L.A 2020 GUEST HOUSE

L.A is once again, blanketed in a springtime storm. But although thunder is rattling the foundation of the guest house, it's dark, and fairly quiet inside tonight. Bo sits on a nearby stool, strumming on the guitar, in the faint glow of the set lighting he orchestrated, so we could both work comfortably. I sit on the floor, my back leaned against the bed, typing vigorously, catching up on the screenplay I need to get into the studio in a matter of days.

I glance over my lap top, from time to time, watching Bo scribble down chords on nearby paper. The wheels in his mind, seeming to never slow down. I notice an email pop up from my editor, saying he tried to reach me earlier, and I start glancing around, realizing I hadn't seen my phone for hours. I eventually find it, laying in the open luggage that I brought back from the hotel, earlier in the day.

"SHIT!" I say, realizing I have a dozen missed calls from Chris. Bo's head snaps up from the guitar, watching me scramble to get my trembling fingers to type in my passcode correctly. Finally, I take a deep breath after hitting call, and plop down on the bed.

Chris picks up immediately. "Oh, look. She's alive."

"Hey! Chris. I'm so sorry I missed your calls—"

"I know you're with him, Sidney," he says quickly. My heart suddenly hammers and I feel lightheaded. I open my mouth to speak but no words will come out. "I started to get worried when I couldn't reach you by the sixth time I called. So, I checked the location on your phone."

Bo has caught on to what's happening. His intense gaze landing on my face, trying to read every detail.

"I want to hear YOU say it though, Sidney. I would like to hear it from you, rather than being told by my FUCKING COMPUTER SCREEN!"

I flinch as he yells, feeling tears. "I- I'm- I'm with him," I say, my voice trembling so violently, I barely get it out.

Bo sets his guitar down by the stool, propping his chin on his palm, nervously drumming his fingers on his mouth. I listen to a few seconds of silence on the other end of the line.

"It's funny, you know? I had this feeling in the back of my mind, and part of me almost refused to let you go. Your brother warned me about him, a while back. He said you guys were wrapped up in each other for years, and that for some reason, as smart as you are, he makes you mindless. But it'd been five years since you'd seen him and you're the most sensible girl I've ever met. So –I chose to trust you."

"Chris, I'm so sorry," I say, looking to the floor, through tears.

"What exactly are you sorry for Sidney? Lying to me? Sleeping with him? Because I'm assuming you've done that."

"Chris, I didn't think this would—"

"You're FUCKING RIGHT, you didn't think! I can't fucking BELIEVE you, Sidney!"

My face falls into my hand and I let out a sob. Chris doesn't deserve this. I should've known better when I left New York. I'm an honest, loyal person by nature, but Chris is not the first guy I've cheated on and lied to when it comes to Bo. I'm a monster, recklessly in love, and leaving victims in my wake.

"We have a life together here," Chris says, quietly.

"I know."

"I feel like I do everything possible to make you happy."

"You do."

"I love you, Sidney."

As if I haven't tortured Chris enough, I look up at Bo, head slightly tilted, entirely deflated and I find myself unable to answer the way Chris wants me to.

"I know."

I hear Chris laugh under his breath. "He's there with you right now, got it, that's fantastic. Well, It looks like you have a decision to make, if you haven't already." He pauses for a brief moment, totally unaware of the complicated state of Bo and I. It isn't about my decision. It isn't just about me. "You're clear to fly in a few days. Come home. If you're even a day late, I'm gone." Then, the call ended, immediately.

I sat for a moment, with my hand pressed to my forehead, crying at the blank screen. What did I think was going to happen? Of course he found out. Even if he didn't, he would have, when I got home and told him the truth.

"I'm sorry Sid," Bo says quietly.

I look up, meeting his apologetic expression "Sorry for what?" I say wiping the tears from my eyes.

"So many things," he answered. He tilts his head, crossing his arms. "But, mostly that the world finally found its way inside."

I nod. "Yeah, I suppose it did."

