Chapter 15 - Same Time Next New Year's

“How have we barely made it a few blocks?” Liz cries. I stifle a cry of my own. My feet are aching, and I’m freezing cold. I bundle down into my puffer jacket even more than I already am.

“Why didn’t I bring a hat or a scarf?” I growl. The throngs of people jostling us make it hard to get as far as we should have.

“Same,” Liz whines. “Do you think we’re getting close?”

I look around. “It’s hard to tell.”

It takes us several detours to get around the hoards of people and the road blockages but we finally find the tall sign that reads ‘32nd Street.’ We follow it west until we hit the Hudson River.

No phone booth.

“God, why can’t anything just work out for me a little bit? Just a little bit,” I grit through my teeth.

“Okay, deep breaths,” Liz says reassuringly even though I can tell through her huffing and puffing that she’s exhausted.

So we start walking back the way we came, and I try my best to keep the negative and angry thoughts out of my head. We walk with our arms linked, keeping us from being separated and also helping with some body heat.

“It’s okay,” Liz huffs next to me while we walk as fast as our aching legs and the insane New Yorkers allow us. “It’s all going to work out. I just know it.”

I shoot her a grateful look. “Sorry I’ve been such a grump today.”

She gives me a quick smile. “Forgiven. You have a lot on your beautiful mind right now. Let it out, baby.”

I chuckle and then shudder. “It’s so cold, I can’t even feel my toes anymore. I’m glad I wore these boots and not my sneakers.”

“You’re welcome,” Liz sing-songs to me.

I roll my eyes and admit, “Yeah, yeah. Thanks for telling me to pick the boots.” She throws me a smirk. “But you did pick the wrong number and made us go in the wrong direction.”

She gasps dramatically. “You swore you wouldn’t blame me for that!”

I laugh. “I’m joking. Relax, drama queen.”

We don’t talk for a long time, saving our energy. I can’t remember the last time my legs hurt this bad. And I don’t think I’ve ever experienced the complete numbness I’m feeling in my feet. I’m a little afraid that I’ll take my boots off later and find that everything has turned blue.

And that’s what I’m going to take away from his whole stupid excursion—frostbite. And hypothermia.

I think we must be really close to the New Year’s Eve show because the crowds get massive and the music gets louder. It takes us a long time to skirt around the crowds, even having to cross a few different streets.

“What’s the thing called again?” Liz asks.

“What thing?”

“The New Year’s Eve show. With Ryan Seacrest.”

“Oh, uh,” I think, trying to remember. I looked it up a bit the other day. “New Year’s Rockin’ Eve? I think?” I guess and then nod. “That sounds right.”

“Yeah, that sounds familiar.”

“I knew we would be doing a lot of walking,” I huff. “But it’s different when you’re actually doing it. This is the worst.”

I look at my phone.

10:55 p.m.

I bite down on my groan. “Come on, come on.” Liz and I need to switch to holding each other’s hands because we can’t push through the people side by side. I hold on as tightly to her hand as my fuzzy gloves allow.

We come to a standstill behind a wall of people. I groan, pulling Liz’s hand to a stop. I turn to look around me, and then we start to back track a bit before we go down the next street. “Keep looking for a phone booth,” I remind Liz.

“You don’t have to keep reminding me, you know. I have one job, and it’s pretty easy,” she snaps back.

“Okay, whatever, let’s keep going,” I say, tugging her along. We loop around the block to get back on 32nd.

As we keep walking, not nearly as fast as I wish we could, I try my best to avoid the little time at the top of my phone screen. I do one peek to see it read 11:07 p.m. The panic that’s been bubbling in me all day is getting closer and closer to overflowing.

What if he showed up but I didn’t make it in time?

And then he leaves…

Oh no. That’s a possibility I had never considered before. If he’s not there when I hopefully get there, how do I know he wasn’t there already? On time? And then left because he didn’t want to wait around in the freezing cold.

“Come on, come on,” I say under my breath.

11:15 p.m.

“Please,” I almost cry. We keep walking down 32nd, but there’s no sign of a phone booth.

“Oh my God, Liz,” I say with realization, not stopping our pace. “What if it wasn’t supposed to be the 32nd near Times Square? What if he meant a different one?”

Fear now holds me in its relentless grip. Despite the frigid air, my hands grow clammy and I can’t stop the slight tremor that runs through my fingers—I know it’s more than just the cold. Nervous energy courses through me and underneath that, a deep fear settles like a stone in my stomach. My throat is dry as I try to swallow and my mind spins in endless circles, going over all of the outcomes that are possibly waiting for me at the end of this street.

“That would be dumb! Why meet up so far away and then have to walk in the cold to get all the way to the freakin’ Ball Drop?” she counters.

I guess that makes sense. But the scariest thing is that I don’t know for sure.

And there’s no guarantee that we’re going to find this phone booth at all.

There’s a chance I’ll truly never see Leo ever again.