I wasn't expecting to post another Recess fic so soon after I posted my first one-shot, but when inspiration hits...This takes place in the same universe as my fic The Santa Claus however you don't need to read that for this to make sense. This can definitely read as a one-shot; however if you'd like more information about how TJ and Spinelli got together, that's a minor storyline in the other story.
The gang is now 25 in this fic. If you read The Santa Claus then this is 10 years later.
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Happy New Year!
...
Bringing in a Brand New Year
December 31, 2017
I barely hear the shrill default ding that accompanies an incoming text message on my iPhone over the distinct arena buzzer that Vince has set for his alerts. The likelihood that we're both being texted by two separate people at the exact same time is slim, so I don't reach for mine when I see him pick his up off the table. My assumption that the message is from our group text is validated when he turns around on the couch, away from the football game he's watching, to face me as I sit at the desk.
"Why does she start every text thread with, 'Guess what?'" Vince says, holding up his phone for me to see despite the fact that I can't read it from the distance. I glance down at my lock screen, pressing the home button to see it light up.
Ashley Spinelli 12:10pm
Guess what?!
Vince shakes his head. "I don't know, Spin. You're the one texting me."
I chuckle and see him typing, his thumbs flying across the screen. He sends a message and I look over as my phone dings. The little bubbles pop up on the lock screen, Vince's popping up on top of hers.
Vince LaSalle 12:11pm
You're pregnant
I raise my eyebrow at him and he shrugs. "Maybe she'll just get to the point from now on," he says.
Our phones make another noise and I look down expecting to see her responding, but instead it's Gus. He's sent the "Congrats on the sex" meme, followed by a laughing emoji. I shake my head.
"She's going to kill you both," I say as another ding comes through. Mikey, apparently having just glanced at the messages and not registered the joking nature, has sent a full paragraph of congratulations to Spinelli and TJ.
I finally unlock my phone and put an end to this by asking her to explain. She sends three texts in fast succession.
Ashley Spinelli 12:12pm
Fuck off all of you
No this is so much more important
We're coming for New Years!
The next thing that comes through is a picture of part of a boarding pass. My eyes widen as I scan the picture, trying to identify if it's a joke, but it isn't. All the information is there.
DETWEILER/ASHLEY S
From Baltimore, MD (BWI) to Boston, MA (BOS)
Departing 2:27PM Arriving 3:48PM
Flight 126
I look up to find Vince smirking.
"You knew," I say.
He shrugs. "You guys haven't seen each other since the wedding and we thought it'd be a nice surprise."
It is a huge surprise. The last year and a half has been a major adjustment, more so for Spinelli and me than the rest of our group. When we all went our separate ways to college, Spinelli and I really didn't. While I was at MIT, she was right across the river at Boston College and, unlike many friends who go to schools near each other, we didn't stray far. By the end of our freshman year, I knew her roommates and she knew mine. We'd gone out together plenty during our four years of undergrad and, when we both decided to stay to further our degrees, me starting my PhD program and her attending her alma mater to get her master's in teaching, there was no question that we would live together. Whereas Vince, TJ, Mikey, and Gus were spread out all over the eastern half of the United States, the two of us spent six years pretty much together.
But all good things must come to an end eventually. With TJ working for a senator on Capitol Hill while preparing to apply to law school and Spinelli with a degree useful anywhere, I knew our time would expire with her graduation. She left Boston with a ring on her finger, a wedding to plan, and a new job teaching fourth grade, her dream of becoming a Ms. Grotke to someone like herself now a reality instead of an idea. Her ultimate goal of being a strong female role model to girls who needed one, like she had, was well on its way to fruition.
But between my schedule and hers, as well as the fact that most of her free time was spent planning an Arkansas wedding while living in Washington, DC, the constant contact decelerated quickly. Long chats on the couch with the television on in the background turned into short phone calls while walking to subways and bursts of text messages that typically came while the other was busy. To say that I miss my best friend is an understatement. Despite how happy I am for her, I just wish traveling distance between Boston and DC were more easily voyaged.
Luckily for me the homesickness I felt the first year after she left has been lessened slightly by Vince's arrival to Boston to attend medical school. When Vince decided to enroll at Tufts and started asking me if I had any suggestions for housing, I jumped on the opportunity to be his roommate, as he is not only a great friend, but also someone I genuinely enjoy spending time with. We found a place close to where I need to be at MIT and Harvard, but not an insane commute into the city for him and we moved in June, giving him ample time to adjust to the new city – even with our time spent at home in July for the wedding – before his classes began in early August.
It's been a change, of course, living with Vince rather than Spinelli, but the most important tenants are still there. Yes, there's a lot more basketball on our television than there was a few years back and not nearly as much wrestling, but the actual living together has been an easy transition. The open communication and easiness of living with an individual you've known for two decades is wonderfully similar, different only in the two's personalities.
He's a great traveling partner as well, giving me someone to fly home with for holidays and his spontaneity has been an interesting addition to my life. When he's not busy studying, he'll surprise me by suggesting a day trip to New York to see Mikey's play and I've explored more of the city in the six months he's lived here than I had in the seven years prior.