"You okay?"

I pause for a moment and then shrug. "I don't know."

Something changes on Bo's face. The sad, apologetic look drops off in an instant, cold arrogance taking its place as he raises his head.

"What's the deal with this guy?"

My brows pull together in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"I know you've been with him for a few years, so, what holds you two —together, I guess?"

"I don't know, he's a good guy, he's really nice," I say.

He raises his brows, As if he's waiting for me to continue.

I stand up, suddenly feeling frustrated. "I guess it's—" I pause looking around the room for the words, then back to him. "He's simple, I guess. And I don't mean dumb, he's highly intelligent, I just mean he's not complicated. He's—"

"Boring?" Bo says, smugly.

I feel a tick of irritation, "Bo, not everyone can make a living being an eccentric, musical comedy, artist, okay?"

Bo stands, quickly closing the space between us. "But what is it that makes you LOVE him, Sid? What makes you WANT him? What about him MOVES you?"

"Jesus, I don't KNOW! It's not that easy!"

"But shouldn't it be?" His eyes soften.

I shake my head, huffing a laugh. "Why are you asking me all of this? Seriously, you need to cut the shit, Burnham. You don't mind asking me anything, but you insist on walling off the parts of your life that you don't want to talk about. So how about this, have you even spoken to Elle? I haven't seen you on your phone once, not even texting."

His expression doesn't change as he stands there like a freeze frame for a moment. Then his shoulders fall with a sigh. He rakes his fingers slowly through his hair, taking a few steps back and sitting down on the stool. After a few a few seconds, he looks up at me.

"Okay, um. I didn't tell you the whole the truth, about Elle. She IS staying with her sister, in Maine. But, it's not because I'm busy," he says, crossing his arms. "Her and I got into it, sometime last month. She left. Said she'd be back when she cools off," He glances up at my slack jawed expression and shrugs. "I'm sure there's a motive in it somewhere, OR it's some kind of test she's giving me, without the fucking questions. That's her specialty."

I stand there, trying to process all of this, but also somewhat panicking. He's ACTUALLY talking about Elle, and I've had so many questions for so long, I'm trying to think of them all before he slams the door shut on the subject. Again. But I decide to follow up on the current topic. Be cool, Sidney.

"Okay, so—what did you guys fight about?"

"Oh, no. It wasn't a fight. It was an argument. Elle and I never fight. The shit you and I do, Sidney, THAT is FIGHTING."

I feel my heart sink and I look away.

"Hey," he says. I look back at him, trying not to act like a baby. He grins. "I didn't mean that in a bad way, Sid. Trust me. With Elle and I, it's more like –a hostile indifference."

"What did you argue about then?" I urge.

He sighs, raking his hair back. Both hands this time.

And there's the eye's full of thought.

He's quiet for a moment. I can tell he's trying to choose his words carefully. But why?

"It's been a variety of things for a long time. Um… let's see- She needs more attention. We don't joke around with each other enough. I hate that stupid, Disney castle, of a house out there, but she says it 'establishes a professional presence.' Uhh, -there's the creative differences. OH! HAND towels! Yeah. FUCKING hand towels. It wasn't because we couldn't decide on a pattern. It was because of my piss poor attitude about NOT GIVING A FUCK ABOUT HAND TOWELS!"

I can't help but to laugh, as he shakes his head, clearly still worked up about it. But the question still remains and I'm determined to get the answer. So I'm overly direct with my question.

"Okay. But -what was THE argument. The one that caused her to leave, until she cools off?'

He looks at me for a moment, realizing I'm not going to back down.

"She wants to get married," he says quietly.

"Oh." I say simply, as my heart falls right out of my chest and onto the floor.

He studies my eyes carefully, but continues, "She's been on me about it for a couple of years. And, I just kept telling her, I didn't understand why we have to sign legal documents to be in a relationship. I guess -it just, uhh -came to a head. So, now she's in Maine. -Until she cools off."

