by J. M. Paul
“This is so exciting!” Carly clapped her hands together.
Earlier, we had arrived at our destination in Queens sometime after dark.
Bax’s friend, Krit, had moved out here a few years ago and had offered to let us crash at his studio apartment. Krit’s roommate was away for the weekend, and there was just enough space for the four of us to intrude. It was a nice way to save money, but the arrangements didn’t allow for privacy. Our sleeping bags were strewed across Krit’s small living room floor, which meant we would basically be sleeping in each other’s faces. My personal boundaries would definitely be tested.
Once we had unloaded our belongings into Krit’s apartment, we had been too pumped to sleep and had decided to head into the city to experience the nightlife. Milo had been itching to fill everyone with alcohol, so he could pull out our dirty secrets, and Krit had decided to tag along.
Unbeknownst to Milo, I didn’t drink. Letting my guard down and losing control wasn’t something I could afford to do. But I had a feeling the night would provide excellent entertainment.
Krit, who was a beast—tall, all muscles, and covered in tattoos—swung the subway door open for us and ushered us out onto the street. It was as if we’d stepped into another world. The underpass had been busy, but Times Square was insane.
I worked my way onto the crowded sidewalk, lifted my head, and tried to take everything in at once. There was so much commotion, noise, and bustle that not one aspect could register fully. The experience blurred in a mirage of flashes. Blinking lights, billboards, voices, blaring horns, squealing tires, moving bodies, and footfall.
Everything was so…big and vibrant.
My hands itched to pull my camera out and photograph everything, anything, but we were on the move to a bar Krit had recommended. Sating my need, I retrieved my phone from my pocket and snapped several in-motion shots. I wanted to document the fact that I had been a part of something so grand.
Our group stumbled through the throngs of people and traffic as Krit led us down the sidewalks with a few turns down city blocks. My peers talked among themselves while I hung behind and took in the feel and smell of the city.
I found peace in the chaos. There was no doubt I could fade into the background of this pulsating atmosphere. One small ant among a colony of millions would never be notable. Only having been in the city for maybe thirty minutes, I could already feel this place seeping into my pores. It was somewhere I would love to call home.
We were away from the lights and motion of downtown but still on a busy street. A cop car, closely followed by an ambulance, worked through the traffic on the narrow lanes with their lights flashing and sirens blaring. The scene would provide a lovely action shot that only New York could provide.
Too busy observing the glinting beams as they bounced off the surrounding buildings, I crashed into a hard body.
I mumbled a, “Sorry,” to Krit and studied the tucked away gem that was our destination.
The subway vibrated beneath my feet as we stood in line and waited for our turn with the bouncer whose build was intimidating. Mr. Bouncer stood at the entrance to the fenced outdoor seating area of the bar and examined everyone’s IDs.
Krit super-puffed his cigarette, trying to inhale the entire thing before we entered the nonsmoking establishment. He released a cloud of gray smoke that floated into the air like a ghost.
“You want a hit?” Blonde hair flapping in the breeze, Krit held the glowing red stick toward Bax.
Bax shook his head. “Nah, man. That shit will kill ya. I quit that nasty habit almost as quickly as I’d started.”
A group of twenty-somethings exited the bar’s entrance, drawing my attention to the lit sign above the door—Thr3e Wise woMen. I chuckled at the clever name.
“You’re thinking about dirty words, aren’t you?” Milo said with a jeering tilt to his mouth.
“Yep, you caught me.” I rolled my eyes.
“I’ll have you swearing like a sailor by the end of this trip, so you might as well give in now, GTS.” Milo leaned closer, and I took a step back.
“GTS?” I pulled my black zip-up hoodie tighter. The late spring air was starting to turn chilly.
“Goody Two-shoes.” Milo smirked.
“IDs,” barked Mr. Bouncer before I could address Milo’s smart-aleck remark.
