Resolutions

by Lucy Eden

  "Michael Christopher Duke, if you don't want to die right now, you should move that spoon."

  He withdrew the spoon, and I dug into the sundae forgetting about my resolution and temporarily forgetting about my pie. Fuck, that sundae was good. I didn't know if it was worth a thousand bucks, but I couldn't stop eating.

  "Damn, my whole name. I guess we're trading desserts?" He laughed. I didn't answer him, but I slid his sundae closer and continued to dig in. I slowed down halfway through and turned my attention to my hot chocolate and Mike's pie.

  “So what’s your plan for the rest of the list, because you’re off to a good start.” I grinned.

  “How do you feel about Italian?”

  “Ugh, I’m so full. I couldn’t eat another bite.”

  "No, Stel." He chuckled. "Italian the language. I signed us up for classes at The New York Language Institute. There weren't a ton of spots, and the choices were Mandarin, Russian, and Italian. I picked Italian because it has the same alphabet as English. The classes are three times a week, and we can start tonight. What do you think?"

  My heart swelled. It was the perfect idea and exactly what I would have chosen. Mike was an amazing friend, but I had to remember that that's all he was. He was with someone who was gorgeous, perfect, and wouldn't be caught in public with whipped cream on her nose or diving headfirst into an ice cream sundae. I'd bet Chellie had never tasted ice cream. She'd probably post a photo on Instagram with the caption: 1K sundae with my Pookie! #Sweettreats; ice cream emoji, dollar sign emoji, kissing emoji, before drinking water and watching the ice cream melt.

  “Hey, Daydream Believer. Italian class. You in?”

  I blinked and focused on Mike’s gorgeous face stretched with an expectant grin.

  “Sí.”

  Learn A New Skill

  three

  “So, is this the road trip?” I asked as we rounded another mountain highway curve in Mike’s Ford F-150. Very few people I knew that lived in Manhattan owned a car, even fewer drove a giant pick-up truck.

  "Nope. A couple of hours on the Taconic Parkway doesn't count as a road trip, but we are crossing two things off your list today." He reached out and turned down the radio on Khalid asking for our location.

  “Sono così emozionata.” Our first Italian class was two days ago, completely awesome.

  He chuckled. “I have no idea what you just said, teacher’s pet, but you’re gonna have fun today.” It even earned me a new nickname from Mike.

  "Are you sure I look okay? The only thing you said regarding a dress code was warm and comfortable." Warm and comfortable was actually my entire sartorial aesthetic, but I wasn't someone you'd exactly call stylish, and Mike refused to tell me where he was taking me or which resolutions we were tackling today.

  "You look beautiful." He caught my eye before refocusing on the road. My breath hitched in my chest, and I felt Mike graze my thigh as he reached for my hand. His fingers pressed into my palm as he squeezed my small hand into his big one, rubbing his thumb back and forth over the back of my hand. I turned to look at him, but he never took his eyes off of the highway. I returned his squeeze, and his lips twitched. Breathing became slow and labored. My flesh hummed with an electric current that I was sure Mike could feel. I tucked my bottom lip between my teeth and gazed out of the window.

  We were just holding hands. No harm in holding hands.

  When we pulled into the parking lot of a strip mall, Mike jumped out of the truck and ran over to my side to help me climb down before he led me into one of the stores.

  “Hey, Mike.” A man in his late twenties with a thin mustache and goatee approached, clasping Mike’s hand and pulling him into a hug. “What’s good, my dude? You home for Christmas?”

  “Nah, I’m just up for the day, but I’ll be back next week.”

  “So what brings you here?” He turned his gaze on me, dragging his eyes from my shoes, up my body, lingering on my breasts, and when our eyes finally met, he flashed me a smile that made me recoil slightly. Mike slid a protective arm around my waist.

  “She needs a pair of skates.”

  My head whipped up involuntarily to face him.

  Did he just say skates?

  I took in my surroundings. The walls were lined with hockey sticks, jerseys, pads, some other stuff I couldn’t identify and ice skates, lots of ice skates.

  Holy shit. He’s going to make me ice-skate.