I'm right on the verge of a panic attack and I start imagining how fucking embarrassing it would be to die on his guest house floor. The idea of asking him if he's considering it, makes it only worse. So I move on.

"You asked me about Chris and you've never even met him. I've met Elle, as you know. She's catty, and pretentious. She's an outright bitch and she treats you like a child. So, what is it, Bo? What makes you -love her?"

I honestly don't know why I just asked this question. Right now, the only place I want to be is NOT right here in front of him. I feel like I'm ripping apart from the inside out. Bo isn't looking much better off. He looks exhausted and his eyes are begging me to stop torturing him. Or they may be begging me to stop torturing myself. Or both.

"When I met her, I was—lost." He sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. "She kind of -helped me redirect my complete nose dive into my work. And then when I broke again, she didn't give up on me, you know? I walked away from the stage, and she was there, waiting patiently while I had a massive existential crisis -for five years."

I nod, robotically. I'm breaking. I breaking into pieces. Between Chris and now this, it's far too much to handle in the moment.

Bo's expression grows concerned as I continue to nod.

"Sidney?"

"What?" I bend over, resting my hands on my knees, trying to catch my breath. Oh my god, I'm about to die…

I hear the stool scrape against the floor. "Sid, hey—Look at me," Bo's suddenly standing in front of me. I shake my head, still bent over, clutching at my chest. I wave him away. He quickly sits down, legs criss cross on the floor, pulling me into his lap, by my hips.

"Bo, stop. I can't breathe," I argue.

"I know," he says. He pulls my back into his chest and wraps his arms tightly around me. "Take a deep breath." He demanded. But all I could do was continue to hyperventilate. He rested his chin on my shoulder. "Sidney, take a deep breath," he said softly next to my ear. I managed to draw in a breath. "Now breath out slowly." I let out a slow, shaky exhale. "Now let's do that a few more times, okay?"

We sit for a few quiet minutes, the only sound is my slow, inhales and exhales, and the rain, beating against the roof. After a while, I begin to relax, at least enough to escape certain death.

"You're okay, Sid" he says quietly. I'm more aware of my senses, and I close my eyes, feeling the weight of his chin on my shoulder, his arms wrapped around me, and the secure feeling of my back against his chest.

"I gave up on you," I nearly whisper.

"What are you talking about?"

"She didn't give up on you, but I did. The night I broke up with you. I should have stayed. I shouldn't have left just because it got tough," I say, feeling a fresh set of tears.

"Sidney, you did NOT, give up on me. You did exactly the right thing. You didn't give up," he tilts his head towards me. "You grew up."

I sit, listening to his words as they float out into the room. Tears tickling my face.

"Then why does it hurt so bad?" I ask.

He's quiet for a few moments before he speaks. "Because sometimes, growing up leads people down two different roads."

I squeeze my eyes, letting the tears fall.

"Sidney, I get why you're with Chris. I'm sorry, I gave you a hard time. He's nice. -and he's not complicated." Bo quiets for a moment, and then sighs. "He's everything I'm not."

I sit there, wrapped in his arms on the floor. I want to tell him that I love him. That I'm still so in love with him, that I'd follow him anywhere, I'd give up anything. That if he just says the word, I'll stay right here, in his arms, forever. But I realize in the moment, that maybe everything he said about Elle, was him telling me exactly where he intends to stay, and maybe that's why this hurts so bad. Maybe this, is just another moment in life, where instead, I have to grow up.

WINTER 2010 - STANFORD HOUSE

It took me almost two days to recover from the hangover, that I brought upon myself, the night of the Halloween party. It took me several weeks, however, to recover from the embarrassment I had, from trying to force my way onto Bo. I broke his heart, threw slutty heels at his face, and then tried to seduce him, up in my room. How awful of a human being could I possibly be?

I was in such a shame spiral, I came up with random excuses to get out of going home to Danvers, for the holidays. Mom was disappointed, but she tried to be understanding. It was just another thing for me to add to my growing list of reasons to feel like a shitty person. Thanksgiving came and went.

