticed the wheelchair rocking slightly as he moved, his cast shifting back and forth in the elevated leg rest, and I snapped out of my daze of attraction.

  “What the hell are you doing?” I demanded.

  He looked up, startled, and caught my eyes in the mirror. As soon as he recognized it was me, he smiled. Which, I’ll admit, felt damn good.

  “Good morning to you, too.”

  “You’re going to hurt yourself.”

  “The doctor said it was okay as long as I only worked my arms,” he said, putting the weight back on its rack. “And I’ve gotta stay in shape for spring ball.”

  I somehow held back a groan. Jocks. Couldn’t live with ’em, couldn’t get ’em to relax for five seconds.

  “I have a surprise for you,” he said.

  My chest tingled, and I was momentarily distracted by the unfamiliar feeling. “You do?”

  He wheeled himself over to a gym bag near the wall and plucked a sheet of green paper from inside. It was a bit crumpled, and he attempted to flatten it with his hands before holding it out to me, which only resulted in sweat stains across the black print.

  “Fifteenth Annual Evergreen Lodge Holiday Karaoke Party,” I read. The words Sing in Public swam across my mind’s eye. Why had I agreed to do any of this, again?

  “It’s tonight in the Pinecone Lounge. What’re the chances?” Christopher said. “You have about ten hours to figure out what you’re going to sing.” He took out a white towel and wiped the sweat from his brow. “And I figured you could wear heels while you do it. Kill two birds with one stone.”

  Wow. He’d really put a lot of thought into this. I was flattered. But putting aside the sheer terror I felt at the very idea of singing in public, let alone the cluelessness over what song would embarrass me the least, there was still just one problem.

  “Ummm…I don’t actually own a pair of heels.”

  “You don’t?” He glanced down at my feet, as if a pair of heels would suddenly appear on them. Unfortunately, I was wearing my favorite pair of high-top Converse. Just about as far away from Louboutins as you could get.

  “If I did, don’t you think I would have worn them by now, thereby precluding me from putting Wear high heels on my list?” I snapped the list out of my backpack and held it up.

  Christopher laughed. “All right, don’t take my head off, Type A. It was an innocent question.”

  “I’m five foot ten,” I tell him. “High heels always seemed…I don�
�t know…unnecessary. And the one time my mom made me try them on for my cousin’s wedding, I felt like a freak show. I had to beg her to let me wear flats until she finally relented.”

  “Wait. You’re five ten?” he asked, blanching slightly as he gazed up at me.

  “Yeah, why?” I looked him up and down, realizing I’d never actually seen him standing up straight. Since we’d met, he’d either been sitting on a couch, sitting in a wheelchair, or hunched over crutches. “How tall are you?”

  “Oh, um…I don’t really pay attention to that stuff.”

  “Yeah, right. A basketball player who doesn’t know how tall he is? Why do I not believe that?” I joked.

  “Whatever. Let’s just figure out this heel problem,” he said, shoving his towel back in his bag and pulling out a T-shirt. I let it die, because clearly it was a sore subject, but now I couldn’t help trying to size him up with my eyes. When he glanced up at me again, it was with a shrewd gaze, as if he knew what I was doing, so I quickly looked away.

  “Maybe you can borrow a pair from your sister?” he suggested.

  I shook my head. “Lauren’s feet are two sizes smaller than mine,” I told him, trying not to be self-conscious about it. “I’m going to need to go shopping.”

  “I guess we could go into town. We have plenty of time,” Christopher said. “Do you drive?”

  “We can’t get our license in Pennsylvania until we’re seventeen,” I said. “I just got my permit in October.”

  “Where’re you from in Pennsylvania?” he asked, sounding intrigued.

  “Philly. Why? Where do you live?”

  “Princeton,” he replied. “So, not that far from you.” We smiled at each other, and my skin warmed. Was he implying that he wouldn’t mind seeing me once this ridiculous trip was over and we were both back home? Suddenly I was imagining introducing him to my friends. Taking him to the prom. Making everyone I’d ever met swoon with jealousy.

  Okay, Tess. Chill.

  “What about Lauren?” he asked.

  “Yep. She can drive.” I pulled out my phone and started a text, glad to have an excuse to stop fantasizing. “And luckily, she’ll take pretty much any excuse to go shopping.”

  * * *

  • • •

  Christopher went back to his room to wrap his cast in plastic and take a shower, while I went in search of my dear sister. She was no longer in our room, having left her bedsheets in a tangle and four separate, very wet towels on the floor of the bathroom. Who the heck needed four towels? And was she really unaware that there were two empty towel bars right there for her use? I carefully hung up the damp towels and let the door lock behind me. After checking the restaurant and the gift shop, I was hit with the strong scent of fresh coffee and rolled my eyes. Right. The Best Bean Café. I’d almost spaced on Lauren’s caffeine addiction.

  Sure enough, I found my sister sitting at the window counter in the sun, her sunglasses on, her hair perfectly blow-dried, looking utterly glam as she sipped a latte and flipped through some kind of feed on her phone. A pair of college-aged guys at the counter were blatantly checking her out and kept nudging each other and laughing. I shot them a withering look, which neither seemed to notice as I stepped over to the register.

  “Good morning!” The guy behind the counter was about my age with a healthy tan and long brown hair he wore back in a low ponytail. He was wearing one of the green Evergreen Lodge polo shirts with a Best Bean Café apron over it. His smile was like something out of a toothpaste commercial. “What can I get for ya?”

  “Can I have a latte, please?” I asked, keeping one eye on my sister to make sure she didn’t get away.