  I tried to remember if break every bone in my body was one of my resolutions.

  “Jane, this is Eric March. We went to high school together. Eric, this is Jane, my girlfriend." My heart stopped for a second and my fear must have affected my hearing. I looked up at Mike again. He squeezed my waist and gave me a wink. Of course, he said that for Eric’s benefit and he didn't do a good job hiding his disappointment, and I understood why Mike did what he did. My poker face was better than Eric's as I had three years of practice.

  "Shoe size?" he muttered. I told him, and thirty minutes later I walked out of March's Hockey Shop as the proud and terrified owner of my first pair of ice skates. They must have cost a fortune and I offered to pay for them, but Mike wouldn’t let me.

  "Hey, are you sure this is safe?" I teetered forward like a toddler while he held both my hands walking backward.

  "Yes, it's safe." He led me to a tree where he released my hand. "Stay here. I'll prove it."

  Instead of taking me to an ice-skating rink, Mike pulled into the driveway of a big house with a lake behind it. We walked to the shore and sat on a nearby log where we put on our skates.

  Hugging the tree for dear life, while trying not to fall on my ass or my face, I watched Mike walk to the edge of the frozen water, step onto it and zoom around the rigid, shiny surface at top speed making giant loops and zigzags. Stopping at the far side of the lake, he skated towards me at top speed, and just when I thought he wouldn't be able to stop himself in time, he twisted his body sideways causing him to stop short and send up a sheet of snow shaved off of the surface. I knew Mike could skate but I had no idea he was this good.

  He stepped off of the ice and walked towards me, his nose and cheeks were pink, and his chest was rapidly rising and falling. He peeled my hands off of the tree trunk and began to slowly lead me towards the lake.

  “See?” He grinned down at me. “Perfectly safe.”

  "Show-off," I muttered, causing him to laugh. "So, this is…"

  "Number Fourteen: Learn a New Skill." He pulled me onto the ice and began to slowly lead me around, skating backward. His knees were slightly bent, and he alternated twisting his ankles causing us to glide, in contrast to my legs, which were pin straight and as rigid as the rest of my body. "Hey, Dream a Little Dream. Eyes on me.”

  It wasn’t until he said something that I realized I had been staring at the ice. I dragged my eyes up to meet his. His reassuring smile told me that I was safe and he wasn’t going to let anything bad happen. I returned his smile and let out a deep breath.

  "You okay?" he asked, and I nodded in return. "You're doing great." We continued to glide around the lake. "I'm sorry about the whole girlfriend thing in the shop.”

  He wasn’t as sorry as I was, but for different reasons.

  "No, it's totally fine. Eric was definitely giving off a creepy vibe. It was nice for him to think I had a giant boyfriend watching his every move, who was capable of curb-stomping him before he started touching my feet.”

  Mike tossed his head back laughing, and I joined him, feeling relaxed for the first time on the ice. It was short-lived.

  “Ready for your first lesson?” he asked and raised his eyebrows. My body tensed and my head nodded, but I wasn’t sure I’d meant it to. “Falling. It’s the most important thing to know how to do correctly.”

  “I’m sorry. Isn’t the whole point not falling,” I asked while gripping him tighter.

  He grinned and shook his head.

  "Falling is inevitable. It's the only way to learn, but you have to learn to protec
t yourself when you fall so you can get back up and keep going." He was still smiling as he spoke, but he was glossing over some major points.

  “Doesn’t falling hurt?”

  "The first couple of times, but every time it gets easier, and then after a while, you start to enjoy it." He winked at me. I rolled my eyes and shook my head. At some point during our trip around the lake, Mike's hands migrated to my hips and my hands were gripping his biceps, making us resemble a couple at a junior high school dance and I didn't think we were talking about skating anymore. My heart started beating fast and I needed to steer this conversation back to the ice.

  “Okay, you dirty old man.” I took a deep breath. “Teach me how to fall.”