I narrowed my eyes at Milo, and before I handed my license over, the hair on my forearms prickled as the sensation of being watched wrapped around me. Glancing over my shoulder toward the street, I didn’t see anyone, except for Bax studying me as he laughed at something Krit had said and more anxious patrons waiting behind them.
When we were allowed to pass Go, I shook off the feeling and walked through the small outdoor seating area and up two steps into the open door.
The intimate space was crowded for a Thursday night but not overly so. A long bar stretched out before us and was the first object customers saw the moment they walked inside. The main portion of the space was open with several tables, and there was a small stage pushed against the wall. A redheaded girl, who looked to be wasted, swayed on the platform. She slurred into a microphone as she read poetry from a crinkled white piece of paper in her hand.
“Nice, muchacho!” Milo yelled to Krit over a group of guys laughing too loudly next to us.
Krit jerked his head toward the back of the bar and led us up a few stairs to the back. It was much quieter and held less people.
We grabbed the last table in the middle of the small room. There were only four chairs, so Bax strolled over to a table of three females and spoke quietly to them. The overly done-up girls giggled, batted their lashes, and pulled their already low-cut shirts lower. Bax leaned down and whispered something into the brunette’s ear, and I could actually see her sigh.
Get a grip, ladies.
Something foreign started gnawing the inside of my stomach, causing me to shift in my chair. When I turned, I caught Krit’s focus trained on me.
“He’s good, isn’t he?” Krit indicated Bax’s finagling with his chin.
Heat crept up my neck and into my cheeks at getting caught staring, but I couldn’t bring myself to stop watching Bax.
With a flash of his pearly whites and a wink, Bax grabbed the extra chair and headed in our direction with a cocky smirk.
Yes, he’s very good.
Krit and I shifted over when Bax slid the seat between us and sat at the corner of the table, looking satisfied.
“Find yourself a warm place to sink into tonight?” Krit elbowed Bax in the arm.
Bax scowled at him, but before he could answer a, “What would you like to drink?” interrupted him.
A beautiful purple-haired waitress stood and eyed Bax, Krit, and Milo while ignoring me and Carly. I couldn’t blame her. The testosterone sitting in our presence was wrapped in sexy packaging.
“A round of shots.” Milo spun his finger in the air. “Make it tequila.”
Everyone groaned.
“That’s right, bitches. We’re getting drunk and dirty tonight.” Milo hooted.
“Anything else?” Purple Hair asked.
“Jack and Coke,” Bax said.
“Double Jack and Coke.” Krit one-upped Bax.
Carly slapped the drink menu closed. “Frozen cosmo.”
“Those are pretty potent,” Purple Hair warned.
“Bring it on.” Carly grinned.
“Keep the tequila coming for me,” Milo answered.
“Miss?” The waitress regarded me.
The entire table had their eyes aimed in my direction.
“Um, a Coke, please. And no shot of tequila for me.” My voice was barely a whisper over the noise around us.
“I’ll take her shot,” Milo belted out. When the waitress left, he faced me. “You’re not drinking, GTS?”
That nickname was going to tick me off. “No.”
“You don’t swear, and you don’t drink, so what the hell do you do, chica?”
I don’t
drink because I can’t ever lose control.
I shrugged.
“Lo que sea.” Milo flicked his hand. “Your loss.”
As we waited for our drinks, we asked Krit where we should venture to tomorrow to take pictures of the city. The Statue of Liberty, the Empire State Building, and the National September 11 Memorial were the top three tourist attractions on our list.
The waitress delivered our beverages with a wink for the boys.
After the group downed their shots, Milo eyed each of us. “Okay, enough shop talk. It’s time for a drinking game to really get to know each other.”
Carly beamed a wide smile. “Let’s play Never Have I Ever!”
“What the fuck is that?” Krit scrunched his nose.
“Someone says something they’ve never done, and whoever has done it has to take a drink.” Carly scooted closer to the table. “I’ll start. Let’s see…” She tapped her pointer finger against her chin. “I know! Never have I ever kissed a girl.”
