i'm allergic to cherries. but this chapter actually has new years in it, so why not?
Chapter Fourteen
School in December was hell, because no one liked studying for midterms, and everyone detested taking them even more. But everybody loved the three-and-a-half weeks of winter vacation that would follow.
Sydney and Vaughn spent the days after Christmas together, usually outside in the frigid weather, mostly taking walks through parks that were abandoned. Mittens and gloves kept their delicate fingers warm in the below-zero temperatures, as did coats, scarves, and hats for corresponding parts of their bodies.
Vaughn couldn’t help but feel choked by all the heavy outerwear, but he knew in his heart that all of his attire was on fairly loosely. He had never really been an anxious person, he was more the laid-back type, but lately, he had more anxiety than he knew what to do with. When he was at school, he thought that maybe when Sydney came home for the break the strangling feeling would go away. But she’d been home for six days now, and, if anything, he was feeling worse. All day, his thoughts always drifted to the end of January, when both of them would be back in school, back across the country from each other. And he would have to work hard, and study hard to keep his scholarships. In addition, he would still be working his off-campus job, and would still have to somehow make time to talk to Sydney, a time when both of them were free, and they’d have to take into account the time difference.
He felt like he couldn’t breathe, so he loosened his scarf some more. But he was still feeling short of breath and too warm. As he tried to catch his breath, clouds of white steam exited his mouth and entered the atmosphere rapidly. Sydney had been noticing that he was acting weird for most of the week, and now she saw him almost fighting for air. She stopped. “Are you okay?” she asked, concerned.
Vaughn heard her voice and jerked his head to look at her. “What?” he asked too quickly. “Oh,” he replied just as hurriedly. “No, no,” he said, more slowly. “I’m fine, I swear.” He forced a smile, and he realized it was probably the first time he had ever lied to her, and the pangs of guilt were already starting to eat at him with their acidic poison. They continued their stroll, as if nothing happened.
Will and Francie were also home until a week before February. It was almost ironic: Will’s decision to apply to Columbia, where Vaughn was now attending, had brought him and Francie together as a couple. But by the end of the summer, their romance had fizzled and he had decided to go to Colorado State, while Francie ended up traveling to Brigham Young University in Hawaii for her schooling. Francie was going to double major in hotel/motel management and travel/tourism management, while Will enrolled in the honor program and was fulfilling his dream of majoring in journalism.
They were still best friends, and for the time being, neither was dating anyone else.
Sydney spoke with them a few times a week, but never every single day, the way she did with Vaughn. Most of their conversations were via instant message. And that was okay between the three of them. Regardless, it was still very strange for them to be in three different states, none of them adjacent to one another, especially since Francie’s school was on an island. During their time back, they talked about all of their freshman experiences so far, from the humorous to the disgusting, and everything in between.
Vaughn pushed back all of his negative thoughts by the time it was New Year’s Eve. He, Will, Francie, Weiss, and his date, Clara, a girl he met at Rutgers, where he went, would all be going over to Sydney’s to celebrate, because her father was out of town. Surprisingly, she was very okay with that, though it might have had to do with the fact that she wanted Vaughn to spend the night.
Vaughn was the first to arrive, even though Will and Francie lived much closer. Sydney knew that something was going on with him because of the reclusive way he had been behaving. But when he came over that night, he was very, very chipper. “Hey,” she smiled as she opened the door. “You’re earl–,” she was saying, but he cut her off with a mind-numbing kiss that made her shaky all over. Her front door was still open, and cold air was gushing in, but, in actuality, it was refreshing. She was trying to regain her breath without breaking their kiss, but after a few minutes, she couldn’t keep it up anymore and pulled away.
She really did love him, and she showed him so by brightening into a smile, and giving him a look that only he ever saw: a tranquil, doting, fragile look. After that, she tugged him in by his crew neck sweater and pulled him into a fiery kiss of her own, at the same time shutting the door by pushing his back against the heavy wood and reinforced glass. Neither of them was sure how, but they ended up making out on the family room couch. Sydney’s make-up was smudge-proof, so there was no problem there. Her hair it was another story. Honestly, she did brush it before her guests were due to arrive, albeit now it was impossible to ever tell, because it looked more like she’d been lying around all day.
Truthfully, she’d only been lying around for the last half hour, though she could see why others would assume it was all day, but that was Vaughn’s fault. Well, perhaps not all of his fault.
Honestly, she didn’t care what she looked like.
The two of them had been laying on the couch for a while, side by side, lengths of bodies touching. No other invitees had yet shown up. Sydney stretched her neck up so that she could see over Vaughn, and the clock above the TV told her that it was well after seven. She told everyone to come at six-thirty. Meanwhile, Vaughn was trying to smooth of the crow’s nest mess he’d made in her hair.
“Sorry,” he chuckled, for the first time really seeing the damage. She joined his laughter.
“Don’t worry about it.” She paused, lost in her own thoughts, really, and Vaughn continued to remedy her hair. “I’m just wondering where everyone else could be,” she said.
