A nice old lady walks past and whispers to me that I shouldn’t let it get to me. That it’s okay to be gay. I smile up at her, and tell her I appreciate her stopping to say so, but that I already know. She smiles again and heads into the room behind my beach chair. I wonder what her name is, but only for a moment, because I’m checking the time again. 7:19. Noah’s snapped me back again, and so have a few more of his frat boys. And Cal from high school, aka my first crush turned bi-actor-college-thriving-icon, has sent me a video. My aunt texted to say happy early new year as well, because she’s already turning in for the night. Oh, and a notification from Super Warriors United, dressed as a cutesy little text message from the character Catalyst that he needs my help to combat evil. I don’t bother to open the game. I’ve already played a bit today, anyway. I don’t even have a Catalyst on my team.
I clear out the other notifications and open Noah’s message. It’s him frowning with a red solo cup pressed to his chin. I can see Sofia chatting with someone in the background.
“Sofi and I are sorry you’re alone and wish you were with us = ( <3 you a million billion times, Lee,” his caption reads.
I don’t actually doubt that Sofia misses me, too. She’s a nice gal. I kinda miss her. Granted, I’d much prefer to be with Noah independently of her so I can drunkenly smooch him at the end of the countdown and then pretend I don’t remember a thing after, but it’s probably best that I don’t have that opportunity, because it’s kind of fucked-up of me to think of doing that, anyway.
I send him back a selfie with a fake smile. Hopefully my hair looks cute or something so he’ll compliment me on that and I can forget about how he’ll probably kiss Sofia at midnight instead of me.
Coming to terms with my feelings for him has been such a double-edged sword. On one hand, now I can actively flirt with him and realize that I’m doing it and I can feel good, not weird, when he compliments me. I also feel less guilty about checking him out when he changes. On the other hand, I feel really awkward knowing that I’m crushing really hard on my straight-best-friend-slash-roommate, and I’m terrified of accidentally saying something that makes him uncomfortable. I’d way rather crush on him in sarcastic and flirtatious silence than lose him out of my life entirely because I like dick and he likes vagina.
I sigh and grab my stuff to go back up to my room. I spray on some cologne. The party down by the pool has started to form, and my parents should be here in an hour and a half. I’m getting this weird nauseous gas, like I always do when I’m nervous. It’s sort of annoying, but it’s also just a part of who I am, at this point. I’m pretty much over it.
I check myself in the mirror again, try to fluff my hair better, then put on some extra deodorant and some cologne. I run around and make my space look nicer. It’s really dark out now, but the space down below is brimming with excitement and energy about the celebration. I can hear voices rumbling from down there all the way up here on my second-floor, secluded little room.
I check the time again. 9:15. Noah’s sent me another message, too, and I’ve got one specifically from Sofia now, and another from Maggie, and another from Jax, who always messages me when he’s bored. I check only Noah’s again, because I’m not sure I have anything nice to say to Jax right now, and I don’t want Maggie to call me once she realizes I’m anxious right now.
Noah’s message is him, cross-eyed with his tongue stuck out in the cutest way I could ever imagine, captioned, “low-key your hair looks kinda cute lmaoooo”. My heart flip-flops and that just adds to the mounting nerves about my parents getting here. I step in front of the full-body mirror and look myself up and down, then push a hand up in my hair and take a picture. “You think? : p,” I send back.
Now, it’s 9:30 I can hear music playing from downstairs, and I’m still pacing around my room, fixing the same things I’ve already fixed eighteen times. I’m practically sprinting at this point, touching everything once on my way around the room. I don’t even know why. It’s just my parents.
By 10:00, I’m sitting on my couch, drink in hand. I went down a few minutes ago to grab one. No one asked me for an ID. It’s New Year’s Eve, and I think the bartender thought I was cute. He was cute. I’d fuck him.
By 10:30, I’ve finally realized that my parents just aren’t coming. I haven’t even gotten a text about their tardiness from either of them yet, despite me spamming both of them about fifteen times and calling everyone from their chef to their personal trainer, the latter of whom I’ve slept with a handful of times. I’m a whore. Sue me.