And, without him, I definitely wouldn't have been nearly as calm flying home with Spinelli's wedding dress. That was a maid of honor duty I didn't realize I'd have to do until she unexpectedly found "the one" when Mikey begged to bring her to a bridal salon in New York on one of the few trips TJ and Spinelli made to visit. We didn't actually expect her to buy anything, given that Mikey and I had to drag her kicking and screaming into the store in the first place, but then she started crying and we had to FaceTime her mom in to see it and there was no backing out after that. Mikey and I spent the entire flight sweating with the nerves that something would happen to it after the flight attendant stowed it away. Vince just leaned back in his seat between us and attempted to ease our nerves – it worked in that neither of us experienced the panic attack that had been threatening since we picked it up from the store, the alterations not quite finished when Spinelli had to leave for Arkansas earlier than us.
My phone is now blowing up with Gus and Mikey and Spinelli all excitedly texting back and forth. We didn't think we'd get a chance to see TJ and Spinelli this holiday season. They hadn't gone home for Thanksgiving or Christmas like the rest of us had. They had hosted the Detweilers for Thanksgiving and then the Spinellis for Christmas.
When Gus had found out he had time off for the New Year's weekend, we all thought it would be a great idea to ring in 2018 together. Mikey lives in New York City and offered a trip to Times Square, but his tiny apartment would be a tight squeeze for six of us. So, instead, Vince and I offered up our place as the meeting spot, our two bedrooms providing plenty of space for all of us. However, fresh off their wedding in July, TJ and Spinelli insisted that coming up for a weekend was out of the cards financially. None of us could really say anything to that.
My screen dissolves and I smile, walking over to the couch to sit with Vince before answering the FaceTime.
"I just spent the last hour in a car blindfolded," Spinelli says when I answer the FaceTime. "I literally had no idea."
"Me either," I tell her.
"We're sneaky like that," I can hear TJ say.
"Yeah, I helped pool some miles," Vince says. I tilt the phone so she can see him. "We weren't going to get together without you two."
"I'm so excited!" she says. "I get to see you! And your new place! And...Vince, I guess."
"Hey," Vince exclaims, but she's sticking her tongue out on the screen.
"That's for the text message earlier, loser."
The phone gets tilted and TJ's face fills the screen. "Hey, we have to go through security, so I have to cut off this love fest," he says with a wink. "We'll see you in a few hours."
We say our goodbyes and their images disappear from our screen.
Vince leans back and smiles. "It'll be nice to be all together again. Like old times."
"We might have to change Secret Santa to New Year's get-togethers," I say.
He thinks about it for a minute. "That could work."
In the seventh grade we began exchanging gifts through Secret Santa on Christmas Eve and we've done it every year since we were twelve. Over the years it's gotten more difficult with exceptions, like TJ and Spinelli not being able to get each other, and shipping these last two years when it's been difficult for some of us to come home. Last year, we were missing Gus, who couldn't get away from the air force base he's stationed at in Louisiana, and this year it was TJ and Spinelli.
It'll be a quick trip, but a much needed one to get all six of us under one roof.
Gus texts us when he and Mikey arrive at the Port Authority bus station, letting us know they're on their way but that their bus is delayed due to the cold weather. The weather this week has been frigid, with temperatures dipping into the negatives at night. I'm not surprised that a bus would have trouble starting in this weather. They finally get moving and say depending on timing, they can just meet us out as neither brought much, only small bags, as they'll be here for less than twenty-four hours before they return to New York.
We've already cleaned in anticipation for their arrival, so the addition of TJ and Spinelli doesn't provide us any more chores. All we really have to do is wait for our friends to arrive. Vince has a football game on so I watch with him. Although I'm not a sports fanatic like Vince, I know the basics having watched him and TJ play four years of high school football.
We flip through a few games, watch an episode of a random sitcom when Vince gives me a reprieve, and then turn back to football when neither of us finds it funny enough to watch the follow-up episode. I don't mind football. I preferred watching Vince and TJ, but Vince talks me through the majority of the games we watch now, so that part is enjoyable if the game isn't.
He has his feet casually stretched out in front of him, on the coffee table we use less as a table and more as a footrest. I mimic his position. We watch as the team loses the ball and it cuts to a commercial. Vince takes the time to stretch his arms, one falling over the couch and his fingers brush against my shoulder.
This has been happening lately and I can't say I mind it. In fact, I tend to find myself expecting it now. The subtle weight is comfortable, warm, and relaxing.
The knock on the door is more of a pound.
Vince stands from the couch, our previous interaction seemingly forgotten, and goes to answer the door. I watch from the couch.
"Vinny!" TJ exclaims before the door's even fully open.
"Teej!"
The two embrace, causing the door to open all the way, slamming against the wall. I know Vince said this was a whole plan to reunite us girls, but they wanted to see each other too.
Beside the two hugging boys, who are excitedly talking over each other about seemingly random events in their lives, Spinelli pokes her head through the doorway and rolls her eyes at me. She pushes passed them and comes to sit beside me on the couch.
"TJ made fun of me the whole way through security for how excited I was, and then he pulls this," she says, gesturing to the boys, who have stopped hugging now and are instead animatedly talking with their hands. "Sometimes, I think he should have married Vince."
"You know, if TJ had married Vince, we could still be roommates," I joke.
"I like the way you think, Grundler," she says, smirking. "He's not as good of a roommate as I am, right?"
"Correct," I say.
