Cresting Time: Day 1
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Over the next 31 days I will be participating in a BYOB (Blog Your Own Book) challenge. My book will be a novella written in 31 parts. Each day I will provide the next installment of the story. Please note this is a rough draft that I am sharing with you all. Once the month is complete I will go back and revise/edit the work. Be sure to sign up so you don’t miss a post. Thanks for reading!
I sat on the window seat looking out at the beach. I felt remarkably calm as I watched the ocean creep closer and closer by the minute. Calmer than I had felt in months.
Soon, night would fall and the little light that fought its way through the angry clouds and torrential rain would disappear. Our little corner of the world would be masked in darkness.
How would we know if the ocean got too close? Was there any way we could escape its deadly reach?
The wind hissed and roared. The waves surged and crashed. Mother nature’s angry symphony.
And why shouldn’t she be angry? Everyone else was angry these days.
This entire year was a complete disaster. Literally. The entire year.
It all began with the explosion in Times Square.
We were dancing and laughing and, yes, drinking, at Marcie Elliot’s house celebrating the the new decade. There were at least fifty of us crammed into her too-small family room.
We should have gone to Derek’s or Lindi’s. They both had amazing basements with big-screen t.v.’s, surround sound and fully stocked bars. Unfortunately, that year, they also had parents ringing in the new year at home.
We’d been planning our epic New Year’s Even party for weeks. For some reason we made a ridiculously big deal about the fact that 2020 was the year we’d become seniors and we wanted to ring it in in fashion.
Looking back it seems very stupid. But also a bit prophetic. Maybe we sensed what was coming . . .
We planned for weeks. Fancy evites. Formal attire. Silver and gold decorations. A killer playlist.
We even debated getting a band, but we didn’t really know where we’d set them up. Or how we would pay them. So a play list it was.
And champagne. Lots and lots of champagne. Ben’s older brother had been hooking us up with beer, White Claw and Smirnoff for ages, but he scoffed when Ben requested two cases of champagne.
“Dude, do you know how much that’s gonna cost? Not to mention how bad a Champagne hangover is.
“It’s the bubbles,” he said. “You gotta be careful with that shit.”
His warning did nothing to deter us. Although, when we pooled our money all we could afford was Cold Duck. It sounded gross to me. But by the time we got to it, it tasted fine.
For a while we felt so grown up and sophisticated drinking our sparkling wine in our fancy clothes.
Luckily we didn’t wait for midnight to break out the good stuff. Or there would still be bottles of it sitting in Marcie’s garage.
It was around ten when someone started passing out plastic flutes of champagne. Torrie was pissed.
“That’s supposed to be for midnight.”
“Relax Torrie. We’ve got plenty.”
“Yeah, Torrie. Don’t be lame. We’re almost out of beer. And there’s not much vodka left either.”
“It’s New Years. Lighten up.”
She sighed and shook her head. But she stopped objecting. And, I noticed, quickly downed three glasses.
As the champagne flowed the party got louder and louder. Couples were slow dancing in the foyer and making out on the couch. And I think that Nick and Nat had sex in the laundry room. Gross.
I was dateless that evening. Eric and I had been hanging out over Christmas break, but he didn’t want to go to “some dumb high school party”. I didn’t blame him.
And I didn’t really want him there either.
Things had been strange between us lately. I guess it was inevitable, but it felt like neither one of us knew what do next.
I told myself it didn’t matter that he didn’t invite me to go to Wally’s with him. We both knew I couldn’t get in. I had been making such a big deal about this party he knew that’s where I wanted to be.
But still, he should have asked. Shouldn’t he?
He had stopped over earlier that the evening.
I was upstair getting ready for the party. I had splurged for a Blow Out at Dry Bar. Well, Dad had splurged. All I had left to do was put on my make-up and get dressed.
I didn’t know he was coming. And when he arrived, Mom sent him up to my room.
It’s hard to believe she was ever that cool.
He knocked at the same time he pushed the door open. I had just finished zipping up my dress and spin around when I heard the door creak.
I was surprised to see him standing there. Happy surprised. My face lit up and I flashed him a seductive smile.
He let out a low whistle and stared directly into my eyes. I could feel my heart fluttering in my chest. I bit my lip.
“Wow,” he said. “You look . . . incredible.”
“Thanks.” I tossed my hair.
“Maybe a high school party wouldn’t be that bad after all. Not with the hottest girl in town on my arm.”
I knew he was just being flirtatious, so I smiled. “Can you help me with my necklace?”
Slowly he walked towards me and I handed him the sapphire pendant he had given me for my birthday. Sapphire was his birthstone. Not mine.
I turned my back to him and lifted my hair out of the way. He bent down and kissed my neck. First softly. And then hungrily. His kisses moved up from my collarbone to my ear and he wrapped his arm around my waist, pulling me closer to him.
My body responded to his touch and I wanted to turn around and kiss him. This was what I had been waiting for every time we got together.
But my brain kept thinking of my open bedroom door, Mom was cool, but not cool. And there were so months of awkward exchanges.
And Bethany.
I cleared my throat. “My necklace,” I teased, reminding him why he was standing behind me.
He sighed, and clasped the necklace around my neck.
I spun around and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. “Thank you.”
Then I walked over to my desk chair and fastened the straps on my sparkly sandals.
“Annie . . .” he began, using my childhood nickname. He is the only one who still called me that. His eyes darting back and forth between my shoes and my eyes.
“Thanks for stopping by. It was a nice surprise.” I grabbed my bag and walked towards him. I stopped in front of him, our faces only inches apart.
I could feel his breath on my face and hear his heat beating. He licked his lips.
Before either one of us could make a bad decision, I brushed his lip with my own and whispered, “Happy New Year.”
“Happy New Year.”
“I gotta go. I told Marcie I’d help her set up.”
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Lisa Walton is a former lawyer, forever teacher and writer/ghostwriter who writes about education, parenting and personal growth. She is a firm believer in the power of a well-told story. She is passionate about helping kids cultivate the curiosity, creativity and confidence to chase their dreams. “It’s never too late to reinvent yourself and craft the life you want to live.” You can find her on Instagram, Facebook, and Twitter.
