CHAPTER ONE
“Eight o’clock is insane, right?” Bridget vented. She sped down the street, barely caring to check for potholes.
“You’re gonna damage the car!” I shouted back. “You know the dealership is expensive.”
She briefly took her eyes off the road to look at me. “Yeah, well, I wanted a nice car, Justin. Sue me.”
Sometimes it may not seem like it, but I do love my girlfriend. She’s a strong-willed, intense, and occasionally erratic person, but we have this sort of intangible connection that’s kept us together for almost four years.
My name is Justin Kinsley, and I’m a 25-year old administrative assistant for an asset management company. In other words, I organize financial documents for a living.
How I got with Bridget in the first place is something I’ll never quite understand. She was this smart, stunning, and popular sorority girl at Northwestern, where we both attended college. I was a bookish, introverted mess of a guy in a low-tier fraternity. We met during our senior year at a mutual friend’s improv show and... bam! We just clicked. Three years out of school and we’re still happily– well, uh, we’re still dating.
“Well I don’t think 8 is so crazy to start a New Years Eve Party,” I stated, probably only adding fuel to the fire. “This way you’ll have ample time to get drunk first.”
Bridget rolled her eyes. She was in one of her moods.
At times, it’s been beneficial for her to have an abrasive, alpha personality. Bridget was a consultant at Deloitte, a major consulting firm. For those looking to grow quickly in the business or finance world, it was totally the place to be. But the job is just as intense as she is — which is probably why she’s a perfect fit. She travels most weeks, works long hours, and makes a ton of money.
Our apartment is in a River North high-rise: the peak of luxury, and especially impressive at our age. I, of course, would never be able to afford this kind of place if it weren’t for her. Dating a consultant certainly has its perks!
“Do you need to push back on every point I make? Jesus, Justin…”
“I’m just saying that if you’re complaining about the party starting too early, why are you trying to get there in half the time?”
Bridget let out a loud grunt. She was done with this conversation.
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The party host was another mutual friend of ours from college named Matt. He too was a consultant, so had an equally nice apartment — perfect for a big NYE bash. The luxury 2-bed / 2-bath comfortably fit the 40-50 guests.
“Guys! Welcome!” Matt came up to us, already a little tipsy. “Good to see you!”
I smiled. “Happy New Year!”
“Thanks for hosting,” Bridget added. She handed him the bottle of champagne we brought as a gift.
“Oh, sweet! Add it to the table. Drinking games starting in like an hour. Mingle away!”
We were only a few years out of college, so most parties we attended naturally pulled from the same pool of Northwestern folks. But as we were getting older, the groups got more diverse. That’s one of the cooler things about getting older. It’s not weird to talk with someone who’s 29 or 30 anymore when you’re 25. Four years ago it might be, but not now.
Plenty were friends and acquaintances I saw often, but I also got the chance to mingle and meet people from completely different walks of life. Sure, it was a lot of consultants, but I talked to this guy who was an author, this girl who was a painter, and even a podcast host.
I spent a lot of time chatting with Matt too. He’s the kind of hyper-friendly, always-positive person everyone needs in their lives.
“How’s everything been, man?” he asked.
“Good! Great in fact.” I replied. The other side of having a super positive friend is you never want to burden them with your troubles.
Sometimes it’s just safer to lie. “You know, they keep telling me they’re gonna promote me at work. Should be any day now.”
“Awesome, man. I’m so happy for you. Any resolutions?” Matt asked, then playfully punched my chest. “Maybe a haircut, eh?”
I laughed. “You and everyone else keep saying that.”
He was of course referencing my platinum-blonde, shoulder-length hair. Everyone always gives me shit for my hair. I started growing it out after college and sort of never stopped. I like it long. It’s kind of a fun project to maintain and look nice. Not that I ever do anything with it, but it gives me powerful, strong vibes.
“You gonna join a gym?” Matt added. “I feel like mine’s done wonders for me.”
“Hah!” I laughed immediately. “I could certainly use it, right? But nah, I don’t have the discipline.”
My entire life I’ve been thin and scrawny. For some reason, I’ve just never been an athletic guy, not to mention utterly incapable of building muscle mass. Maybe that’s why I like the powerful feeling of my long hair. What I lack in muscles, I make up for in locks.
I checked my phone and it was still only 10 PM. I’d barely talked to Bridget the entire night. She too was off mingling with new people, but mostly talking to this one guy I’d never seen before. I figured I’d butt in.
“Hey baby,” I said, kissing Bridget on the back of the head from behind. “How’s everything?”
“Hi,” she said sweetly. “I’m good.”