"Knew it." Then her face breaks into a genuine smile. "God, I missed this."
Time passes quickly when the four of us are together. We just catch up for an hour before deciding to order in, not wanting to trek out into the cold more than once tonight. When Mikey and Gus finally pull into the bus terminal, they say they're going to grab something quick to eat and then meet us wherever we're heading. We give them the name of bar Vince thinks will be good for everyone. Vince runs into the kitchen after that and returns with four shot glasses and a handle of vodka he grabbed the other day, pouring one for all of us.
"To old friends," he cheers as we clink the small glasses together.
It burns going down.
TJ blows out a breath. "Is this paint thinner? I'm too old for this shit."
"God, Vince, you couldn't have sprung for something a little smoother?" Spinelli groans. She gags for added effect. "I haven't had Ruby since college – and for good reason!"
"Hey, I'm not a doctor yet," he says, picking up the plastic bottle of Rubinoff and motioning for everyone to put our glasses back down. "And this whole handle is cheaper than any watered down drink you'll get at the bar."
It's only a small exaggeration.
"True," she says. "Hit me."
The second one's a little easier. I abstain from the third – I don't drink much and when I do I know it doesn't take much to get me drunk, which I don't want to do tonight. After the third shot, we start to get ready to head out, putting on our heavy coats, hats, and gloves in preparation to brave the cold. Spinelli challenges Vince for one more half shot and then we're out the door, taking public transportation to the bar and then we'll Uber home.
The bar is packed with people when we arrive.
I've never actually gone out on New Year's Eve. During our college breaks we would inevitably be invited to a party at one of the Ashleys' houses and I'd toast with Mikey or Gus, or sometimes both. By the time the ball dropped on the television, we'd always long lost TJ and Spinelli, who never waited until midnight to start kissing, and Vince tended to be back at school by the thirty-first, his basketball schedule truncating his winter break from a month to just a few days. Once I graduated, if I went home I just stayed in with my parents and if I stayed in Boston I watched the television programming while working, since Spinelli spent most of her school breaks in DC with TJ, traveling back with him after Christmas and staying until her classes started back.
In college I worked hard to be where I was – valedictorian of my class at MIT, accepted into a joint PhD program at MIT and Harvard for biomedical engineering – but to do that I sacrificed a bit in the social categories. Work hard, play hard – I worked extremely hard and played a little less. Compared to the others, I've lived along a predictable pathway. I've always been very careful with my alcohol consumption and I've only been drunk once, when I was eighteen and in Ashley A's basement where a bunch of Third Street alums were drinking for the first time and no one really knew how much was enough. I enjoyed going out with my friends, but Spinelli always used to tease me about being the mother of the group – I had a marker to tally the number of drinks I, as well as my friends, were imbibing – so partying for me was more running around making sure no one was getting into too much trouble. The college hook-up culture was also something that didn't particularly fascinate me and I was lucky to have Spinelli in town as she felt the same way, given that I don't think she's ever truly noticed anyone besides TJ. I never much concerned myself with the idea of love and relationships, figuring that would come much like friendships do. But, it didn't happen that way, and it didn't bother me.
At least, not until now, as I look at my friends. Gus holds out his phone, showing us pictures of the ring he has picked out for Theresa. It's not surprising to us. They reconnected the summer after our sophomore year of college, right after she graduated from high school, and have been happy ever since. TJ has his arms wrapped around Spinelli's shoulders, his chin resting comfortably on the top of her head, as she steals the phone to take a closer look. It's not as if I'm the only single member of our group – Mikey and Vince are too this year – but I'm the only one here who has never even been kissed.
I feel a hand on my shoulder and look up to see Vince's face clouded with concern.
"You okay?"
"It's just loud. Hard to hear."
He nods in agreement.
We head to the bar where the boys all grab a beer, though during the course of our continuing conversation I think Spinelli drinks most of TJ's. After a while, everyone else realizes that catching up on each other's lives will have to wait until after midnight, when we're back in the quiet of the apartment. But, Vince picked a bar with a little bit of everything – it's a dive for sure, but there's a dance floor, an arcade area, and a little bit of seating. Before moving onto those areas, TJ says he's going to grab another beer for himself, rolling his eyes at Spinelli who smirks at him, and Vince follows.
"Anyone want to dance?" Spinelli asks. Gus and Mikey both agree. Instead of following them, I turn back to Vince and TJ, taking a few minutes more of the lesser crowding before being surrounded on the dance floor.
TJ and Vince are both leaning against the bar. The girl standing at the bar beside them keeps attempting to get Vince's attention. However, he doesn't seem to notice. Perhaps it's too loud or crowded. Or maybe he's just too focused on what TJ is attempting to say over the noise.
When the bartender comes over to give them their drinks, TJ drops cash while Vince uses a card and TJ turns around. He smiles at me, as if he was planning on seeing me there. He leaves Vince without a word and winks at me before disappearing off into the crowd.
I find it weird that TJ seems drunk – because why else would he wink at me like that – on the amount of alcohol he's had. Tipsy maybe. Maybe that's it.
The girl is still there, sitting on a stool and stirring a pinkish drink with a tiny straw, but Vince is still oblivious to her ogling at him.