Milo and Bax lifted their drinks and took a sip.
“Haven’t you kissed a girl, Krit?” Carly asked.
“Hell yeah.”
“Then, take a drink.” Bax shoved Krit’s glass closer to him.
“Ah, I gotcha.” Krit nodded and gulped his double Jack and Coke.
“I’m next,” Milo piped up. “Never have I ever given a blow job.”
“Oh God. I can see where this game is going to go.” Carly shook her head.
Carly, Krit, and I lifted our drinks.
We all raised our eyebrows in Krit’s direction.
“Um, do you not understand the game, amigo?” Milo asked him.
“I do.” Krit shrugged, a saucy smirk quirking his lips.
There was a round of confused expressions at the table.
“I thought you were straight, muchacho?” Milo scratched his ear.
“I am.” Krit’s face was impassive, not giving anything away.
“You going to explain, bro?” Bax’s words took on a perplexed tone.
“Nope.” Krit sat with a stoic expression, unwilling to indulge our curiosity.
“Okay then.” Bax shifted and gestured toward me. “You’re next, Libby.”
I cleared my throat. The direction of the game was making me uncomfortable, so I veered it down another path. “Never have I ever failed a class.”
“GTS,” Milo mumbled.
Krit lifted his glass. “I hate school.”
“All right, my turn.” Bax looked up at the ceiling and scratched his chin. “Never have I ever had to run to save my life.”
No one’s hand even twitched to pick up their beverage. I didn’t want to expose too much to my peers, but there was a tickling in my skull that sounded exactly like my mom’s voice.
“Don’t lie, Peanut. The truth will set you free.”
Going with the mentality that Mom always knew best, I picked up my Coke and took a small sip. Again, everyone’s attention was pointed at me, expectant. This game would prove to kill me. I thought we were supposed to just drink, not explain.
Maybe I like the improper digging better.
“In a sense, this trip is me running for my life,” I expounded. “We all eventually have to save ourselves from something. And, no, I’m not discussing it in more detail.” I plopped my drink down rather abruptly and leaned back in my chair, closing the subject.
Music suddenly blared from the front of the bar, indicating the open mic night must have concluded. Bax and Krit studied me while Carly and Milo eyed each other.
Krit cleared his throat to attract my attention, and I noticed understanding written there.
Hmm…maybe I’m the only one who feels obligated to tell the truth among this group.
“Never have I ever…shit, this game sucks, guys. I’ve pretty much done everything.” Krit smirked, and we all laughed. “I’ve got it. Never have I ever fucked an animal.” Krit slid his eyes around the table. “I’m adventurous, but I have to draw the line somewhere.”
We all blinked at the other, not sure where to take the game after that.
When Purple Hair approached, we ordered another round. After the alcohol was delivered for everyone, except for me, Carly jumped back into playing the game.
“Never have I ever had a threesome,” Carly said.
Krit and Bax lifted their glasses.
“Dudes”—Milo’s mouth dropped open—“together or separate?”
I was intrigued to hear the answer.
“Both.” The side of Krit’s mouth quirked.
“No way.” Milo’s eyes bounced back and forth between the two guys.
“Unfortunately.” Bax glowered at Krit.
Milo pointed at Bax but spoke to Krit, “Is he the BJ?”
“No,” Bax sputtered. “Hell. No.”
Milo scrutinized both guys, as if he wasn’t sure they were telling the truth.
“It’s your turn, Milo,” Bax growled, closing the subject before it went any further.
“We’re playing this game to get to know each other. You can’t throw something like that out there and not explain, chicos.” Milo sat back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest.
“Either go, or it’s Libby’s turn,” Bax grumbled.
“Never have I ever had sex in front of a crowd,” Milo finally said.
Krit sipped his Jack and Coke. “I dated an exhibitionist for a while. Crazy girl.”
Maybe he really had done everything. This game was allowing us to learn more than I wanted to know about Krit but not the people I was traveling with for the next three months.
