Part 1

Tripped

"A week?" my voice is barely above a whisper as my eyes blink rapidly, trying to suppress the tears which have automatically sprung to my eyes.

Unbelievable. Un-freaking-believable.

I swallow back my anger as he stares back at me, bewilderment etched across his handsome features, the very same features I'd like to claw at.

"You're leaving on a weeklong business trip," I repeat his earlier words and he nods, still completely perplexed as to why I'm having this mini meltdown.

"This wouldn't be the first time, Serena," he speaks slowly, as if I'm a child; a particularly dimwitted child.

I let out an exasperated sigh. This is just like Andrew, completely oblivious to everything going on around him, particularly our relationship.

I take in a deep breath, desperately trying to cling to the remaining shreds of calm I possess. "I know that. Did it ever occur to you that you'll be leaving on the 30th?"

"So?"

"New Year's Eve is our five year anniversary, Andrew! And you'll be gone!" I screech at him, being at my wit's end.

I feel what can almost be described as satisfaction when the realization washes over him, followed by a tidal wave of guilt. He sheepishly runs a hand through his short brown hair, and looks as if he's about to say something. I beat him to it.

"I know. You're sorry," I supply for him, and the corners of his mouth twitch up into a small smile.

"And I'll make it up to you," he promises as he gathers me into his arms.

As I bury my head in his chest, a familiar mantra is pounding within my mind, 'You will not cry, you will not cry, you will not cry...'

"I truly am sorry, Serena," he mutters into my blonde hair.

I soften a bit, yet half of me is cheering on the fact that I've made him feel like complete shit. I disentangle myself from him, and start walking towards our bedroom. Sensing that he has begun to follow me, I look over my shoulder, "Oh, you're still sleeping on the couch."

I brush my teeth and get into baggy old sweatpants before settling into bed with my current novel, as per my usual bedtime routine. However, I'm finding it rather hard to concentrate on Charlaine Harris' words. My inner monologue keeps replacing Sookie Stackhouse's narration with my own irritated thoughts.

I'm furious at myself as it crosses my mind that I've let him get away with this again. Sure, he is going away on business, not a vacation in Bora Bora with some leggy brunette I already hate, and probably doesn't have much say in the matter. However, this situation perfectly sums up our relationship; one problem after another. Whether it be through forgotten anniversaries, missed dates, or botched surprises, I notice a pattern of disappointment, one that has been lurking right under my nose for a while.

I laugh self deprecatingly as I remember how romance-novel-perfect we used to be. The sickeningly sweet duo, hands perpetually interlocked, eyes never leaving each other, that couple. This fleeting trip down memory lane springs forth within my head a different couple.

Darien and Rei had been every bit as much that couple throughout university as Andrew and I. We had shared countless double dates, holidays, and endless nights discussing a utopian future in which we were neighbors, and our children the best of friends.

I had never bothered to share my doubts with either one of them, doubts I had begun to have right before graduation. With the pressures of the real world approaching so quickly,suddenly I wasn't so sure that Andrew was my one and only. But in the end it was far easier to give in to the happy delusions which had been fueling our relationship for years. Plus, how could I walk away when Andrew's overbearing mother was busy picking out apartments for us in Seattle?

I shut my book, having given up on getting any reading done, and toss it on my bedside table. Obviously, I'm feeling reminiscent tonight.

I feel the slightest bit smug when my thoughts turn to the fact that Darien and Rei hadn't made it. But all traces of superiority are wrenched out of me as I recall the horrible conversation I had shared with Darien.

He had called me at work, almost eight months ago, sounding on the verge of tears, an outburst of emotion which was highly unusual for the man. At first, he wouldn't tell me what was wrong, just that he needed someone to be there with him for a few minutes. Of course, I wouldn't have this. Never mind the fact that I felt utterly ridiculous holding the receiver to my head while the other teachers in the lounge shot me odd looks, I had never felt this much concern for Darien, and wanted to make sure it was justified. After less prodding than I thought I'd have to give him, he told me the entire story, leaving me wide eyed and speechless (earning me a few more raised eyebrows might I add).

Darien had planned an insanely romantic night for Rei, with the intent of proposing. I knew that this was something she had wanted for a while, and was about to stutter out my congratulations when I cut myself off. If things had gone well, we wouldn't be having this conversation. Darien went on; he had been completely stunned when, instead of the ecstatic "yes" he had been expecting to pop out from Rei's lips, he had been met with sobs. His proposal had triggered a lengthy confession from the girl, consisting of her, his coworker Dr. Colt, and a bed. For over a year.