Vince was a cute kid, but he's grown into a very attractive man. Everyone notices him for his appearances alone, just like when we were in high school. But the thing about Vince is that it's not just skin deep. When introducing him to friends, I sometimes feel like I'm presenting him on a silver platter with all the wonderful characteristics he has. This is Vince, my very handsome best friend who is studying to be a doctor (so he's smart and kindhearted), and who, by the way, played division one college basketball (what determination!) and is just an overall nice guy.
He turns around, glass in hand, and looks around for TJ first before noticing me. "I think we lost the others," he shouts. Then he leans down closer to me so we don't have to yell. "Wanna find a spot a little less packed?"
Like that – Vince is the life of the party. He's always thrived on being the center of attention and crowds don't bother him. But, he knows this environment is not where I thrive and offers me an out at his expense. And I take it because I'm selfish.
"They're dancing," I say when we've found a relatively quiet area against a far wall. I've spent many a night yanked onto the dance floor by Spinelli in the past. "You could go join them if you want."
"I'm fine here."
As it gets closer and closer to midnight, even our quiet area begins to be encroached with celebrating patrons. I take a step closer to Vince every time someone pushes passed us, alcohol swishing over the edge of the glass. It helps anyway, to stand close, because if we don't we'll be hoarse by the end of the night just trying to have a conversation.
The televisions show the broadcast from Times Square, the ball ready to start dropping in mere minutes.
Our conversation has stopped, the room too loud with people blowing party whistles in addition to the normal sounds of a rowdy bar. When I turn away from the television, I notice Vince leaning down and our noses nearly brush.
"Want a New Year's kiss?"
I can smell the beer on his breath, despite being surrounded by people who are sweating out alcohol fumes. Vince might be at least a little tipsy and that's probably the reason why he asked. Because why would Vince LaSalle ask if he could kiss me at midnight on New Year's? It just doesn't make sense.
Vince is the kind of guy who will marry a kindhearted pediatrician or a beautiful teacher. In fact, for a long time I thought he liked Spinelli and that made sense to me. They're both beautiful. They're both fiery and stubborn. It seems like a good match on paper – if you take TJ out of the equation.
Maybe he knows my inner dilemma that I've just started to confront. Maybe he's attempting to keep me from being twenty-six and never been kissed. I suppose I wouldn't be opposed to a pity kiss if it wasn't Vince. I think that would actually break my heart.
But, instead of just saying no, I say, "You don't need to give me a pity first kiss."
He raises an eyebrow. "What?"
"I know you're just trying to be nice, but you don't need to kiss me just so I can say I've been kissed. I'll be okay."
"Wait, you've never been kissed before?" he asks. I nod. "Why didn't you say anything?"
"I thought you knew."
But how would he? Vince was around the least during our college years, basketball taking the majority of his time during our breaks and when he wasn't busy with that he was taking classes. Especially in our later college summer breaks, he stayed at school taking classes rather than returning home and, if I'm being honest, I wasn't always back in Arkansas either. If I didn't tell him, how would he know?
"I guess I just assumed," he says. Then he gestures out to the masses behind us. "Do you want to try to get kissed at midnight?"
I shake my head. I know that logically a single kiss shouldn't mean much, but I still don't want my first kiss to be with some random person at a bar.
"Okay, wanna see if we can catch an Uber before all the after midnight folks do?"
We decided to split up the Ubers back to our apartment right when we arrived to the bar. With six people, it would be near impossible to find one to fit us all on New Year's and not spend a fortune. Gus is the first person we find and we're lucky to find him as he was coming out of the restroom because there are so many people it may be impossible to reach the rest. So, we grab Gus and send a message to the group text saying we'll meet them back at the apartment. TJ responds that they're getting ready to go too and they'll be right behind us.
And they are – they open the door just as the three of us finish removing all our heavy winter outerwear.
TJ and Mikey stop in the doorway to remove their coats, but Spinelli just charges straight for the couch, situating herself between Vince and me, and wraps her arms around my waist in a snuggle. I'm grateful for the divide between Vince and myself, still shaky from the idea of the pity kiss, and the chance to focus on Spinelli is a nice reprieve.
"Gretchen, I'm so happy we got to spend tonight together even if you disappeared and left me alone," she slurs.
Having gone to colleges right across the river from each other and then living together for two years, drunk Spinelli isn't something I've never seen before. The issue we always seem to run into with her is that she does not outwardly appear drunk until she's too far gone. It is almost as if there is a singular tipping point she reaches where she flips a switch between sober and drunk, completely bypassing tipsy to anyone watching her. If I hadn't seen it with my own eyes multiple times, I'd say it was physiologically impossible.
"Holy shit, she's trashed," Vince laughs.
TJ comes over and tries to tug her away from me. "Spin, you gotta take your coat off. I promise, Gretch isn't going anywhere."
"But she's my best friend and I love her."
Vince, Mikey, and Gus all share a laugh as TJ lets out a frustrated breath. "It took us ten minutes to get the coat on," he says quietly to me. "I hope for your sake it doesn't take that long to get it off."
"Spin, she's gonna sweat to death if you don't take the coat off," Vince says.
She leaps off me and sways a little, nearly tripping over the couch, but TJ catches her. She laughs hysterically.
"How much did she drink?" I ask.
Mikey sits down in one of the armchairs. "We don't know. We spent the ride back trying to get her to tell us but she just kept saying she didn't know and that she had to ask Gus."