  “Coming right up. Name?”

  “Tess,” I said, and he wrote it on a paper cup.

  “Great name! Like Tess of the D’Urbervilles,” he told me. “I’m Damon.”

  “Have you read Tess of the D’Urbervilles?” I asked, surprised.

  “I tried. Bored the crap outta me, though.”

  I laughed. “Well, at least you tried.”

  “Thanks. Your order will be up in a minute at the pickup counter.” He gestured in that direction. “Nice to meet you, Tess.”

  “You too,” I said warmly, feeling kind of proud of myself for not getting tongue-tangled in front of a cute boy.

  I grabbed my coffee, added some sugar, and then walked over and slid onto the stool next to Lauren’s.

  “Good morning!”

  “Ugh. Do you have to be so loud?” Lauren grumbled, taking a sip of her coffee.

  “I’m not being loud. I’m speaking at a perfectly normal volume.”

  Lauren pressed her lips together. “Normal to you.”

  Oooookay. Someone wasn’t in the best mood. “Did you not sleep well?” I asked, tossing my backpack under the chair and taking a sip of my drink.

  “I was up late texting with Tarek.” Only when she said Tarek’s name did a wisp of a smile appear on her face.

  “Oh. That’s cool.” It looked like I wasn’t the only one with a medium-to-large-sized crush. “He seems nice,” I said, buttering her up. Always the best policy if I was about to ask for a favor.

  “He is. Very.” Lauren looked out the window, and I couldn’t tell if she was thinking about Tarek or trying to be mysterious and aloof in order to appear cooler. It was weird how I could live with my sister my whole life and still not get her at all sometimes.

  “He’s in college, you know. He goes to Bennington.” She sipped her coffee again. “He’s just working here over break, and he said he’s hoping to travel this summer. How cool is that? We could potentially go to Europe together.”

  Unbelievable. Only my sister could work someone she met two days ago into her summer plans and think it was realistic. But then again, I was just thinking about looking up the train schedules between Philadelphia and Princeton, so who was I to judge?

  “So, what’re you doing today?” I swung my legs back and forth under my stool, feeling a mix of excitement, adrenaline, and total dread that my sister was going to turn me down cold. A solid prediction, since Lauren was now eyeing me skeptically over the top of her sunglasses.

  “Whatever Loretta tells me to, I thought. She already texted me to see if I felt any better and ask if I’d taken my temperature, so I had to deal with that debacle. I told her it was a false alarm and I felt way better after a good night’s sleep. Old people love a good night’s sleep.” She rolled her eyes. “Why? What did you have in mind?”

  “There’s nothing on Loretta’s schedule until tonight. I double-checked.”

  “Why am I not surprised?” She sat up straight, stretched, then leaned back against the counter behind her, all casual. “So, spill, little sis. What’s up?”

  “I need you to drive me into town.” I held my breath.

  She didn’t blink. “In what car?”

  “We could borrow one from the resort. They have all those cars for taking people to parties off property and stuff. I’m sure Loretta would let us take one.”

  Lauren pushed her sunglasses back up with the tip of her middle finger. “Do you even hear yourself? Loretta’s not letting us do anything other than what’s on her schedule. If you want to take a car, we’re going to have to ‘borrow’ one with the help of some kindly member of the staff.” She threw air quotes around the word borrow.

  “Okay, fine,” I said. “We’ll do that.”

  “Wait a minute, wait a minute.” Lauren threw up her palms. “That would be breaking the rules, Tess. You do realize that, right?”

  My face burned. “God, Lauren, can you give me a break? It’s not like I always follow the rules.”

  “Name me one time you didn’t,” Lauren said.

  “Oh, I don’t know…maybe fifth grade when I snuck out to that skateboarding competition Mom forbid me to compete in and broke
my freaking ankle?”

  Lauren scoffed. She scoffed. My cheeks burned in indignation. “I’m sorry, but you can’t keep going back to that well for the rest of your life. It was six years ago! And it wasn’t even that bad!”

  “I was in the hospital for an entire day!”

  “I meant that the sneaking out wasn’t that bad, not that the injury wasn’t that bad,” Lauren said. She slid her phone into her pocket and picked up her coffee, getting ready to leave.

  “Fine, if I’m so lame then help a girl out. Help me break the rules. Let’s ‘borrow’ a car and go into town.” I stood up and picked up my bag. “I bet Tarek would help us. You could talk him into it no problem.”

  Lauren hung her head back dramatically for half a second, but then turned to face me. “First of all, obviously I can talk him into it no problem. Second of all…why do you need to go into town?”

  “I need a new pair of shoes.” I took a deep breath. “I want you to help me buy a pair of heels.”

  I mumbled the last few words, but that didn’t stop Lauren’s face from completely lighting up. “No. Freaking. Way!”

  “It’s not that big a deal,” I said under my breath.

  “Are you kidding? This is a huge deal!” she cried loudly. “My baby sister’s all grown up!”

  A few people at nearby café tables turned to look at us, some of them amused, others obviously feeling my pain.

  “Shhhh!” I hissed. Damon was walking by, without his apron now, clearly having finished his shift. He shot me a pitying glance, but was also trying not to laugh. “You’re embarrassing me.” My phone vibrated in my hand. A text from Christopher.

  Ready to go. In lobby. Where are you guys?

  I quickly texted back.

  Best Bean

  “I don’t know, T,” Lauren said, glancing at her wrist, even though she never wore a watch. “I have some serious Netflix binging to do. What’s in it for me?”