Two days before Christmas, I received an unexpected text, from Bo.

Bo 8:55pm: I heard you're staying at Stanford for the holidays. Thought maybe you could come to L.A? Stay with me for Christmas? No pressure, take it or leave it.

The next morning, I presented the idea to Teagan, who had just finished packing for her flight to Danvers, to see her family.

"I don't know, Sidney," she said, slipping a scarf behind her neck. "You just got over the Halloween debacle. Plus, with this whole, post breakup sex strike, you guys are on? How do you really think that's going to go. Christmas is sexy and you guys are like military grade magnets. Literally, even in high school, I always felt like you guys were going to eat each other up, right there by the lockers."

I laughed, "Teagan, how is Christmas sexy? And by the way," I said, tugging on her scarf, "it's 65 degrees outside."

She pulled her scarf out of my hand. "And -it's 40 degrees in Danvers." She grabbed her luggage off the bed, turning, before she headed out of the door. "Look, all I'm saying, is I just saw him on some holiday comedy thing the other night, on TV. And your boy, he's is looking HELLA hot. Like EXTRA spicey."

I sighed, sitting on the edge of the bed. "So you think I shouldn't go?"

"You know my opinion on the WHOLE situation, Sidney. I've been rooting for you guys since Junior year. I think you SHOULD go, and I think you should let him ROCK YOUR WORLD under the Christmas tree. And then MARRY HIM. And have ALL of his babies. THAT'S what I think. But, if not. I think you should just be careful."

I nodded. "Yeah, I know"

She smiled, softly. "Merry Christmas, Sidney."

"Merry Christmas, Teagan. Say Hi to Danvers for me."

WINTER 2010 - LA

After she left, The house was too quiet and I made the decision to go to L.A, almost immediately. So, I decided to throw caution to the wind, and head 6 hours south for Christmas. I decided to drive, to avoid the holiday rush at the airport and, just in case, I had a getaway car if things went wrong. I knew he was doing a last minute show at the Laugh Factory, so I decided to head there to surprise him. I paid extra, at the ticket booth, to get closer to the front, and as I got seated, I realized, I'd never seen him perform as an audience member. It was always from the side wings that I watched him, or through a television screen.

I felt a rise of nerves as the opening act finished their set, Bo appearing soon after. The audience lost their shit, as he strolled casually across the stage in a red and gray sweater and jeans, pulling the mic from the stand. I immediately noticed what Teagan was talking about. It appeared that Bo had gotten a haircut since I saw him on Halloween. The tuft of hair that hung nearly in his eyes, for years, now had a choppy, styled look as it swayed up and away from his face. It was such a small change that made a big impact. It swallowed up the last of his boyish appearance, giving him a fresh faced, college age look. It made me kind of sad in a way, but it was over shadowed by my sudden realization that he looked hotter than ever, and I was hellbent on keeping my hands off of him this time.

"It's Christmas. Again," Bo began. "A baby, spilled forth, from the Gape-A-Saurus, of a trifling adulterer -with an unlikely story. That is why you must, GO NOW! Max out your credit cards in a desperate attempt to receive the love you were -promised." The audience is rolling. I'm wondering how his mother hasn't strangled him to death. "Your family will still hate you, there is no hope. Merry Christmas, fuckers."

The audience thundered with laughter and applause as he put the microphone back in the stand and started towards the piano. That's when he noticed me. He stopped in his tracks for a moment. I gave him a small wave. He grinned, dropping his head shyly and continued on his way.

After several "Bo version" Christmas songs, a few more sets filled with brilliant word play, and insulting a poor girl in the audience, who yelled "I love you." He took a bow and we all stood and cheered.

After we had dinner around the corner from the laugh factory, where I got to witness his major improvement with fan interaction; I followed Bo, to his place, in downtown L.A.

"Well, this is it," Bo said as we headed through the door. It was a small, really nice, two bedroom apartment, and I knew at that point he was raking in some serious income to be able to afford that in L.A.