"Oh, yeah, Gus!" she shouts. "How many did we shot at the bar?"
"You mean how many shots did we take at the bar?" Gus clarifies. She nods, head bobbing all the way back and all the way down. "I think about three-ish."
"Okay, so I had three shots here, that manys there, and then I stole your beer," she slurs to TJ. "So, that much drunk."
"Well, this is going to be entertaining," TJ says as she prances back to her spot on the couch beside me. "Gus, what the fuck?"
He puts his hands up. "She lied. She said you guys didn't pregame."
I look down at my best friend, who is hugging me as tightly as she can. "How are you doing?"
"TJ. Who are you doing?" she asks, so seriously despite her slurring.
The boys can't contain themselves. Gus nearly falls out of his chair laughing and despite his red cheeks TJ chuckles, shaking his head. Vince throws his head back and through his laughter says, "Someone get my phone. I need to record this."
She pouts. "Why is everybody laughing?"
"Come on, let's get you something to eat," I say.
"I can deal with her," TJ says, his eyes darting over to Vince quickly before returning his attention to me. "You're hosting us."
I shake him off. "No, it'll be like old times. We've done this before."
"Yeah, we girl chat, Teej," Spinelli slurs.
She tries to wink at him but she just ends up shutting one eye and he rolls his in response.
"Okay, you girl chat. We'll boy talk," he jokes. Then he looks at me. "If you want a reprieve, just yell."
She won't unlatch herself, even as I try to stand, so the two of us twist and turn until I can carry her on my back. It takes us a second to finagle the situation and out of the corner of my eye I can see Vince with his phone out, probably videotaping the whole process, possibly preparing to SnapChat it to our old school acquaintances. Every now and then, we get an entertaining video or picture snapped to us from people from home. This one in particular would garner plenty of laughs. I think she surprised everyone when we were first experimenting with alcohol in Ashley A's basement the summer before we all left for college. Who would have ever guessed that the bruiser of our playground crew would out-affection Mikey while intoxicated?
Right now is no exception – she must look more like my backpack than an actual person, her legs wrapped tightly around my waist, her arms nearly strangling me. Luckily she weighs barely a hundred pounds so she's easy to lift.
I drop her off my back at the kitchen counter and reach into the refrigerator to grab a water bottle. I hand it to her as I start to make some toast.
"Gretchen?"
"Yeah?" Her eyes are so bloodshot and she just sort of stares at me for a minute, not speaking. "How are you feeling?"
"Drunk." She takes another sip of water. "I miss you."
"I miss you too."
"I miss talking to you."
We talk all the time. We're constantly texting back and forth, and we've made it a point to call each other at least once a week. But, it's not the same.
"I do too."
She motions for me to come closer to her and she puts her mouth to my ear, her hand covering it like little girls do to tell each other secrets. "I live with a boy," she says.
"Yes, you do," I whisper back with a chuckle in my voice.
"You live with a boy, too," she says in my ear.
"It's a little different than you and your boy," I say.
"Do you like your boy?"
She's drunk so answering her question almost feels like saying it into a void. I'm not entirely sure if she'll remember what I say in the morning anyway. Taking a quick look over my shoulder, I see the boys in conversation, not paying any attention to the two of us. What can it hurt?
I nod my head. She smiles and claps her hands.
"You should kiss your boy."
"Ashley Spinelli, you know that's not how that works."
She leans back and puts her hands on her hips. If I weren't afraid she was going to teeter off the counter, I'd find the pose hilarious.
"The name is Ashley Detweiler," she states. Tries to state.
I often forget that she legally took TJ's name when they got married and pushed Spinelli to her middle name. She's still Ashley Spinelli in my phone and that's how I think about her subconsciously. It's a hard transition, considering that I've known her for twenty years as one name and suddenly overnight it changed. Not to mention that none of us have moved on to call her Ashley. She says it's weird to her to hear us casually call her Ashley so we don't, but it can get confusing. When we were in college, I'd meet up with her and her roommates occasionally and they'd call her Ashley. Half the time I started looking around for another girl.
"Okay, Ashley Detweiler, not all of us can just kiss our roommates. You are married. Vince doesn't even like me."
"Vince does like you." She rolls her eyes. "Duh."
"Yes, of course. He's one of my best friends. But he doesn't like me like that and you know that."
"But TJ said," she mumbles. She claps her hand on her mouth and I can barely make out the next word. "Secret."
"What's a secret?"
She blinks and for a second I think she might throw up.
"Are you okay?" She doesn't respond. "Do you need to throw up?" She shakes her head, so I repeat, "Are you okay?"
She lets her hand fall to her side. It slams into the counter with a loud thwack.
"I need to tell you a different secret."
I lean in close and she wraps her arms around my neck. She comes in so close it almost looks like she is going kiss me.
"Spinelli?"
"You can't tell TJ." We'll see. I nod anyway. "I took a test yesterday."
It dawns on me what she's talking about right before I'm about to ask what sort of test it was.
"Are you talking about a pregnancy test?" She nods. "I assume it was negative."
She affirms my statement. "We said no babies now," she slurs.
"Well, it was negative, so you are not pregnant and there is no baby." Her eyes well with tears. "Does that make you upset?"
She nods her head. "But it's not part of the plan."
