Worldwide, the most break-ups between couples occur on January first.
Jeffrey knew this statistic - he knew a lot of statistics, thanks to Skye - and it kept popping back into his distracted head that cold, windy night in Cameron, Massachusetts.
He was sitting there, sinking further and further into the well-loved and very lumpy couch, trying to keep his mind on the movie, but it wasn't working.
Of course, it didn't help that the movie wasn't really a movie. It was a documentary so intricate and scientific and complicated that he got lost within the first three minutes and had no hope whatsoever of finding his way back to reasonable understanding again.
He wanted to - he really did.
Skye, he knew from experience, would grasp the entire thing - details and statistics and all - and then want to hold an intelligent conversation about it afterwords over a bowl of ice cream.
Ice cream equaled brain power (at least in her very high-functioning cerebrum) and if you didn't need any brain power because you didn't pay attention to the topic... well, then there was no need for ice cream and you might as well go to bed a failure.
So, yeah. He really wanted to pay attention to the movie.
But his mind kept turning back to New Year's resolutions and whether or not he should go through with it and make the one that had been pestering him for a while now.
New Years was a time of reflection and change and promises to use that reflection to instigate a healthy change.
And glancing over a Skye, her face glowing from the shine of the television screen, he knew what he had to do.
She was tearing him apart, and he needed to move on.
Move on.
Move on.
Move on.
It was going to be hard, but that was part of New Year's resolutions, wasn't it?
Still buzzing over last night's left-over thrill of possible inter-stellar molecular transport (had any documentary ever been so exciting?) Skye flew down the stairs and around the corner at speeds that would have an electron turning green with envy.
Well, not really. They were moving far to fast to emit any visible light that would be caught by the human eye, but still. Even scientists were allowed to use figures of speech, try as she might to avoid them.
And as she slid into the guest room, hopeful to find Jeffrey (who had gone to bed early last night, without even eating any ice cream), she instead caught sight of a bright yellow piece of notebook paper sticking out of a book on his desk.
She would have just written it off as a bookmark, but there was writing on it. And writing on paper jammed in a book was enough to stimulate her curiosity enough that it overthrew even her high regard for personal privacy.
Checking to make sure that he was nowhere around, she approached his desk and opened the book, snatching the paper out of it.
As she read the words in the cramped, tight handwriting she knew so well, she stilled, hardly able to believe what she was reading.
My New Year's Resolution: Fall for a girl who DOESN'T punch me in the nose every time I try to kiss her.
She couldn't help the silly smile that drifted over her face as she recalled the times he had ignored the pain and went through with his plan anyways. She would never admit it to anyone, but Jeffrey Tifton was an incredible kisser.
Smirking to herself, she crumpled the yellow paper and jammed it into her pocket.
Only 8% of all New Year's resolutions actually come to fruition, and she was going to make darn sure that this one never did.
(End.)
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