  We spent the next forty-five minutes tumbling all over the lake. He was right. It hurt like a bitch the first few times, but after I got the hang of it, it did become fun. A little kid could spend the better part of an afternoon, getting up just to fall back down, and I was starting to see the appeal. Did we all know the proper mechanics of falling as kids and just forgot as we grew up?

  After I was awarded my gold star in losing my balance, I graduated to slowly gliding forward without Mike's support, shifting my weight to make wide loops, and finally, learning to stop. After two and a half hours of nonstop skating and falling, I was wet, sore, and freezing, so we called it a day.

  I sat on the log and Mike helped me into my boots, before putting his on. He tied up our skates and slung them over his shoulder, before hoisting me onto his other shoulder, like I was a doll.

  “What are you doing?” I squealed.

  “You said you were sore, and if you walked any slower on those tiny little hobbit legs, we would freeze to death before we got to the house.” He marched us away from the lake.

  “The house? That’s your house?”

  “What did you think, I just parked my truck in a random person’s driveway?”

  "I don't know. You've been known to do some pretty strange things, Captain." He set me down on my feet at the front door and rang the bell. "Why do you have to ring the bell? Whose house is this and what are we doing here?"

  “I told you,” he whispered quickly. “We’re checking two things off of your list today.” The door was swept open by an older, beautiful, brunette woman with warm brown eyes that looked incredibly familiar.

  “Mikey!” she screamed.

  “Hey, Mom.”

  Meet New People

  four

  “You two get in here before you freeze.” Mike’s mom shooed us inside and shut the door. “I just made some hot chocolate. I’ll grab some mugs and blankets.” She left us in the foyer.

  “Mike, what are you doing?” I hissed as I peeled myself out of my wet coat and pulled off my boots. I embraced the blast of heat from the radiator but my body shook anyway. Mike wrapped his hands around my shoulder and began rubbing warmth into my arms and shoulders. “Why are we at your parents’ house?”

  "Number Six: Meet New People, but with a twist. I've been telling you about my family for three years, and I've been telling them about you for three years. You, sort of, already know each other, but you haven't met. It's like playing Call of Duty with cheat codes, and you already know Steph." He bopped my nose with his finger. "Damn, Stella, you are freezing. Come on." He slipped my hand into his, and I tried to ignore how right it felt as he led me into his family's large kitchen. I was failing miserably.

  "There she is," a male voice boomed, and I turned to see what looked like Mike's older and more distinguished twin stirring a pot of sauce. "We were starting to think you were a figment of Mikey's imagination."

  “Ha. Ha,” Mike deadpanned. “Jane, this is my dad, Chris. Dad, this is my very real friend, Jane.” I shook his dad’s hand. “And you’ve met my mom, Anna.” She beamed a smile at us while filling five steaming mugs. “And somewhere around here is Stephanie.”

  Mike’s younger sister chose that moment to come strolling into the kitchen. She was wearing purple leggings and the Nude Party concert t-shirt she got the night I met her over the summer.

  “See? I told you she was real.” She laughed and pulled me into a hug. “Jesus Christ, girl, you are soaked. Mike, you asshole.” She punched him in the bicep.

  “Hey! Language, young lady,” Anna warned her.

  “Mike, you asswipe,” Steph corrected herself.

  "Much better." Anna nodded her approval, and we all laughed.

  Steph turned to me. “Come with me. I’ll get you something dry to put on. I think we’re the same size.”

  When we got to her room, she handed me a stack of warm, dry clothes and pointed me to her bathroom where I took a quick but soothing shower, got dressed, and rejoined Mike's family in the kitchen, but Mike was nowhere to be seen.

  I slid onto a barstool at the counter and wrapped my hands around the mug Anna set in front of me.

  “Extra marshmallows, right?” She smiled. I nodded, feeling myself flush slightly. How much had Mike told them about me? “I have to say it is so nice to put a face to the name. Mikey talks about you all the time.”

  “He talks about you guys all the time, too.”

  “All good things, I hope,” his dad chuckled.

  “Yup,” Mike’s voice called from behind me as he reentered the kitchen. “But it’s all lies. I didn’t want to scare her.” His fingers grazed my back, giving me shivers that had nothing to do with being cold, as he passed me to settle himself on the stool beside me. The smell of soap, cedar, and sandalwood filled my nose and I knew Mike must have taken a shower too.