"Wow, you really got into the spirit of Christmas this year," I said, looking around. The wood flooring and white walls were decorated surprisingly well.

"It wasn't really just me. I have some friends that came over and decorated after thanksgiving," he explained. "You'll meet them, if you stay for New Years Eve."

"Yeah, sure. Why not," I said, walking up to the Christmas tree, lit up, but bare. "You don't have any ornaments?" I asked, looking over my shoulder at Bo, leaning against the couch.

"Not yet," he grinned. "Maybe next year, if I get home to Danvers, I'll steal some from the tree."

It was getting late and I was exhausted from the drive, so not long after, I settled on the couch and we watched Home Alone. Bo sat on the floor with his back against the couch. I wanted so badly to reach out and touch his hair. But I tucked my hand under the blanket, and only a little while later, I drifted off to sleep.

CHRISTMAS EVE

The next day, Bo and I took a stroll to a nearby pizzeria and grabbed our Christmas eve dinner. It was a lot chillier than the day before, but on our way back to his apartment, I took in the buzzing streets of downtown L.A, and imagined how amazing summers probably were there.

"I should move here. After college, I mean." I said, glancing at Bo, who balanced a pizza box on his palm as he strode beside me.

"I think you would like it here. It has a pretty cool energy," he replied, looking out at the sidewalk stretched in front of us. "Plenty of opportunities, for sure."

We made it back to the apartment a few minutes later.

"Oh, shit. I wanted to show you something," he said, tossing the pizza onto the couch. He disappeared into his room, returning a minute or so later, holding a shoebox. "You remember how people used to print pictures on a paper material?" He grinned.

I laughed, "Yeah, I think I vaguely remember that time."

"Mom visited me right after I moved in and she brought these," he lifted the lid off the shoebox. "Sid, prepare to be amazed. For this, -is not for the faint of heart," he reached into the box and pulled out some photos, in a hilariously impressive, showman style reveal. "Welcome, to the shoebox of embarrassment."

We spent hours that Christmas Eve, on the floor, in front of the couch, surrounded by a sea of scattered photos. A Christmas Eve, movie marathon, played in the background, going mostly ignored, as we ate pizza, and damn near died, from laughing at all the hilarious pictures from our time in Danvers.

"Oh look, the pool house," I said, pulling a photo from the floor. It was from my first summer after the move. There in the photo, stood a 13 year old, Bo and Sid. So proud of our new, cool hangout.

Bo leaned in to look at the photo, and I became hyper aware of his face, only a few inches from mine. He smelled so good, so familiar. I glanced up at his eyes, gleaming from the tree lights as he gazed down at the photo, his lashes casting shadows under his eyes. I wanted, so badly, to tuck my fingers under his chin ,and guide the smile on his lips, to mine. He noticed me looking and glanced up from the picture.

"Good times, huh, Sid?" He said softly.

Yeah, they were," I answered. Our gaze held a moment longer, and I jumped to my feet. "I've got an idea!" I took the picture and tucked it into the branches of the tree. I looked back down at Bo. He smiled, looking up at the picture.

"It's perfect," he said.

We eventually moved to the couch, stretched out, on opposite sides. We sipped on hot cocoa, tossing marshmallows at each other and into the Christmas tree. I talked about school and he told me about the second half of his tour, starting the following March. For a fleeting moment, I remembered what it was like, to have my best friend. The best friend I had, until the night he kissed me for the first time, on top of the sleeping bags on the floor of the pool house.

CHRISTMAS

It was early morning. We downed a bunch of coffee, and facetimed with our families for a while. They all seemed happy, but a bit surprised to see us cheerfully hanging out. The chat session went on way longer than Bo and I were prepared for, and we eventually made an excuse to end it.

After resuming, Jingle All The Way on the tv, Bo got up, and crossed the living room, to the coat closet. "I hope you don't mind. I wasn't sure if you were coming or not, but I got you something." He pulled out a horribly wrapped, arm full of something, and brought it over to the couch.