At 11:00, I’m in the crowd. That girl from earlier is grinding on me. I’ve got one hand on her hip, and a drink in the other hand. It reminds me of the time in high school when Cal and I grinded on each other at the same time. We just pushed our butts together on the dance floor and moved. I think Maggie filmed it. It was obviously more satisfying to do it with him than with this chick, but I honestly can’t complain. The booze keeps flowing, I told the bartender my room number, and the music is loud. I don’t need my parents here, anyway.
11:30 comes, and people are starting to get antsy for the countdown. I’ve eaten about half the bowl of shrimp, and it’s making me nauseous, despite the fact that I’ve only had three drinks. They were heavy drinks, courtesy of the sexy man behind the bar that keeps undressing me with his eyes across the resort, but I’m not drunk enough to puke out my guts. It must be the shrimp that’s making my stomach churn.
At 11:45, the bartender has left his post. I’m chewing on his bottom lip, and he’s fondling my ass. Everyone is too drunk to notice that he’s gone, which is ironic, because they all keep going to ask for more booze. He keeps murmuring about my “tolerance” and how I “must drink a lot at school, ‘cause I can sure handle my stuff” and then follows that up with a thinly veiled sexual innuendo about my tolerance for his dick. I threw up about five minutes ago, the shrimp spilling everywhere in the grass I walked through earlier, but he doesn’t seem to mind, because he keeps kissing me like I’ll run away if he lets go. Honestly? I might.
At 11:50, I’m away from the bartender, and have started chugging some water. “Shots” by LMFAO is blasting, and I’m vibing to it. Just jumping. No ass-shaking here. That’s probably boring to some people, but whatever.
Now it’s 11:55, and I start to step away from the crowd. It just sort of hit me that even in this group of people, I was alone. I walk towards the beach, away from the noise, and my toes hit sand. I’m not going for a swim. I’m too drunk for that, and it’s too dark. I’d probably drown. I can hear the mechanical voice of the DJ shout out that we’ve only got four more minutes on our countdown now, and it’s then that I sit my butt down in the sand. My khaki shorts are already tan, right? What’s the sand gonna do? Make it tanner? I’m not any tanner than I was.
At 11:58, I’m still staring out at the ocean. The music is still blasting behind me, but I don’t really miss it. I think the solitude here on the beach is fitting. People are around me, but no one is really here with me, and that’s okay. I can enjoy being alone. Here I can process the real feeling of rejection from my parents. They aren’t here, and they didn’t even bother to tell me why they couldn’t make it, or even that they wouldn’t be able to make it!
Now, it’s 11:59. The music behind me is quiet. The DJ has started a countdown from 60 with his weird, distorted voice. He has his iPhone up to his face to watch the seconds tick down, as if he’d miss a number if he looked away. I feel uncomfortably sober, still looking out over the water, wondering why I couldn’t have shared this moment with at least one other person I care about. My parents even told me I could bring a friend, but I said no because I wanted to cherish our time together. Apparently that was stupid of me.
And now, we’re in the last few seconds of this stupid year.
10.
9.
8.
7.
6, I hear them all shout behind me in unison.
5.
4.
3.
2, I whisper to myself, alone and crying on a beach in Southern Florida.
1.
“Happy New Year!” they scream.
“Happy New Year,” I sniffle.
The ocean in front of me, the fucking liar, waves.
Then, my phone rings. It has to be my parents, calling to apologize. Maybe I should give the ocean some credit. They usually send back a lazy text or have one of their employees call me. They never call themselves. Maybe they’re actually going to personally apologize to me and wish me a happy new year, and we can talk for a little bit. Maybe they’ll make it here tomorrow, because they got caught up north on a bad flight.
I pull my phone loose from my pocket to reveal a call from…
Noah?
“Hello?”
“Lee! Hey, buddy! Happy New Year!”