My morose musings are cut short by the loud snoring emanating from the next room.

I scoff, 'My Prince Charming,' I think, sarcasm lacing every word.

I shut my lamp, turn over to my side, and try to sleep despite the raucous noise.

Part 2

Pity Party

It's 9:30, with the new year just a few hours away, and I'm trying to think of a time when I was as lonely as I am right now.

Yesterday evening, I drove Andrew to the airport, where he gave me a peck on the cheek, and neglected to say "I love you". Although, I had omitted it as well.

After I had managed to sleep in until the late afternoon, I was still feeling pangs of sadness from that unsettling moment, so I grabbed a bag of Doritos, poured myself a glass of the old merlot we kept in the apartment, and settled down with my favorite movie of all time, When Harry met Sally.

I laughed during the famous restaurant scene, teared up when they fought, and, for the first time ever, got extremely irritated during their New Year's Eve reunion. I abruptly ejected the DVD from its player, cutting off Harry's line, "When you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with someone, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible!"

That scene made me think, and I so desperately didn't want to think. In a bid to achieve this, I poured the rest of the wine down my throat, and proceeded to poor myself another glass.

This chain of events is what led up to me sitting here, at my kitchen table, with nothing but a few wayward drops left in the merlot bottle. I know I have to get out of here, spending New Year's Eve alone is just too pathetic a thing to contemplate. I pull out my cellphone, and flick down the contact list, hoping to find a candidate willing to waste the night away with me.

I scroll over Darien's name, and scold myself for being so stupid. He would be without company as well, not having met anyone since his breakup with Rei. I don't bother to call ahead, and instead grab whatever I can find in the seldom used liquor cabinet (I'm changing that, I suppose) before throwing on my coat and heading out the door.

Its unusually cold out, and snow is falling along with the usual Seattle winter downpour. I immediately curse myself for not having remembered my umbrella, and flag down the first cab I see. Its time like these that I'm glad I live in the city; sure its noisy, polluted, and full of traffic, but there's always a cab around when you need it. I throw myself into the backseat, and stutter Darien's address through my chattering teeth.

The cab driver, who looks to be in his early fifties with his receding grey hair and wrinkled features, winks a faded blue eye at me, "Date?"

I snort and shake my head, and the driver looks a bit taken aback by my response. "Just going to see a friend who is hopefully willing to spend his night with my pity party," I explain.

He chuckles and starts the car, speeding off towards Darien's apartment, which is not too far from my own. The ride if over fairly quickly, and I find myself in front of the beautiful apartment complex my friend lives in. I hand the driver a twenty.

He nods a thank you and then, as I open the door, says, "If this friend wont have you, I should be around here somewhere."

I laugh, oddly flattered despite the inappropriateness of the situation and I shut the car door behind me, waving goodbye. I bound through the building's doors, ignoring the doorman's polite greeting, and stumble into the elevator where I push the number twelve.

I walk down the hall until I reach the familiar doorway. It crosses my mind that I've never been here by myself, before ringing the doorbell.

I wait for a few minutes, losing hope with every second that passes. I resign myself to the fact that I may have to take the cab driver up on his offer, when the door bursts open revealing a panting Darien clad in a hastily buttoned shirt, jeans and wet hair dripping down his neck.

I raise an eyebrow, "Bad time?"

He runs a hand through his wet hair and grins, "I was just getting out of the shower."

His smile drops and he furrows his brow in confusion, "What are you doing here, Serena?"

I shake my head, "Its a pathetic tale,", I nod towards the inside of his apartment, which is looking particularly warm and inviting compared to the damp chill of the city, "Can I come in?"

He backs up against the door, freeing the doorway, and ushers me inside, "Be my guest."

As I cross the threshold, I bite my lip self-consciously, "I'm sorry about dropping by like this, if you have plans I -"

"I'm a doctor Serena, you're one of the only friends I have. How active do you expect my social life to be?" he reassures me with a smile.

I feel my cheeks grow hot, "Well, I don't know. It is New Year's Eve. I thought that, maybe, you'd have a date," I mumble.

He raises an eyebrow, "Speaking of which, where's Andy?"