He smiled, like he was up to something.
“What are you up to?” she asked with a single raised eyebrow.
He shook his head where he lay on the edge of the couch, and shrugged. “Oh, you know… nothing.” Cocking her head to the side added a more inquisitive nature to her lying stance, and he chuckled again. “Okay, so maybe I told Weiss you changed your mind and said for everyone to come over at seven-thirty instead. And maybe I passed on this information to Francie and Will.” She rolled her eyes, but her grin countered it. “Maybe I thought you would appreciate the spontaneous gesture,” he added.
Two seconds later she said, “Maybe I do, very much,” and kissed him languidly. Afterward, she shoved him, hard enough so that he fell off the couch, slow enough so that he could catch his balance before he hit the floor. He gave her an irritated, unpleased and unimpressed, look.
“I’m sorry,” she said with pouted lips and puppy dog eyes, while she sat up. He shook his head, smirking. “But I need to comb my hair now, before my late, actually on time, guests get here, and all.”
Turns out everyone else showed up more or less promptly. In the beginning, the situation was a little awkward with Clara, an outsider, there. However, with time, everyone warmed up nicely to her. At first, no one knew what they should do, so they floated between the networks, making fun of celebrities’ and hosts’ outfits. That only lasted about twenty minutes before they got terribly bored.
Snacking foods were laid out on the coffee table, and Sydney made sure to buy and give the “good stuff” so she wouldn’t get called out by Francie, who would claim she kept it all for herself, as she had done on more than one previous occasion. Along with the food were cups for everyone and a couple different kids of drinks.
In the end, they unanimously decided on having a Scene It marathon until a few minutes before midnight, before the New Year. Sydney happened to be the owner of just about every version Scene It that was made. Naturally, they started with the original, and played it everyone for themselves. As the night progressed, they changed games to the Sequel pack, the WB pack, the Disney Version, the TV Version, and the Friends Version. They also paired and teamed up as the night went on, having it couples against couples, boys against girls, and they even played Rock Paper Scissors for teams. If two people had the same sign, then they were teammates: they would play Rock Paper Scissors until they made either two or three even teams, which involved some troubleshooting, but in the end worked out just fine.
The tricky thing was whether or not to serve champagne. Sure, all of them had had drinks before, but technically they were all still underage. And two of the six people there would be driving later on. So, it was collectively concluded that they would each have one glass of champagne to ring in the New Year, but then after that it was sparkling cider for everyone.
As always, the real countdown began at ten seconds to twelve a.m. and descended from there, with all of the half dozen people in Sydney’s house shouting out the numbers in unison. The glittery ball was shining above Times Square in New York, a place Vaughn now knew quite well, and thousands were huddled together in the city, chiming in. Finally, they reached the number one, and clocks all over the eastern coast of the United States clicked to one-two-zero-zero. A friendly kiss was exchanged between Will and Francie, while more romantic ones were given and received between Sydney and Vaughn, and Clara and Weiss, respectfully.
Will realized that all this time they’d been missing the annual Twilight Zone marathon, and suggested that they keep it on in the background. Everyone, except for Vaughn, stayed until about two-thirty.
Vaughn and Sydney kept each other company until they were too exhausted to even pucker up for a kiss, and they fell asleep easily and snugly, under her soft down comforter.
The three primary weeks of January were only slightly hectic. Sydney made sure that she spent as many waking minutes as possible with Vaughn, and vice versa, because the next time they would be seeing each other wouldn’t be until March, when they both, thankfully, had Spring Break simultaneously.
But as February crept up on them, Vaughn’s anxiety returned, complete with the shortness of breath, and the headaches, and the general nervous feelings.
He knew what he had to do, although it would kill him to do it. And he knew that he had to do it, although it killed him that it came down to this.
What he absolutely detested was the fact that he would be breaking more than promises.
Four days before Sydney was flying back they were hanging out in her family room, on the couch that had been there for them through so much. He hoped it would be consoling this time.
And then he realized he was thinking about a stupid couch, an inanimate object.
But it was a stupid inanimate object that held memories for them both.
When he got home that night, it wasn’t even eleven yet, an unusually early time for him to be home, and his mother noticed. He was praying he made the right decision, praying he didn’t damage what he held most dear, but with further thought he knew he had – it was impossible to not have.
He broke more than just promises that night: He broke hearts – two of them, Sydney’s and his.
When Amelie came to the foyer her son looked dreadfully awful. “What on earth happened to you?” she asked, worried. He didn’t say anything then, so Amelie examined him more, and saw that his frequently bright green eyes were a sullen shade of jade. Her son was hunched over, not standing with proper posture, and he was taking deep breaths. “Michael?” she encouraged, kindly.
“I think…,” he hesitated a bit. Saying it out loud cemented it to reality, and even though he induced it, he wasn’t exactly ready for it to be real. But he had to be ready, because it was real. “I think I just broke up with Sydney,” he said in a low tone.