I give a low chuckle and watch them walk away. Instead of following their lead, I sneak off to an empty room where I can get a moment to myself. A moment to think without all the noise and attention. Without the buzzing in my head, like a low whirring noise, that doesn’t seem to go away. But even with the spirited chitter chatter stifled behind a closed door, my body feels on edge. And that feeling, the one where I feel like my feet are never fully grounded and I’m ready to jump into action, magnifies.
The room I’m in looks like an office. There’s a large wooden desk at the far wall and opposite to it is a floor-to-ceiling bookcase filled to the brim with leather-bound books. I reach into my pocket and dial Teeny’s number.
“Hello?” I hear her voice on the second ring.
“I was hoping you’d answer.”
She laughs. “I’ve been waiting by the phone.”
I set my glass down on a small side table situated next to a leather couch before I plop onto the cushy seat. “I finally snuck away,” I tell her. “I’m hoping the ball drop will keep my parents from looking for me.”
“Well, I got my Martinelli’s in a mug and the party hats my mom got us.”
“Your parents aren’t out tonight?”
“Nope,” she answers. “New Year’s is strictly a family event. Plus we’re going to my grandparents’ house early in the morning.”
“How early?”
“Seven-ish?”
I grimace. “Is this a usual thing?”
“For us? Yeah. New Year’s is a big thing for my grandparents. We go to their house, pay our respects, eat a lot of food.”
“Huh,” I respond. “Well, I’ll be sleeping in until noon. Or later, depending on how smashed my parents get.”
“Lucky.”
“I miss you,” I finally say after I feel like I’ve been holding it in for so long.
“I miss you, too,” she responds, her voice hushed. “When does your flight get in?”
“Around eleven.”
“In the morning?”
“Yeah.”
She breathes a sigh of relief. “I thought you were going to miss my show.”
“I’ll cross oceans to be there.”
“Actually you’ll cross a few deserts and Fresno,” she says in that teasingly sarcastic tone I love so much. “And Bakersfield, I believe.”
“Since when did you become a geography whiz?”
“Since I paid attention in fourth grade.”
The noise outside feels distant now. As if this room isn’t simply a room in this large mansion I feel completely out of place in, but as if it’s a sanctuary. Something Teeny created through a phone line despite the distance between us. My feet don’t bounce anymore on the fancy rug underneath me. They’re grounded, sitting in place as if something’s telling me it’s okay to stay rooted right now. While I’m on the phone with Teeny, in this hideaway that’s secluded me away from the noise, it’s okay that I be who I am when I’m with Teeny. I wish I could know if she feels the same way. I wish I could know if her heart is beating calmly. If it’s steady and measured because she’s talking to me, if I have the same effect on her as she does on me. And suddenly, I can’t wait to get back to her.
“Oh, ten seconds,” she says excitedly.
We both start counting down.
“Nine, eight, seven, six…”
I miss you.