I cringe at the nickname, having always hated it and pushed for the use of his complete name, and reply, more bitterness in my voice than I had intended, "Trip"

"But isn't it your anniversary?"

I refuse to reply, and instead settle on narrowing my eyes at him.

He chuckles, "I see. In the doghouse I suppose?"

I lighten up, allowing a small smile to grace my lips, "Oh yes."

Desperate to turn the attention off my dwindling romance, I start darting my eyes around the living room, "You don't have some devastatingly beautiful nurse hiding in your closet, do you?" I tease.

"I'm afraid its just me tonight," he laughs and the sound is incredibly comforting.

Darien's gaze is averted to my right hand, and I remember the bottle of amber liquid I've been clutching since I left my own place.

"I had completely forgotten," I extend the bottle towards him and smirk, "I come bearing scotch."

Part 3

Inebriated

I've never liked scotch, but right now, I can't remember why. We've settled on the floor, and I'm leaning against his couch. We're passing the bottle back and forth and laughing hysterically like we used to back in school.

I take another sip, relishing in the pleasant burn of the liquid flowing down my throat, and snicker, "Well, look at us being so festive."

Darien laughs, grabbing the near empty bottle from me, "Perhaps a little too festive," he sets the bottle down on the coffee-table, "I think we should take a break."

I pout, hoping he's joking, and sigh when I realize I'm not getting the scotch back any time soon.

An awkward silence settles between us, and Darien stares blankly into the lit fireplace. This lull gives me time to think, which isn't necessarily a good thing at the moment.

My anger towards Andrew bubbles to the surface of my mind, ignited by the alcohol. He had left, leaving me with no choice but to spend our anniversary with Darien. I feel hope swelling up inside me, childish hope that Andrew will be jealous once he finds out, but its quickly squashed as I remember that he hasn't even bothered to call me. Darien's voice cuts through my melancholy thoughts.

"She had been pushing me to propose," he turns towards me, "Did you know that?"

I shake my head, I certainly hadn't known that.

He chuckles, although there's little mirth in the sound, "She got tired of waiting for me to make it official. As if six years together didn't make us official."

I nodded, "Pressuring you while she was screwing Colt. That bitch," I realize what I've just said and my eyes dart to his face, hoping he doesn't look offended.

To my relief, he lets out a low laugh, "Yeah, screwing Colt."

I start giggling hysterically, "Sometimes I wish Andrew were having an affair, I'd have a valid excuse to break up with him."

Darien's eyes widen in shock, but I'm too drunk to care, and press on, "Five years I've stayed by that man, five years! I'm growing old here."

Darien reminds me that I'm only twenty-six, but I ignore him, "He doesn't seem to care about me unless we're arguing and he's trying to get back into my good graces. He hasn't even called, its our anniversary and he hasn't even called.", I shake my head, "And you want to know the worst part?"

He nods,urging me to continue, "I don't even think I care.", I laugh harshly, "Sure, I'm angry, but when I really think about it, I just don't seem to care. Isn't that awful? Maybe I should have the affair and have him break up with me," I giggle.

Darien stares at me for a few seconds, "You don't hold you liquor very well, do you Serena?"

I burst out laughing, "No, I really don't."

He shakes his head disbelievingly, "I never knew your relationship with Andrew was anything less than perfect," he grabs the momentarily forgotten bottle of scotch and takes a few gulps.

I shrug and grab the bottle from him, thankful for the return of the alcohol, "Well I never though you and Rei would break up. Life's a bitch."

"And so is Rei.", he says immaturely, but I cant help but choke on my scotch as a laugh tries to escape my throat.

I pause, thoughtfully bitting one of my nails, "The fact that its New Year's makes this whole thing so much worse."

He sends me a blank look, "What do you mean?"

"Well,", I take another sip and hand him the bottle, "New Year's is for couples," seeing his confused expression, I prattle on, "You know its true. Look how pathetic we are, simply because we're alone on this stupid, stupid, holiday."

"We're not alone, we're together."

"That's not the same," I exclaim, "You're not buying me flowers, taking me out to some fancy restaurant or party, we're not dancing, we're not staring lovingly into each other's eyes, and you certainly aren't going to kiss me at the strike of midnight."

As if through divine intervention, right as Darien is opening his mouth to argue, the old fashioned grandfather clock in the corner of the living room strikes twelve,the sound reverberating through me.

