But they don’t stop here, either.
Because something is incredibly right about it. There’s a pleasant ache in her belly and a tangled web of surging emotions and who the fuck cares about friendship when you can feel like this instead of being numb?
She’s reaching up to run her fingers through his hair—something she’s always thought about doing, if she’s honest—when a loud CRACK rips through the freezing air, snapping both of them out of their shared feverish haze.
They both recoil. Ari knocks against the back wall and Josh pulls his hands away like an old-timey schoolmaster smacked them with a ruler.
A sustained cheer erupts from somewhere to the south.
The thing that finally stops them from committing a misdemeanor is the starting pistol of the New York Road Runners Midnight Run.
They stare at each other for what seems like a full minute, both of them waiting for the other to do something. It would be easy enough to just step forward again. She could bite her lip. He might shrug and glance at the ground. They’d get back into it with a certain shyness this time. With more intention.
But as two, five, ten seconds pass, the strange, electric energy that enveloped them dissipates like a breath in the cold air.
Maybe it hadn’t been the pistol. It could have been a lightning bolt thrown down by the goddess of For Fuck’s Sake, Don’t Run This Friendship Off a Cliff.
Her throat is burning with the urge to explain why the kiss shouldn’t be the start of some epic romance. That they can just stay right where they are. Or, wherever they were yesterday. If one more precious thing in her life falls away, it’ll be unbearable.
But the world is still spinning a bit, like she’s just stepped off a carousel.
“That was…” She trails off, unsure what she’d intended to say.
Right now, “just friends” is a comfortable certainty. A gravity blanket. A subtle vanilla-scented candle.
And the alternative is a giant blinking cursor and a blank document. Sometimes it feels like Josh has already been poking around that page. Writing passages and deleting them before she’s ready to open it.
Something in his expression turns cloudy.
“It was just a New Year’s kiss,” he says after an eternity of honking horns and off-key renditions of “Auld Lang Syne.” “And the pot.”
“Right,” is all she manages, all her rhetorical skill apparently buried under the combination of mind-altering substances, adrenaline, and unfulfilled need.
“It doesn’t have to be…anything.” His voice is firm; his face tells another story. He must be transmitting some kind of clue, but Ari can’t decipher it.
A sharp gust of wind billows around her unzipped coat. He turns toward the incline that leads back to Central Park West. “We should move before they close off the path for the race.”
He heads through the arch, not waiting for her, not hesitating when she doesn’t immediately follow.
Ari stays put for a few more seconds, wondering if he might stop and turn around, giving her time to catch up. But he keeps walking away, not even slowing his pace.
Pushing off the wall, she hurries after him.
Maybe this will be fine. Maybe this is how normal people deal with mistakes. They just keep moving forward. She reminds herself to take some deep breaths, but the freezing air hurts her lungs.
As soon as she gets to the spot where the hill starts to rise, her beautiful, impractical stiletto slips on the frost-covered pavement again, sending a jolt of panic through her body as she catches herself.
“Josh!” She turns to the side and takes tiny, shuffling steps, feeling ridiculous. “I can’t get up the hill.”
“I guess you’ll just have to live there,” Josh calls over his shoulder. He takes his time coming back for her.
16
Wed Jan 4, 11:24 p.m.
Josh: I already selected tonight’s film.
Does Donnie Darko hold up?
Disaffected teen Josh Kestenberg thought it was the height of cinema.
11:34 p.m.
Ari: sorry can’t tonight
really busy
Josh: At 11:34 pm?
Ari: didn’t you say I should get back out there?
Catch up later?
Mon, Jan 9, 9:57 p.m.
Josh: Hello?
Still busy?
10:26 p.m.
Ari: hi
I served all the canapés in the tri-state area
Josh: Are you serving canapés on Sunday?
There’s a Buster Keaton series at Film Forum.
Ari: can’t
Helping with Radhya’s popup
Josh: Right.
Sun, Jan 15, 10:23 a.m.
Unknown Number: Ari! Abby Cohen here.