“Never have I ever cheated on a test.” I knew Milo would think it was a Goody Two-shoes question, but a lot could be learned about someone from their answer. If they’d cheated on something as simple as a test, who was to say they wouldn’t cheat on something that was enormously important?
Milo and Krit raised their glasses.
Bax was next. “Never have I ever been in love.”
A pang of hurt and longing stabbed my heart at the thought of Jarrod. Our love had been young and innocent, but it had also been genuine, overwhelming, and devastating. I reached for the necklace around my neck, but once again, I found it missing. I had to fight the moisture that wanted to build in my eyes at the memory of my lost adoration.
I lifted my soda and looked around the table. No one else raised their beverage. After I took a small sip, I set my glass down and crossed my legs.
“I thought you didn’t date.” Carly was referring to a conversation we’d had at the beginning of our trip.
“I don’t,” I said softly.
“Then, how…” Carly indicated the drink in front of me that told her something different.
Voices hummed around us. The bass from the music was pumping in the other room, and a chair scraped across the floor. And everyone at the table was still staring at me.
I exhaled in annoyance. “I was in a serious relationship with a childhood friend several years ago.”
“Love scorned?” Carly asked.
I shrugged. “Something like that.”
It hadn’t been anything like that. Jarrod was perfect and had only ever worshipped me and treated me like a princess. It was more that I was scorned by death and what its selfish nature had taken away from me.
The game continued for a few more rounds until Carly and Krit were too buzzed to play. We decided to call it a night and head back to the apartment to prepare for our long day of sightseeing tomorrow.
For the last two days, we had been traipsing all over New York and photographing everything from the disappointing Statue of Liberty—she was much smaller than stories had claimed—to the bird’s-eye view from the Empire State Building, then we visited the Brooklyn Bridge, the statue of Atlas at Rockefeller Center, Central Park, Times Square, Grand Central Station to a sunset from the High Line to busy street scenes, abandoned alleys, and New Yorkers in all their impatience.
I’d instantly fallen in love with the B
ig Apple the minute we exited the subway onto the glittering spectacle of Times Square on our first night, but every incident since then had made me worship the atmosphere.
New York was said to be the city that never slept, but after my short encounter, I didn’t think it even got tired. At all times of the day, brakes were grinding, horns were blaring, and sirens were wailing and shattering through the air. People were constantly on the move, yelling, their footsteps pounding against the endless pavement. There was always a frantic flow of tightly packed cars, consisting mostly of yellow taxis, on every street. The heart of the city was nothing but steel, concrete, loud noises, steam billowing up from manholes, and rash New Yorkers. Aromas from food vendors’ carts, restaurants, and coffee shops constantly wafted through the air, and the subway shook the earth below my feet.
I was obsessed.
Every experience and site was grandiose—I wouldn’t have expected anything less from this city—but nothing compared to our last stop. I hadn’t been prepared for the overwhelming sanctity and stillness of what was now the National September 11 Memorial.
The monument consisted of two enormous waterfalls and reflecting pools that sat within the footprints of where the Twin Towers had once been erected. The name of every person who had been killed in the 2001 attack and the 1993 bombing were inscribed into bronze panels edging the memorial pools. It served as a powerful reminder of how fragile life could be and how, even when we thought we couldn’t be touched by horrible acts of inhumanity, no one was immune.
I stood there, mute, and tried to absorb the tribute of remembrance, paying honor to the three thousand people who had been killed in the terror attacks. If it were possible for a place to mourn, the air surrounding me was weeping. Even with people milling around—laughing, talking, and crying—the atmosphere was unmoving. It hung heavy with sadness, as if the tortured souls of the ruthlessly murdered clung to every facet. I prayed their tormented spirits would find peace, even in the face of the viciousness they had experienced at Ground Zero.
Silent tears tumbled down my cheeks as I watched and photographed the ceremony of a woman in uniform receiving her badge of honor alongside her family and friends. It was intimate, sacred, hopeful, and honorable.