Darien stares at me,his brows knit together, and I can tell there are thousands of thoughts churning through his mind at the same time. Before I can inquire as to what those may be, he leans over and places a soft kiss on my lips.

Its over before I can even register what's going on, and Darien's face is mere inches away from mine, his dark eyes gaging my reaction. He seems satisfied with what he sees and leans in again.

This time his kiss is more intense, and I find myself responding through my shock, cheered on by the delightful dizziness present in my brain. Movements get bolder as hands travel to places best friends probably shouldn't, especially best friends with boyfriends.

This snaps me out of my daze, and I pry myself out of his arms, albeit reluctantly.

"We can't," I whisper, staring at my feet.

Darien places a hand under my chin, raising my head, and forcing me to meet his gaze, "I'm sorry.", he smiles crookedly, "All this talk about affairs, I figured I'd help you out."

I find myself laughing, and embarrassingly, I feel tears seep into the corners of my eyes, "I'm no Rei."

I pull his hand away, get up off the floor, and grab my coat which is sitting on the corner of the couch.

I lead myself out of the living room, out of the apartment, and down the elevator. He doesn't come after me, and I'm glad for it.

I'm out on the sidewalk, the rain coming down hard, and I hug my coat tighter around me as I wait for a cab to drive by. Thankfully, this happens soon, and I'm crawling into the nice, dry, backseat.

"So, was he happy to see you?"

I'm startled as I come face to face with the same cab driver as before, and although I'm pretty creeped out about it, I find his wrinkly grin bizarrely comforting.

My lips spread into a grin of their own, "Take me home, please."

Part 4

Coffee

I dash towards my classroom, the expression on my face one of panic as I am not used to being late. I dread the chaos which will certainly be awaiting me in A532. Although my experience as a teacher has been a short one, I do know that you can't trust your teenagers to behave unsupervised for long. Hormones and such.

I'm still hiking my way up to the fifth floor, and my breathing is labored as I swear never to wear heels to work ever again. Right as I make this vow, which I know I'll never keep, I hear the melodious ring of my cell phone. I debate answering for a second or two, but give in thinking that no one would call me during class hours were it not an emergency.

"Hel-"

"Serena, you've got to put a stop to this," the voice blurts out in a high pitched squeal, forcing me to hold the phone a few inches from my ear.

I roll my eyes and let out an imperceptible sigh, "Stop what, mother?"

"That awful woman is spreading rumors about you, all my friends are referring to you as 'that horrible little girl who cheated on sweet Andy Wilson'," my mother is seething.

She doesn't have to specify for me to know that she is talking about Mrs. Wilson, my ex-mother-in-law. Strangely, the only part of her rant which I found the slightest bit upsetting was 'Andy'. Honestly, was it so hard to use the whole god damned name? The rest just made me laugh, a reaction my mother clearly hadn't been expecting since I can swear she is growling into my ear.

"What, may I ask, is funny about this? Serena, you're ruining my reputation!" my mother exclaims, and I roll my eyes for the second time during this conversation. It was just so pathetic; trust my mother to make my breakup about her.

"Just let it go. Like it or not, in this situation, I am the evil whore. Its only been a little over a month. I'm sure it'll blow over eventually," by means of reply, I receive an indignant snort, decidedly unfitting for a woman in her late fifties.

"Alright then, love you too. Bye now," I flip my phone shut, faintly glad to be resuming my climb up to the seemingly unattainable fifth floor.

Now that I go over the conversation in my mind, I'm pretty miffed that Andrew has shared every single detail of our breakup with his busybody of a mother. Obviously, I expected Mrs. Wilson to know about the breakup, but couldn't Andrew have sugarcoated it a bit? Guess not.

I suppose I couldn't blame him, he had taken the breakup pretty hard, harder than I had expected. He certainly hadn't expected to come home from his business trip to find me sitting on the living room couch with my bags packed. Yes, I gave up the apartment. There were too many memories, too many strings attached, and not enough closet space for me to bother fighting for it.

I haven't spoken to Darien since New Year's, and I'm not quite sure how I feel about it. Our night together was the kick I had needed to let go of my years of baggage, namely Andrew. I'm not sure if there are real feelings involved, and since he hasn't gotten in touch with me since, I can only imagine there aren't any on his side.