  “Feel better?” He smiled at me.

  “I’m still sore, but yeah.”

  He leaned into me and whispered, “Yeah, you’re usually sore after your first time, but trust me, it gets better the more you practice.”

  After eating the amazing lunch his parents cooked, Mike’s family and I played a few rounds of Scrabble and watched Planes, Trains, and Automobiles, during which Mike put his arm around me, and I fell asleep on his shoulder.

  “I thought we already checked off two resolutions today.”

  We were back in Mike’s truck but apparently not on our way to the city.

  “Not quite, Stella, and you wrote meet new people, plural. You're a teacher. You should know better.” He winked as he pulled into the parking lot of another strip mall and parked in front of a pub.

  “Ugh. A crowded bar? I don’t know if I’m up to this.”

  "Trust me. You're gonna have fun and the instant you're not, just say the word, and we bail. Deal?" He wore the same expression he had on the ice as he was leading me around by my hips, and I knew I could trust him.

  “Deal.”

  We walked towards the bar, and when I was close enough to read the sign, I stopped short and turned to Mike, my face split with an excited grin. He hit me with his I told you so face.

  "Welcome to Wednesday Night Trivia at O'Malley's!" the host bellowed into a microphone as we grabbed an answer sheet and squeezed into a nearby table.

  “What should our team name be?” His lips grazed the shell of my ear as he leaned in close to whisper. Was he flirting with me or was I reading too much into this? Whatever it was, I liked it, so I chose to ignore the nagging feeling in my belly. I reached up, cupped the sides of his face to pull him down to me so I could whisper my reply, and he laughed. “Perfect.”

  As expected, Mike and I dominated trivia night. He covered the music and sports categories. I swept the history and literature rounds. We both shredded the pop culture and general knowledge questions. I even managed to strike up a couple of conversations with actual strangers and met another elementary school teacher. We traded contact information and planned to meet for lunch in the city next week.

  Three hours after we walked into O’Malley’s, The Knights Who Say Ni were crowned Trivia Night Champions and Mike celebrated by buying shots for everyone in the bar except himself. I turned to face him. I felt my eyes prickling with tears, and I couldn’t stop grinning. My eyes sea
rched his as I tried to find words to express how much this day meant to me, but I was speechless. He brushed my cheek with his thumb, and as if he was reading my mind again, he said, "You're welcome."

  It was almost midnight when we got back to Mike's parents’ house where we agreed it was too late to drive back to the city. Stephanie lent me some pajamas. Anna gave me a toothbrush and put me in a guest room. I washed my face and brushed my teeth before climbing into the giant plushy bed and snuggling under the covers. I didn't want to seem ungrateful for Mike's generosity, but the more time I spent with him like this, the more it hurt. I'd missed my chance to be with him, and though I hoped we'd always be friends, I knew it would never be enough for me.

  “Hey, Sweet Dreams. You okay?” Mike was leaning on the doorjamb, filling the doorway and my inappropriate thoughts, with his arms crossed, wearing a t-shirt and a pair of shorts. “I came to check on you. You good?”

  “Yeah. This bed is so comfortable.” I chuckled and fluffed the goose down duvet.

  “Really?” He pushed himself off the doorframe and walked into the room, seating himself on the edge of the bed and bouncing. “Nice.” He stretched out the word and nodded appreciatively. “I think my parents like you more than they like me because my bed does not feel like this.”

  "Well, I've had a good day, and I'm feeling generous." I peeled back the duvet and patted the spot next to me on the king-sized mattress.

  Mike raised his eyebrows and looked at me. “Are you sure?”

  My inner voice told me this was a bad idea, but I told her to mind her own business. This was a day full of touches and stolen moments. Mike and I hadn’t crossed a line, not physically at least. I couldn’t stop thinking about how good it felt to hold his hand in the truck, to be led around the lake with Mike’s hands on my waist, and falling asleep in his arms in front of the TV. What was one more thing to feel guilty about?