I sigh. We all know TJ and his plans. He has been planning since we were small and it hasn't stopped. If anything, it's gotten more intense. He and Spinelli have so far followed the plan they made while we were in college – he would propose to her after she graduated with her master's, check; in the year between the proposal and their wedding he would apply and get into law school, check; they would get married in July right before he started his first year and her school year started, check; now they're in the three year law school section where they're attempting to accumulate as little debt as they can. Ideally, in their perfect plan, TJ will graduate, sit for the bar in DC and in Arkansas, and get a stable job and then they'll start attempting to build their family and, at some point prior to their first child's fifth birthday, they'd like to move back home.
It all sounds like a wonderful plan in theory. I've never been in her situation before but I can imagine the emotions she probably had – not wanting to let TJ's plan down but also being sort of excited. They both really want kids, they're not shy about saying it, and we may tease them about being pregnant but their future baby may be the most loved baby to ever be born.
No wonder she decided to become completely inebriated tonight.
"The subconscious is something you can't really control."
She raises an eyebrow. "Huh?"
She's too drunk for this logic, so I just hug her instead.
"Hey, girls!" I keep a hold of her and turn my head to look through the doorway. The boys have rearranged the room and blown up the air mattress we keep under the couch. "We're gonna have a sleepover. Come on – scary story time!"
"Hold on!" I shout back. "Start without us."
I turn back to Spinelli. She still has tears streaming down her face and her eyes are slightly out of focus. I reach for a clean washcloth and wipe her face.
"You're so nice," she slurs, her voice having lost the drunken pep and now just flat. It might be partly due to the conversation we just had, but I think she's just losing steam fast. "I love you, Gretch."
"I love you too, Spin."
"I'm tired."
I had a feeling she was going to say that.
"I need you to eat this toast and drink the rest of this water and then you can go to sleep, okay?"
The toast is cold when I take it out of the toaster, having popped up sometime during our deeply intoxicated conversation, but it doesn't matter to her. She nibbles slowly, then takes a tiny sip of water, and then takes another small bite. She has a couple more sips to go when I hear heavy footsteps come into the kitchen and TJ comes to stand beside me.
"How you doing?" he asks her.
Her eyes find mine. "Sad. Tired."
"She only has a little sip of water left, but I'd like her to drink it all," I tell him. He nods and turns to her, putting on a big grin.
"You know what, your favorite scary story is being told in the living room right now and if you take one last sip we can go listen to it," he says, pushing a stray hair behind her ear. "How does that sound? Good?"
She takes the final sip and TJ carries her back into the living room, letting her curl up in his lap and press her face into his chest. He strokes her hair as he listens to the story Vince is telling. It's hard sometimes not to be jealous of the two of them and how lucky they were to find each other so young and without much effort.
Unsurprisingly, Spinelli is the first one down, but Gus doesn't stay up too much later than she does. He spends about five minutes fighting it before he shuts his eyes and doesn't open them again, falling asleep on the air mattress beside Mikey. Mikey entertains us with stories of his many auditions in the New York theater scene and as he's telling us about a Les Mis audition he had a few months back, Vince adjusts himself on the couch so he's lying down, his legs over the arm and his head nearly falling into my lap. He's out not too long after.
I steal a glance back at the chair and find TJ still awake. He smirks at me, wiggling his eyebrows, but I'm unsure exactly why. Spinelli is dead to the world but it's not like she's snoring or sprawled out in an odd position. She's curled up tightly against him. Mikey's voice is fading quickly and Gus has turned into him, an arm thrown carelessly over our thespian friend, mouth wide. Maybe that's why – that's sort of funny.
I'm not sure who goes next, but when I wake up it's morning.
I am no longer sitting up on the couch, instead I've rearranged in the night to extend along the length of it. Vince is gone, as are TJ and Spinelli. Mikey and Gus still lay on the air mattress, Mikey on his back and Gus sprawled in every which direction, a mess of legs and arms.
There's a small crash in the kitchen. I think I've found the rest.
Vince is alone, pulling out the pans as quietly as he can as to not disturb those of us sleeping in the living room. I lean against the doorframe and wait until he sets the frying pan on the counter before announcing my presence, not wanting to shock him into dropping the pan. He turns and grins.
"Morning," he says.
"We're missing two from the slumber party," I say, nodding my head to where Gus and Mikey are still sleeping.
Vince pulls out the big metal mixing bowl. "They're in my room. Spin woke up with the spins–" he snorts "–so I told them to take my bed so they wouldn't wake everyone up." He turns back with a smirk. "I did, however, tell them that if they make a baby in my bed, they have to name it after me. It's only fair."
"You're lucky she was too drunk to respond," I say. Especially after the revelation last night, I'm not sure exactly how she would have reacted.
He shakes his head. "Oh, no, I got a book chucked at my head. She missed because she had the spins, but she made her point." He chuckles. "She's just too easy."
"The two of you are good at antagonizing each other."
"Must be what it's like to have a sister," he jokes.
"I always thought it was because you liked her."
I don't necessarily mean for him to hear it, but I do say it aloud. His face morphs instantaneously from the relaxed jokester to awed disbelief.
"What? Seriously?" he asks.
I shrug. It's out there now. Time to come clean. "Off and on through middle and high school."