The guy nodded at her, and stepped away. Apparently finished with their conversation. Just before I got to introduce myself.
“Who was that?” I asked.
“Some guy. I dunno. I didn’t get his name. Seemed super funny and cool though.”
I thought very little of what she said over the next hour. It’d become time for drinking games.
A classic, of course, was Flip Cup. Were we all adults with careers and incomes? Yes. Did that mean we were too old to play a drinking game with solo cups around a collapsible table? Absolutely not.
The party was actually getting pretty hype. As the night got closer and closer to midnight, the energy level rose. People were getting wild. Shots were poured and consumed, beers were shotgunned, and everyone was either playing a drinking game, dancing, or in a shouting conversation trying to hear each other over the music.
I stuck around for Flip Cup, but noticed Bridget left a while ago. At a different table, I noticed she had paired up with that same guy from before for Beer Pong. And man, did she look like she was having a lot of fun… I chose not to intrude this time since I was in my own game. But I noticed the two had been hanging out for a while.
Once it hit 11:50, everyone wrapped up their games and conversations to settle in front of the TV. Matt turned off the music and blasted the Ball Drop broadcast. I finally caught up with Bridget.
“Hey… you doing okay? Having a good time?” I asked, a little concerned, but more so curious.
“I am!” she exclaimed with tipsy jubilance. “It was like I couldn’t lose in BP!”
I chuckled the tiniest bit. “Yeah… I saw you made a few cups from afar.” Looking across the room I spotted the guy from earlier. “You were… uh… playing with that guy.”
“Yes! I was! That’s Anthony. He’s fucking unreal at BP. You shoulda watched more.”
So Anthony’s his name… is this a guy I should be concerned about? Bridget was certainly having a good time with him, but it’s not like either he or she made a move. Nothing like that. And he looked nothing like me. I was around 5’8” and thin with long hair. He was over 6 feet, muscular, had a light beard, and short hair styled with a bit of product. And I was the one Bridget chose to date.
The ball drop was imminent, so the group loudly shouted at the TV as the countdown began from 30.
“…29! …28! …27!” the group shouted as we all scrambled for our significant others or romantic interests of the night. Bridget and I looked at each other. I gave her a full smile.
“…3! …2! …1! HAPPY NEW YEAR!” The room exploded with cheers, noisemakers, and party poppers. Champagne was raised and clinked. And of course, the New Year’s kiss.
I leaned in for a kiss with Bridget. She reciprocated, but only briefly. More than a peck, but less than desirable. Really? I couldn’t even woo her into a romantic kiss on freaking New Year’s Eve? Ugh…
Unbothered by my romantic woes, the room sang:
“Should auld acquaintance be forgot, and never brought to mind?”
“Should auld acquaintance be forgot, and days of auld lang syne?”
A few people drunkenly stumbled through the lyrics, but everyone got the gist right. It was a classic, traditional start to the new year.
By now, most people were drunk, tired, and ready to get to bed, dreading the nursing of hangovers in the morning. I, however, had agreed to drive home and stayed relatively sober throughout the night (outside of a few beers during the games and a toast of champagne).
I finished my conversation with another friend and looked for Bridget, who’d once again managed to scoot away. And as expected, she was talking to that Anthony guy again. I was too tired to wait her out.
“Hey babe, let’s get going,” I told her, not caring if I interrupted anything with Anthony.
She whipped around. “Babe, I haven’t properly introduced you to Anthony.”
The tall man slowly turned to me and offered up an inviting smile. “Nice to meet you, Justin,” he said, practically oozing charm.
“Nice to meet you too,” I replied somewhat coldly. “I hate to break up the party, but we’re a little tired. Okay if we get going, Bridg?”
“Okay,” Bridget responded emotionless, then turning to Anthony. “Perks of having a DD, right??”
He gave a polite laugh. “We’ll keep in touch.” The two of them hugged. I held Bridget’s hand as we quickly made our way around for goodbyes.
Look, Bridget can talk to whoever she wants. I’m not the jealous type. But seeing her bright blue eyes shimmer while talking to this man, flipping her bouncy, blonde curls… smiling like I haven’t seen in at least a year. I must admit… it was refreshing to see that level of happiness in my girl. Even if I wasn’t the one supplying it.
She fell asleep on the car ride home — a rare, tranquil ride. But amongst the silence, I thought about Anthony’s parting words to her: “We’ll keep in touch.”
Why? And for what reason?
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The remainder of this 18-chapter, ~40,000 word novel is available on Kindle. Link below. I hope you enjoy! It's my favorite one I've written so far :)
Please note, only the first few chapters will be posted here on BCTS.
Link: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0C1PPK25S