“Uh, Noey, it’s an hour earlier for you. You still have an hour before it’s the new year.”
“Duh. But I wanted to wish you one. Did your parents ever make it? I’ve snapped you like eight times in the last hour, but I guess you were busy. Which is cool. I’m kinda drunk. And Sofia is mad at me. I’m not even sure why. I’m sure we’ll talk about it in the morning. Is it warm there? It’s cold here. I hope you had fun tonight. Did you go to that party you were talking about? I hope so. I hope you had fun. I miss you a lot. Did you get a kiss to ring in the new year? Any cute boys hitting you up? I hope so. You deserve it. You deserve the world, Lee. Have I ever told you that? I think you must be the best person ever. Is that dumb? I’m drunk. I’m sorry. I just love you and I miss you a lot, and I hope you aren’t lonely right now. Oh, God, are you in bed? Are you being penetrated right now, Liam? That’s gross. Don’t tell me about that, I don’t wanna know. I’d be too jealous. I wanna do the penetrating, you know what I’m saying?”
“Noah! I’m not having sex. I’m on the beach. I’m sure if you talk to Sofia and apologize for whatever dummy-bonehead thing you did, she’ll let you penetrate.”
“Sofia? Right. Are you having sex on the beach? That doesn’t sound like fun to me, ever. Sex on the beach? Sounds sandy. Gross. I don’t want sandy ass. Sandy buttcheeks. Hey… Sandy Cheeks. From Spongebob! I’ve never put that together before. Am I stupid?”
“No, you’re not stupid. Just adorable.”
“Aww, stop, you’re making me blush. I think you’re more adorable. And I actually mean that! You are pretty adorable. I like when you wear your glasses. It’s like… intimate. I feel like no one but me gets to see you wear them. Like I’m special or something. I really like that feeling. Like you trust me.”
“Noah?”
“Yes, Lee. That’s me. I’m Noah. Although I prefer when you call me Noey. It’s kind of my favorite, to be honest. No one else calls me Noey but you and one time Sofia tried and I yelled at her ‘cause that’s my super-awesome roommate’s nickname for me, not anyone else’s.”
“Noey, then. Thank you for calling me. I miss you a lot. My parents… didn’t show up tonight.”
“Oh. Oh, no. Oh, Lee, buddy… I’m really sorry. I’m so sorry. You--Gimme a minute, Sofia, I’ve got Liam on the phone. No, we can talk tomorrow. Yes. I’ll see you later. Yeah, whatever. He’s my friend, and he’s alone on New Year’s Eve. Don’t be a bitch. I--hey! Sofia! Come back! I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that. Aaaaannnnddddd… she’s gone. Ugh. Sorry about that, Lee-Lee. But I’m still here. I wanna hear about your feelings.”
“You should probably talk to her, Noey.”
“Probably, but you’re more important.”
“Um. What?”
“You’re more important.”
“How? How is your roommate more important than your girlfriend?”
“What do you mean? How could you not be? You’re, like, my best friend, Lee! Which is weird, because we only met, like, four months ago, and yet, I literally cannot think of anyone else that I’m more ride-or-die for.”
“Noey… You goof. Drink some water, okay?”
“Hydrate or diedrate. I know that one.”
“Go talk to Sofia, and apologize for being a dick.”
“I wasn’t a dick, she was a bitch.”
“Pretend you were being one.”
“Fine.”
“And eat some chips or some bread or something, and go to bed right after midnight, okay? Get some rest.”
“Yes, dad.”
“Noey?”
“Yes, Lee?”
“Thank you for calling me.”
“Of course! I love you. A lot.”
“I love you, too, Noey. Happy New Year.”
“I love you, Lee. Happy happy New Year.”
And then he starts singing Auld Lang Syne, which I listen to in its entirety, then he tells me he loves me about fourteen more times, then mentions how pretty my eyes are once, then argues with Sofia again. Then, I tell him goodnight and hang up.
The ocean crashes in front of me, and I can tell that it’s laughing.
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