I believe he thought I was joking originally, but now that he knows I'm serious, he almost looks angry with me.
"Why would you think that?"
"You were Mr. Popularity and yet you never had a serious girlfriend. You always looked out for her, almost more than any of the rest of us. Deductive reasoning would conclude it."
"You need to stop thinking so logically because you're missing some huge details between the lines," he mutters. Then he shakes his head and returns to his normal talking voice. "Yeah, I was Mr. Popularity, but I was also Mr. Conceited in high school. I was too focused on myself to be a good boyfriend and every girl I dated figured that out real quick."
"Vince, you're one of the nicest guys I know."
"Now, maybe, but I was not my best self when I was seventeen, that's for sure," he says. "I wasn't ready to put other people ahead of myself. I had one goal and that was to be in the NBA and nothing was higher on the totem pole than that."
When I think back, I do remember his crazy fitness schedules and his nutrition schemes, doing anything and everything he could to optimize his chances of playing basketball professionally. While we all had lofty goals in elementary school for our future careers, Vince never adjusted his despite the overwhelming odds against him. He just worked harder.
He continues.
"And then I got to college and I learned more about who I wanted to be as person and I grew up. I started to see that TJ was right – it's not the destination that's the important part, it's the people that help you get there, and I guess I realized that the NBA wasn't really worth it if I didn't have any real relationships when I got there."
"That's why you didn't do pro basketball?"
"That and I wasn't exactly going to be the next LeBron James," he jokes. "No, I just, it was a little burnout, a little bit of reality, and a little of wanting to do something that I found meaningful."
I remember when Vince told us he wasn't going to be in the draft. Everyone had been shocked. The whole town really had thought Vince would go pro. People had been saying it for years, starting when we were in high school even. I think he even surprised his parents when he started taking prerequisite classes over the summers as his basketball schedule didn't allow him the time to complete all the required classes for medical school.
But, if Vince is anything, he's determined. It took him two years postgrad before he felt confident in his application, but when he submitted he received interviews at nearly every school he applied to and he'd ultimately chosen Tufts. He said it was because it just seemed like a good fit – plus he said he wanted to see what exactly it was about Boston that had kept me and Spinelli here for years.
"As for looking out for Spin, someone has to. She doesn't think before she acts." He waves his arms in the air, gesturing out toward the living room, as he talks. "Case in point, she went shot for shot with Gus last night. Who thought that was a good idea? Mikey and Gus have never been able to sway her opinions and TJ's been dick before logic with her since fourth grade so...just call me her Fairy God-Buddy."
I can't help but laugh at the image of Vince as a guardian angel or a fairy godmother. He smiles too. When the laughter fades, he continues.
"So, no, to debunk your theory, I never liked Spin like that and I'm not just saying that because the two of them are in the next room, happily married," he says. He blows out a breath and chews on his next words for a second before he says them. "It's because I liked another girl in high school who, apparently, thought I had a huge crush on Spinelli."
"Who?"
"Oh my God," he mutters, running his hand over his face. "You're smarter than this. Use those deductive reasoning skills I know you have."
"Ashley Q?"
It's the first name that comes to mind. She was always jealous of Spinelli. There were times when I thought that perhaps she liked TJ or that she was upset that Ashley A and Ashley B had gotten boyfriends and when Spinelli did too she couldn't stand it. But, maybe it's because she noticed the same things I noticed and incorrectly assumed, like I had, who Vince liked.
He shakes his head. "You."
I feel as though my brain glitches for a second, unable to process the information. I figured that Vince had probably liked me at one point – naturally, in elementary school, I think we all liked each other at one point or another but those crushes never lasted longer than a day or two. Those were just crushes of convenience.
But, high school...that's something I never expected to hear.
"Why didn't you say anything?"
"Well, first off, I didn't think you liked me and Mr. Conceited was not ready to be rejected," he says. "But, I think, even though I wouldn't have been able to put my finger on it when I was seventeen, I knew that even if you did like me I wasn't ready to be what you deserved."
"Deserved?" I ask. "What are you talking about?"
"You deserve TJ," he says. Then he pauses, realizing what he said isn't what he meant, and shakes his head. "Well, not TJ, but a TJ, someone whose sun rises and sets because of you and who is willing to do anything to make you happy. And that definitely was not me."
Suddenly, Spinelli's drunken slurs last night are making a little more sense. I hadn't believed her, but...I still don't really trust my perception of the situation.
"Is it now?" It's a bold question, but one I need to know.
"Huh?"
"I just, I'm a little confused as to why you're bringing up the past if it doesn't correlate to the present."
He grins. "There's that deductive reasoning," he says. "So, I have a confession to make. Teej and Spin aren't here because we wanted to surprise you both. Yeah, I mean, it worked out great as an excuse because they didn't go home for Christmas with us, but TJ and I actually bought the tickets the night before the wedding."
When TJ and Spinelli got married five months ago, we had four hotel rooms for the wedding party. Mikey and Gus were sharing. Vince and I, the best man and the maid of honor, had another. Spinelli's college roommates had a room to themselves. Obviously, the bride and groom had the honeymoon suite. The night before, TJ and I switched rooms so Spinelli and I had the honeymoon suite for a grown-up slumber party while Vince and TJ each had a full bed a few doors down. We figured they were playing video games or watching The Office through the hotel's Netflix setup, but apparently the two of them were scheming. I can't say I'm surprised – TJ always has multiple plans up his sleeve at all times.
