In a New York Minute(40)

Arms in the sky, right leg kicked up behind her, she smiled widely and held herself there for what felt like a minute, a crane posed silently on the edge of water. It was the same pose she’d done last week in the park, her “SerenaStyle” formation. It was supposed to be this happy, joyful pose, but something about it was stiff and planned, the opposite of spontaneous. It made me think back to Franny and her Italian ice, and the way she hadn’t cared at all when it spilled on her.

After a round of flashes, Serena came to life again and approached the photographer.

“Can you text those to me?” she asked as I lingered awkwardly a few feet away in front of the photo wall, examining the brands that had sponsored this birthday party. A vodka company I recognized, a dating app. Some CBD brand specifically for women.

Photos acquired minutes later, Serena grabbed my arm again, leading me into the actual party. The music competed with conversations shouted over passed glasses of champagne. In the corner, a pair of tattooed women stitched people’s names onto hooded sweatshirts, the party favor of the evening. There seemed to be a cotton-candy machine somewhere, judging by the amount of people eating it, which was competing with hand-rolled sushi as the meal of the night.

The last birthday party I’d been to had been an intimate gathering on the patio of Eleanor’s favorite vegan restaurant in the West Village. This felt like a prom.

Yet Serena moved effortlessly through the room, introducing me to people, touching my arm constantly, including me in conversations, talking me up. I got the feeling she was showing me off. It was something that should have stroked my ego, made me feel good. But nothing revved inside me.

“This is Dominique!”

“Hayes runs one of the most important environmental finance firms in the city!”

“We interned together at Vogue!”

“The Wall Street Journal did a whole profile on him!”

“Can you believe she’s only twenty-two and already shooting in Paris?”

“Yeah, we ran the whole Central Park loop together. It was so fun!”

After forty-five minutes of shouted introductions, forced smiles, and endless head nodding, I excused myself and retreated outside for some air. I dug my phone out and texted Perrine. Do you wanna hang out? I think I’m going to cut out on this party early.

Perrine’s reply popped up just as I jogged back up the steps and into the bar to find Serena. Aren’t you on a date?

And then: Having dinner w Lola at 9, can stop by in a few first.

I sent a thumbs-up emoji in response.

“Hayes!” Serena waved me over to where she was wedged on the edge of a couch next to a gaggle of long-limbed model types.

“Hey!” I leaned down toward her, and she grazed a hand up my arm, smiling. When her hand reached my wrist, I flipped up my palm, entwining our fingers. A pang of guilt hit my gut—I should want to stay, but my desire to get the hell out of there was overpowering. “I’m gonna take off. I have an early breakfast meeting tomorrow.”

“I’m sorry this ended up being such a zoo,” she said with a sincerely apologetic look on her face. “Maybe we can do something just the two of us soon? I could even cook you dinner. Your place or mine.”

“I’d love that,” I said, though it felt more like I was going through the motions of what I was expected to say. I liked this feeling of being wanted, and Serena was charming and warm, and fun to be around. But whenever I was with her, it felt like I was waiting for some feeling to reveal itself, like a guest to a party who was running absurdly late.

She placed a small kiss on my lips, soft and warm, and I pressed back, trying to feel the connection I was so sure was supposed to be there. “Get home safe.”

*



Perrine leaned against the counter as I microwaved one of my delivery meals. Salmon with an almond-flour crust over green beans. Perfectly adequate. Possibly even good.

“It seems like a strange choice for a date,” she said, pondering. “Who invites a guy they just met to a friend’s massive birthday party?”

“Well, in her defense, she made it out to be more of a casual gathering. Maybe she didn’t know it was going to be so huge?”

“Or maybe that’s just what a casual gathering looks like to her.”

I shrugged. “I mean, going out seems to be part of her job. So she must like it.”

She peered over as I popped the container out of the microwave, steam rising as I mixed the vegetables with a fork. “There should be a law against microwaving fish,” she said with a grimace.

Luckily, the buzzer interrupted her food criticism, and she wandered out to the door. “Hey,” she called from the hallway. “Is it okay if Lola comes up?” If she was nervous for the two of us to meet again, she didn’t sound like it. I tried not to either.

“Of course,” I said, playing it cool. I grabbed a paper towel and can of sparkling water and headed to the living room, sitting on the couch with my plate balanced on my knees.

I listened as Perrine and Lola greeted each other in the hall, voices hushed but tender. Footsteps, and then they were in the living room. “Lola,” I said, my mouth full. I stood, putting my plate on the coffee table. “It’s nice to see you.”

I extended my hand toward her, and she took it in her own. “Hi,” she said, looking me straight in the eye. “Fancy seeing you again.”