"Bo, I really wish you hadn't. I didn't even think I would be spending Christmas with a single human. I did zero shopping."

"Come on, Sid. I asked you to come at the very last minute. I wasn't expecting you to bring anything. Besides, if you weren't here. What do you think I'd be doing for Christmas?" he said, presenting the empty apartment. "I'm just happy you decided to come," he smiled.

"Okay, fine," I laughed. "What do we have here?," I said, looking down at the chaos cluster of Christmas paper, sitting between us.

Bo laughed, holding the back of his hand, shyly over his eyes for a moment, before dropping it to his lap. "It's kind of random and nerdy, but –I really hope you like it."

I smiled, shaking my head, wondering how this guy could captivate a vast audience with an arrogant and domineering demeanor, and still get flustered, and shy over small things. I begin tearing into the paper, and the mystery thickened when I spot gold, and smokey gray metal, through a rip in the paper. I rip through it quicker, finally revealing what was inside. All I could do was slap my hands over my mouth as I looked at it.

"Please tell you like it, and you're not horrified, right now," Bo said, his eyes growing less amused and more worried.

Laying in front of me, was a, 1920's Underwood, No. 5, typewriter. It was hands down, the most stunningly beautiful, object I had ever seen. I slowly lowered my hands from my mouth, running my fingers across the keys and over the soft gold, strikers.

I look up at Bo's worried eyes. "Bo –This," I glance back down at it, and then back up to him. "This -is so beautiful. This is everything. I love it, I love it so much," my voice breaks.

He looked relieved and tilted his head, smiling. "Okay, good."

I shook my head as I marveled at its perfection once more. Then I leaned over it, hugging him around his neck. "I could never thank you enough. I love it," I said.

I finally released him and sat back. He held my gaze for a second, a hint of his smile still there. "I know you're going to do amazing things, Sidney. I just thought, maybe you could do some of your drafts with it. And uh- Maybe keep your coffee at a safe distance. You can't manually save your work on this."

NEW YEARS EVE

Bo and I spent the days after Christmas, out and about. We strolled the streets of L.A, dipping in and out of gift shops, and other various stores, that were actually open. We ate out for lunches and dinners and mingled around the marbled, Hollywood stars. It was just an all-around, good time.

Luckily, I thought ahead, and considered the idea that I might stay for New Year's Eve, while I was packing frantically, and I threw in a black and silver, a- line dress, just in case. I hadn't worn it yet, so I was pretty excited to put it on that evening, just as Bo's friends started arriving. It was little short, but not AT ALL, as revealing as the green, Halloween situation.

Bo's friends were really nice. They were all, around our age. There was two pairs of couples. Scott, an indie actor and his leggy, model, girlfriend Rebeca. Chase, a commercial actor and his comedic actress, girlfriend Bethany. Then there were three, comedian/actors. Pete, Josh and Brandon.

And then there was, Ava. The super skinny, super gorgeous blonde model that OBVIOUSLY, had a thing for Bo. I couldn't tell if he had slept with her yet, but I had a feeling it would happen eventually, either way. The thought alone, tore me, so violently out of my frame, that I decided to tuck that meltdown away for when I got home.

We all had a few drinks, some of us sitting, some of us standing, around the living room, talking and laughing. Bo seemed particularly hyper that night, as him, Pete and Brandon, roasted each other on their sets, in the middle of the living room, all of us howling with laughter. I sat on the end of the couch next to Scott and Rebeca, who mainly stayed wrapped around each other. The rest of them stood in a semi-circle around the antics coming from Bo and the guys.

I felt a little bit of sadness, over the idea that he legitimately had this life, and these friends here. Without me. But I was happy that he had a good crew to hang out with. Except Ava. I cringed as she somehow managed to laugh louder than everyone else, on purpose. Any chance she got she would hang on Bo's shoulder, or pull at his shirt or pout about something stupid, trying desperately to get his attention. To my shallow pleasure, he barely seemed to notice her. I didn't know if that was common or if he was just trying to be nice while I was there.

