Chapter 9 - Same Time Next New Year's

“Please tell me that this won’t end here,” Leo whispers.

“What?” I whisper back, even though I know what he means.

“This.” His finger moves back and forth between us. “Whatever this is that we stumbled into by accident,” he stammers. “It couldn’t have been by accident. It feels too purposeful. It feels too right. And honestly I’m terrified that I’m going to wake up tomorrow and realize it’s all too good to be true.”

I breathe in steadily and then shake my head slightly. “I don’t want this to end, whatever this is.”

“You promise?” His voice is dripping with vulnerability.

“I promise,” I tell him seriously. “I’ve felt more comfort and joy in talking to you today than I’ve truly felt in years.”

My world suddenly feels like it has shifted a little. I can see paths I hadn’t noticed before. His words and his promises don’t just make me believe in what might be—they make me believe in what could be, opening doors I had long since stopped trying to find. He makes me feel steady and reassured. And I feel like maybe, just maybe, things are going to be okay again—better than okay. With every word shared between us, it’s as if he’s handing me the tools I needed to rebuild the hope I had lost. Piece by piece.

“I feel the same exact way.” He smiles at me. God I hope he does.

My smile forms without any effort, just a natural response to his. “I swear I’m not usually this, like, mushy,” I admit with a nervous laugh.

“I can’t say the same.” He sighs. “I’m a pretty mushy guy.”

“It takes a lot of confidence to admit that.” I laugh, and he joins in.

“It’s almost midnight,” he says, and I furrow my brows, looking down at my watch to check.

“Wow,” I say. “Have we really been talking for that long?”

“Yeah,” he says with a smile. “You should put the Ball Drop on your TV.”

“The what?” I ask, confused.

“The Times Square Ball Drop,” he clarifies.

“Oh,” I realize. I pick my remote up and look through the channels for the right program. When I find it, I put it on. “Is this where you were going to be tonight?”

“Not there exactly, but close by.” He sighs. “A first date in Times Square on New Year’s Eve would be wild.”

“I’m sure it’s pretty crazy there,” I say.

“You have no idea,” he tells me. “There’s barely room to even put your phone to your ear, and it’s always freezing.”

“Well that sounds like a good time to me,” I respond sarcastically.

He sighs. “If only I accidentally texted you yesterday.” He looks somewhere away from the camera quickly, at the TV I assume. “Almost time,” he says.

I look up at the TV and see the countdown, not started yet, but just about ready to begin. “Do you think I really would have traveled all the way to meet a stranger on one of the craziest nights of the year?”

“Crazier things have happened,” he jokes.

“True.” I laugh.

“Well what about next year?” he asks.

My heart pounds. “Next year?”

“What if…” he trails off, sounding a bit nervous. “What if we plan to meet next year? Next New Year’s Eve?”

“Next year?” I ask again.

“Yeah, why not?” He continues, “That has to be plenty of time to properly get to know each other…and make sure we’re not both psychopaths. I mean, if we can meet even sooner, I’d do that in a heartbeat,” he admits, and I can’t help the bit of panic that runs through me while also weaving together with excitement. “But you just went through a lot of really difficult transitions, and I know you need time to yourself and time to heal. I would never want to get in the way of that.”

I look away from him and to the TV. The screen is a bit blurry through my tears, but I can still make out the countdown happening now.

Forty-five… Forty-four… Forty-three…

I feel a tightness in my chest, my breath shallow and fast as I am overwhelmed with these conflicting emotions. The panic tries to claw at the edges of my mind. But underneath it, a strange thrill surges through me, an energy that is both terrifying and intoxicating. I feel like I am standing on the edge of something unknown, and the fear only makes the excitement feel more alive and more electric.

“Was that too much?” he asks.

I look back to him and shake my head with a smile. “No, I uh—” I clear my throat. “I just wasn’t expecting that.”

“Was it too much?” he asks again, his brows pulled together.

“No,” I say stronger this time. “It wasn’t just you asking to meet…it was you. Your, uh, kindness.”

We sit in silence together.

Nineteen… Eighteen… Seventeen…

“I know it’s kind of insane to say this,” I start, looking for the right words. “But today is the best day I’ve had in a long time.”

He doesn’t miss a beat when he says, “Me too, Jo.”

I smile. “So, we’ll meet at eleven at the phone booth on 32nd next year?” I joke, but find that I am completely serious.

Eight… Seven… Six…

“Same time, next New Year’s?” He smiles.

I laugh. “Same time, next New Year’s.”

“You promise?” he asks, his voice sounding hopeful and a bit vulnerable. There’s even a bit of worry that seems to flicker through his expression.

I smile, and without having to think twice about it I nod, “I promise.”

Three… Two… One…

Multiple shouts and cries of ‘Happy New Year!’ sound from the TV. I watch the screen with a smile while thinking about the stranger on the phone. Not really a stranger, not anymore.

“Happy New Year, Jo,” Leo says.

I grin. “Happy New Year, Leo.”