I feel a pang of sadness when I think of the distance between us. He was one of my closest friends, and I've never gone this long without hearing from him. I guess this is why they say friends should never hookup, as this is definitely the awkwardness people speak of.

My legs are screeching in protest as I step up the last few stairs, my muscles are aching and I'm panting. It's ridiculous, I'm not even thirty yet, and I can't get up five flights of steps. I'm glad no one is around to witness my exertion.

I cross the threshold into A532, and am pleasantly surprised. Very pleasantly surprised. I feel a rush of warmth towards my teens as I look into their mildly bored face. They're all sitting, the desks are still in place, and not one of them is yelling.

Abigail, a short redhead in the first row, narrows her eyes at me, "Miss Lafferty? Why are you so sweaty?" she asks, earning snickers from the rest of the class.

The warm feeling I had been experiencing is sucked out of me as if I were a popped balloon, and I smile sweetly, addressing the entire class, "Pop quiz."

I'm thoroughly satisfied with the chorus of groans.

Stupid kids.

A few hours later, I'm sitting in my usual coffee shop, which is just down the street from the school I work at, receiving my afternoon dose of caffeine.

"You're awful!" Mina, my favorite coffee barista, squeals as she hands me my large mocha.

I sigh contently as I take in the first sip of the burning liquid then, when the moment has passed, I shrug at Mina, "Yeah, I know. When I was young I used to hate teachers like me."

She smiles, flashing her brilliant white teeth, and flounces off to serve another customer, leaving me to enjoy my mocha in peace. I pull a magazine out from my purse, and flip through the pages, salivating over all the shoes I'll never get to buy. A teacher's salary is beyond ridiculous. I'd like to know exactly who these FICA people are ,and why they're taking away all of my money. Living on my own for the first time, I need every penny I can get.

"Hi"

I look up from all the Michael Kors goodness, to meet with a pair of familiar dark blue eyes. I sputter some coffee, and feel the pain on my chin as the liquid burns through my skin. Darien hastily grabs a napkin and starts dabbing at the burnt spot, causing my cheeks to flare up in embarrassment.

I wrench the napkin from him, keeping the pressure on my chin, and mumble my thanks. He pulls out the chair opposite me, taking a seat.

"So," I start, wishing to god I didn't look as disheveled as I presently did. When I had imagined (let's be honest, more like fantasized) seeing him again, make-believe me had been wearing stilettos, a tight pencil skirt, and, of course, my breasts had been twice their size. Sitting at a coffee shop in my frumpy work clothes with a napkin held to my blistering chin had never factored into these daydreams. Not once.

"They told me you'd be here, " Darien says, interrupting me.

I raise a questioning eyebrow, "Who?"

He grins, I can swear the man is actually blushing, "Your coworkers."

"Oh"

I'm not sure what to make of this information, not knowing whether I should be happy or irritated, so I don't say anything else. Obvious questions come to mind, why he wanted to know such a thing being at the top of the list, but I don't ask. Instead, I stare at him, and if his fidgeting is any indication, this is making him uncomfortable.

"I suppose you'd like to know why."

Men.

I suppress the urge to roll my eyes, seeing as how this is actually quite cute.

"I know you broke up with Andrew, and I couldn't help but wonder if it had something to do with me," he says, and I feel like dying on the spot, "So, I've waited an appropriate amount of time and I'm here to-"

"To what?" I interject, eagerness getting the best of me. It's clear he's here to ask me out. I know it, he knows it, might as well just say it already. I'm getting oddly giddy, a feeling I haven't experienced in years.

"Would you be interesting in going to dinner. I mean, with me?" he finally asks.

I'm trying not to grin as to not upset my chin which is still seething in pain, "You know Darien, I would really enjoy that."

I see relief wash over him, and it's hard not to giggle. I'm glad he can't tell what I'm thinking, as I'm already going through possible outfits and hair styles in my mind.

His pager goes off, the tune snapping me out of my mental wardrobe. He checks it, and then throws me an apologetic look.

"Hospital. I've got to run. Is tomorrow night alright? Its my day off," he asks, his voice full of hope.

"Definitely"

He leans in towards me and plants a light peck on my cheek. My eyes close as I take in the musky scent of his cologne. I'm filled with memories from New Year's and suddenly turn red as I think that I'd much rather skip dinner and pick up where we left off.

Before pulling away completely, he chuckles, "You might want to put a band aid on your chin."