At some point I left the crowd behind and wondered into the kitchen to grab another drink. Bethany walked, in about the time I was pouring a mixer into my whiskey.

"So you must Sidney, from Stanford, right?" She said, tossing some ice into her glass from the freezer. She was a thin girl, with dark hair, and an icy stare. For her to be a comedian, she sure gave off a Wednesday Adams vibe. I liked her immediately.

"That's me," I answered. "You're Bethany?"

"Oh -yeah, it is," she seemed confused. "I get called a cunt so much, I lose track."

I laughed, taking a drink.

"You guys used to be a thing? You and Bo?" She asked, pouring a shockingly stiff drink.

"Yeah. It just, -it got really difficult when I started school," I said, feeling for some reason that I needed to explain myself.

She nodded. "He mentions you all the time, you guys must be really close, still."

"Trying to be, I guess. I don't know. It's been a complicated situation," I said, tugging nervously at the bottom of my dress.

"Yeah, break ups are a raging bitch." She set out two shot glasses. Pouring whiskey in both.

"Hey, don't worry about Ava," she said glancing up at me from her mini bartending.

I faked a look of confusion, like I didn't know who she was talking about.

"I saw you eyeing her whorish little display in there. But, if it makes you feel any better, Bo doesn't give her that much attention. I mean, at least most of the time."

I wanted to ask her what MOST of the time meant, but I just nodded casually like it didn't matter. Because in all reality, it shouldn't matter. It's not my business anymore. She handed me one of the shots, and picked up the other.

"To, 2011," she said tapping her shot glass to mine.

That night, we all danced, we laughed, we screamed jokes, and talked over each other. And it turned out to be, just a fucking fun night.

As it neared midnight, we all gathered around the TV, pouring glasses of champagne. I stood next to Bo, laughing my ass off as he clumsily poured champagne all over us, trying to get it in our glasses. He finally found some success and we turned back to the TV as the countdown from Times Square began.

5…..4….3…..2…1

"Happy new year!" We all thundered. Everyone in the room went nuts, jumping on the couch, blowing little horns, slow dancing to, Auld Lang Syne.

"Happy new year, Sidney." Bo turned, smiling down at me. We tapped our glasses.

"Happy new year," I said, feeling a twinge of sadness. It had been the best trip, ever. And I knew tomorrow I would have to gather my things and head back to Stanford.

I looked up at Bo, as he sipped his champagne, wishing I could capture this moment, to take with me, forever. But then he glanced back down at me, and his eyes lingered. The chaotic celebration of the room seem to all, but silence. A slow grin, began to appear on his lips.

"Fuck it," he whispered. He grabbed the back of my head, and sank his mouth onto mine. We kissed, and it lit up brighter than the fireworks over Times Square. My legs went numb and I dropped my glass to the couch-side table, wrapping my arms around his neck. He pulled back, grabbing my arm, leading me quicky to the dark alcove, right outside of his bedroom. We fell against the wall, kissing frantically, feverishly, our breath ragged, our hands everywhere. From the living room, I heard them cheering about our exit.

"Bo," I barely got out between kisses.

"I know, I know," Bo said, breathlessly, kissing down my neck. "No strings, Sidney, I swear." He pulled his head up, crashing his mouth back into mine, picking me up around my waist, and carrying me into the darkness of his bedroom. Him and I, we've had some nights. But, that night, we worked into a fever pitch. A mix of extreme happy, and extreme need. Laughing, whispering, exploring, until our bodies were slick with sweat. I think some part of me, still exists inside that night.

The next morning, while he slept soundly. I quietly made my way through the empty apartment. The sounds of the party, from the night before, were now a ghost, echoing inside the walls. I gathered my things, grabbed the typewriter and whispered a bittersweet goodbye to a sleeping Bo. Then, I headed back to Stanford.