I would agree with her, although there isn’t much to look at except for the lights coming from the boats. It’s pitch-black and thankfully has stopped snowing. She walks off without introducing herself and heads over to another guest. I think about leaving, or at least heading downstairs to where Natalie is. Right now, I’d rather spend what little time I have left in Boston with her than be up here.
Jordan approaches, slaps his hand down on my back and says, “Happy fucking New Year, man.” He’s drunk. Drunk Jordan is usually the life of the party, unless you’re in Los Angeles and he’s drunk at a social event. Over the years, he’s come out to visit and we’ve gone to a few events. Tuxedos, open bars, the whole Hollywood glam lifestyle, and while I enjoy having him there, sometimes he’s too over the top for these stuffy executives.
“Happy New Year. Thanks for having me over. Who’s the woman?” I nod toward my former conversation partner.
Jordan looks over his shoulder, back and me and smiles. “Ramona. She works for the Celtics, upper management or something in legal, I think. Her husband left her for a younger version, a cheerleader or something. We bang every now and again. Neither of us are looking for anything but sex so it works out, especially on nights like tonight.”
“Yeah, she has a nice place.”
“She hates it but got it in the divorce, so she stays.”
I don’t really have anything to say in response, so I change the subject. “Do you remember Natalie O’Brien?”
Jordan’s eyes go wide. “Dude, you had such a hard on for her in high school.”
Still do.
“Yeah, I remember her, why?” he asks.
“I ran into her at the store.”
“She still cute?”
“She’s gorgeous,” I tell him.
He pushes me slightly. “Ah, Bren, you got a little crush.”
I can’t help but smile back. “Tell me it won’t work. Tell me I’m being stupid and thinking about her is going to get me nowhere. Tell me I shouldn’t text her.”
Jordan stops smiling and looks at me seriously. “Did you get her number?”
I nod as my hand grips the phone in my pocket. “She’s downstairs at another party too.”
Jordan’s hand is back on my shoulder and he pulls me toward him slightly. “Really? What are the odds?”
“Dunno, I never look at the odds, but I’m wondering—”
“Nah, man. Look around.” He turns me toward the living room. “You have your pick of pussy. Each one guaranteed not to call you the next day, not to hound you with memories from high school. We’ve moved on, man. Gotta leave the past in the past and welcome in the new year with someone you don’t have to remember the name of in the morning.”
I don’t agree with him. I’m not him and I’m definitely not what people would call the “Hollywood type”. Hook-ups have never been my thing. Sure, women throw themselves at me, wanting to spend time with me, but none of them interest me. One time, I tried to take a woman on a date, she wanted sex. I saw right through her the minute she snapped a picture of us and put it on her Instagram. The one real relationship I had, ended abruptly. One minute, we’re living together and the next, I’m single and have no idea what happened. Jordan may be okay with the bang ‘em and leave ‘em lifestyle, but it’s not for me.
Besides, I can’t get my mind off Natalie and knowing she’s downstairs, it’s where I want to be. A couple of Jordan’s friends join us, creating a little circle. The chit chat is idle, what do you do for work, which when I’m asked, usually results in a fangirl or boy moment or a “yeah, I thought you looked familiar” sort of thing. All while the door keeps opening, people are coming and going, making me wonder what else I could be doing tonight.
Natalie—not that I could be doing her—but spending time with her. I could take her on a date or bring food to the hospital for her since I’m assuming, she’ll have to work if tonight is her only night off. I have two days to spend time with someone I’ve missed and I might as well take advantage of what’s in front of me.
I catch Jordan staring at me and look at him oddly. “What?”
“You’re seriously standing here, surrounded by hot, single women, and thinking about your high school ex?” He grabs both my shoulders and shakes them. “What is wrong with you?”
“Nostalgic, I guess?”
“It’s a New Year’s Eve party. Each of these women would love to take you back to their place and bang the fuck out of you.”
“That’s just it, J. I get this all the time. I can fucking snap my fingers and five chicks will line up for a chase. Maybe I want something different.”