"When I chose Tufts and we moved in here in June, I swear that I thought I had outgrown my high school crush," he continues. "But, I guess I didn't. Or maybe I did and it just had a rebirth. I don't know. But when I asked Teej about it, because I wasn't sure if it was just because we'd been living together for a month or if it was really true feelings, he basically gave me an ultimatum – I had to tell you before the end of the year or he would. So, these tickets were more to keep me accountable than to reunite you and Spin."
No wonder TJ spent the whole night winking at me. And his unusual frustration with Spinelli must have been because he thought she was ruining his plan. His behavior makes so much sense now too.
"I'm sorry if this makes our living situation awkward at all, but I just...after last night I just wanted to put it out there and see. If you don't like me, that's fine. I will move on. I won't be bitter about the friend-zone or whatever. But, I just..." he shrugs. "I want you to know that I didn't almost kiss you because I was drunk or out of pity or whatever you said. I wanted to kiss you."
I typically pride myself on being intuitive, but this is humbling because I didn't see this coming. Now I understand how Gus felt when TJ and Spinelli got together. Like he said, I didn't see this coming at all.
"Really?" I ask. Not because I don't believe him, but I can't believe it and I don't know what else to say.
"Yeah."
"You like me?"
"I don't know why you find this so hard to believe."
"You're you," I splutter. He's Vince LaSalle. That is evidence enough.
"And you're you," he counters. He crosses his arms. "Gretchen, stop overthinking this. My feelings are my feelings. They're not rocket science. It's not because your eyes are a certain distance apart or...or because there's some checklist of traits. I like you because you're you and everything goes into that."
I look down at my feet. I can't believe he remembers that. Back in the sixth grade, after I overheard one of the Ashleys ranking girls in terms of their prettiness and heard my name down toward the bottom, Vince had noticed my sudden change in demeanor. When I told him what I heard, he shook it off as the Ashleys being mean, but I insisted that attractiveness is actually scientific, how certain face proportions are more pleasing to the eye than others, and that they were right. He still shook me off and told me that there's more to being pretty than just your face and the Ashleys may have pretty faces but they're zeros in my book.
And Vince doesn't think he was a good guy in until after college. Maybe we're both not as self-aware as we thought we were.
I swallow my self-doubt and ask, "So, what is the logical next step if we both...like each other?"
He grins. "I think that would be going out on a date."
I raise an eyebrow. "We live together. We're basically on a date all the time, aren't we?"
"No, I mean like a real date," he says, shaking his head. "We go out to eat or we go to a movie or some other activity and we hold hands and act all nervous around each other. Just because we live together doesn't mean we have to jump right into anything all at once."
"That sounds nice."
He points his thumb to the living room. "Yeah, we just need to send these bozos home and we can go." We both share a laugh. "And maybe, at the end of the date, I could kiss you at the door."
"Okay, it's a date."
We grin.
There's a crash in the living room, followed by laughter. We take a second longer by ourselves before we go see what's going on in the other room. Mikey and Gus are now awake, both sitting up on the air mattress and laughing. TJ stands in the doorway to Vince's room, arms crossed and shaking his head. Which leaves Spinelli, whose feet we can see dangling over the edge of the couch, the rest of her obscured by the back of it. Vince and I both lean over the back of the couch and see she's found his sunglasses and put them over her eyes. Her arms fall limp at her sides.
"Morning, Sunshine," Vince teases.
"Stop yelling," she groans.
"I told her last night that she would be less hungover in the morning if she would just puke," TJ says cockily. "But, does she listen to me? Nope."
"Spinellis don't puke. We can hold our liquor, thank you very much," she grumbles.
Vince looks up at the rest. "So, I was going to make pancakes, but," he pats Spinelli's dangling feet, "might need something a little greasier, huh? What about bacon and eggs?"
"Keep talking about food and I'm going to upchuck all over your couch, LaSalle."
Gus frowns. "I thought you just said Spinellis don't puke."
"Apparently my stomach became a Detweiler."
Laughter erupts and TJ jokingly glares at her, but he's grinning, glad to see she's feeling better than she was. She can't be too hungover with that quick wit.
"All right, well, maybe you'll feel less like upchucking when it's finished," Vince says. Then he looks up at TJ. "Wanna help?"
Mikey and Gus share a look. I know that he asked TJ and not the other two so he can tell him about what just happened in the kitchen. Otherwise, if he were just asking for cooking help, TJ would be the last person to help. TJ may be great at some things – cooking is not one of them.
"If you don't mind shells in the eggs," TJ jokes, following Vince into the kitchen. He looks at me and then back at Vince as he walks, and I know he's trying to figure it out.
"Do you need water or anything?" I ask Spinelli as the boys disappear.
"You just want to follow Vince," she sasses. "But thanks for making it look like you care about me. Appreciate it."
"What's she talking about?" Gus asks.
Mikey looks over with wide hopeful eyes. I think I hear TJ say, "Yay!" in the kitchen, but I can't be sure. The wall may be interfering with my auditory skills.
"So, did you kiss the boy like I told you to do?" Spinelli asks.
I shake my head. "Not yet, but soon."
Everything is still new. We've got plenty of time.