We Are Us

“The DJ was flown in from London, just for tonight.”

“I guess Wren went all out.”

“This isn’t Wren’s place.”

“But I thought—”

“New begi

Surprise twists through me. Surprise and a pleasant feeling of relief. “New begi

For the next couple of hours, Tucker holds my hand as he introduces me to people he knows. Which is almost everyone. When I’m not smiling and pretending like I can hear over the music, we’re dancing to a blend of hip-hop and pop, most of the songs remixed with a techno beat. Every once in a while, Tucker’s hands graze my body, but he never pulls me too close or grinds up against me.

And even though there is a liquor bar staffed by a bartender in a corner, Tucker bypasses it in favor of the ice bucket beside it, grabbing bottles of water instead.

Finally, the music cuts out. “It’s almost midnight, everyone!” someone yells. Tucker grabs my hand and brings me out onto the terrace, positioning himself behind me, his arms wrapping around my waist.

“Ten, nine, eight…” everyone is shouting, counting down the last seconds to midnight. Everyone but me. I can’t, I’m frozen in place, the breath still inside my chest.

“Seven, six, five…”

Talons of fear claw at my neck. What will I do if Tucker kisses me?

“Four, three, two, one…”

How did I not consider this scenario earlier? Of course, he’ll expect a New Year’s kiss.

“Happy New Year!” The crowd of partygoers erupts, here on the terrace and below in Times Square.

I imagine Tucker’s hands sliding to my hips, turning me around to face him, his mouth crashing down on mine.

“I have you all to myself, don’t I?”

“Need to lie down.” My words are barely a mumble. I’m holding onto consciousness by my fingernails.

Tucker follows, his lips on mine, his body heavy on top of me. I whimper, trying to draw a deep breath. But I can’t.

“Happy New Year,” Tucker whispers softly. His breath is an unsettling caress over my temple, but he makes no move to spin me around and the kiss I dreaded is just a gentle press against my cheek. “Thank you for coming tonight, Poppy. It really means the world to me.”

I manage a nod, and we stay like that. The madness of Times Square below, an indigo sky ablaze with fireworks overhead. Champagne corks popping, ebullient couples kissing.

Tonight has been… nice. Really nice. Tucker has been attentive and charming. And his smile has been doing wicked things to me—like making me all too aware just how good-looking Tucker really is and how much fun I’m having with him. And, when I let myself relax, it feels damn good to be held in his arms.

Which makes me think— If this really is a fresh start, why can’t I follow these new feelings wherever they lead? I don’t have to stay trapped in the past.

I don’t want to stay trapped in the past.

Tucker and I are an island in a sea of chaos, standing still even as my turbulent heart thumps wildly against my ribcage. Eventually, I give myself permission to enjoy the feel of his hands around my waist, the gentle press of his chin on the crown of my head.

And after a long while, or maybe only a few minutes, it is me who turns within his embrace. Heat gathers in my belly when our eyes meet, then spreads outward when his gaze drops to my lips. My tongue darts out of one corner, sweeping along the crease. Tucker’s eyes follow, chocolate brown melting into amber. “I think I should bring you back.”