*the song just made me think of this chapter! i listened while writing sooo*
to be drunk and in love in new york city
midnight into morning coffee
burning through the hours talking
"Mona, you make me laugh," David grinned as he looked down at my outfit for the airplane.
"What? I woke up late!" I defended myself, glancing down at my flannel pajama pants, my bright blue oversized, stained camp counselor t-shirt from Camp Watalahooga, and the Balenciaga jacket I had fashionably placed on top. Paired with my fuzzy Christmas socks and Nike slides, I was looking like nothing less than a hot mess. "Plus I've done tons of research. You're supposed to be comfortable on a plane, duh! How else are you supposed to sleep?"
"The jacket is a nice touch," he couldn't stifle his laugh, even when I glared up at him. He even had the nerve to pull out his phone and snap a few pictures of me, despite my annoyed look and trying to cover my face. "I'm sorry. You look so fucking funny, Mona. You can make fun of me."
"I don't need to," I replied snarkily. "Your shitty haircut does all the work for me."
"Good one," David playfully rolled his eyes, running a hand through his hair in an attempt to tame his messy locks, but somehow it only ended up worse. "Let's go. If you annoy me anymore, I'd be tempted to leave you in Chicago."
"Like you could even last the week without me," I scoffed, taking a few confident strides ahead of him before I realized I'd never been in an airport before and I had no clue what to do. David did all of the bag checking and stuff like that, and then instructed me to follow him to an underpopulated part of the airport, which seemed to gain quality the further down we went. The floors were shinier and the paintings on the walls seemed... more artistic. More expensive. "Where are we going?"
"To where we get on the plane," David shrugged like it was obvious.
"Weren't the gates, like, back there, though?" I gestured to the area we were in before we entered this area of the airport. After my intense airport research for my first time flying, I thought I knew pretty much everything anyone would need to know about Chicago O'Hare... ever. I was positive David was going the wrong direction, but I knew he had flown before, so I let him take the wheel anyway.
We ended up at a little desk where the receptionist recognized him. After a few minutes of standing around (with David on his phone, completely ignoring me), a man in a suit called us out and led us to a door. After a long hallway, and a few more doors, we ended up outside... on the runway. I looked to David in complete confusion. "What is going on?"
David's face was still buried in his phone still, and he didn't even look up as he wordlessly pointed towards a small, but not tiny plane. I squinted. "That's for us?"
"You ask so many questions," David rolled his eyes, but wrapped his arm around my shoulder and pulled me towards the plane anyways. He let me ascend the steps first, and inside I saw only a few seats, a large bathroom, and the flight attendants' area. Needless to say, I was highly confused.
"Are we the only ones coming on this plane?"
"Mona Greene," David smirked triumphantly. "Welcome to your first private jet."
It was fun, I had to say. I was poor, and it was exhilarating to do something so "once in a lifetime" for me. I hated that David could provide some type of happiness that I couldn't give myself... but I'd think about that next weekend. This weekend, I was going to have fun.
We watched a movie on the plane (Bridesmaids, which David "hated" (AKA secretly liked but was too pussy to say it)). Only a few minutes into the movie, I was getting tired of craning my neck to see it in David's area. I almost just turned on my own movie in front of me, but David patted his lap, signaling for me to join him in his chair.
"You want me to sit on your lap?" I chuckled just at the thought. "David, I will crush you. I weigh two times more than you. Your chicken legs will snap under the pressure."
"Just come here, Mona," David rolled his eyes, once again patting the top of his thighs. I wasn't sure if I could (or should) unbuckle, but David was, so I took it as a good sign. I crossed the small aisle and slowly lowered myself onto David's legs, still placing a little bit of pressure on my legs so he wouldn't be exposed to my full weight. He noticed, knocking my legs out from under me with ease and forcing my full body weight onto his legs. He wrapped an arm around my waist, pulling me up his thighs and closer to his actual lap instead of his knees. Once I positioned my head against the plane window and he placed his on my shoulder, we continued the movie.
The plane ride wasn't too long, and we landed just a few minutes after the movie was over. All in all, my thoughts on planes were simple: scary, but fun. I had a feeling it would've been worse on a regular plane, where I couldn't scream every time the plane bumped due to a bit of turbulence.
If I thought the plane was scary... New York City was even scarier. I was never much of a "city" person; I was a slow walker who liked to take in the sites around me. I didn't understand taxis or traffic or the common courtesies you were supposed to have in city life, and that was why I got pushed around and nearly ran over thirty different times, just on our way from the airport to the hotel. David, on the other hand, seemed calm, cool, and collected, no matter what situation we were in. I envied his ability to act so natural anywhere.
Checking into the hotel was easy enough (I did nothing), and David led us upstairs to the top floor. Of course he would have the penthouse. He was a Dobrik; he probably couldn't settle for anything less.
It was large and so nice on the inside. The floor was a mixture of hardwood and carpet, depending what room you were in. It had huge balcony overlooking the noisy but beautiful Times Square, and soundproof balcony doors for the night time. With the fancily furnished living room and full kitchen, it was a dream to stay in it for a couple days. The place had three bedrooms, each with their own bathroom, and its own small gym. I mean, come on. Maybe I needed to start being a little nicer to David.
After choosing my room, I changed into some nicer clothes (jeans and a plain black t-shirt) before returning to the living room where David was watching TV on the couch. I sat next to him, in relative silence, until I said, "I have a question for you."
"Okay," David replied, eyes shifting from Kerry Washington to me.
"Did you do this kind of stuff when your mom was alive?" I asked. I didn't think it would hurt his feelings to bring her up, so I did. I was genuinely curious, and he clearly knew I didn't mean any harm by it. "I mean, penthouses and private jets and stuff? From what I've heard, it just seems like she wasn't that kind of person."
"Uh, I guess it depended on where we went," David shrugged, unaffected by the question. I had to wipe the nervous sweat off my brow as he answered. He could've stormed out on me. "She liked this kind of stuff like you do. Not in a "eh, it'll do" way, but in an "amazed every time" way. There are certain places, like New York and California, where my dad would only fly private and we'd only stay in the nicest places. Our actual vacations, we went to Florida a lot, and we always stayed in nice, but basic hotels. She liked it and she thought it was cool, but she saw the pretentiousness behind it all."
"She seems really cool," I told him earnestly.
And she did. I had only heard good things about Talulah Dobrik. It was understandable why John wanted Sam and David to find someone like her; she seemed like an amazing person.
"She was," David replied, unable to look me in the eyes. "Tell me more about your mom."
It had been unanimously decided that we weren't going anywhere for the night, and we'd start our tourism tomorrow. That's the only reason I started talking about my mom, a topic that I knew would wreck me for the rest of the night. "She was so fucking pretty. I know everyone thinks their mom is pretty, but mine was... so pretty. It didn't hurt that she had such an amazing personality to go along with it. She literally shined, if that made sense. She was sunshine. Everyone loved her, everyone who met her had only nice things to say about her. She almost died giving birth to me, and even when she thought she was bleeding out, she was telling my dad and his parents that she was so happy she brought someone life. She was just that kind of person. A Stevie Nicks loving, baker extraordinare of a person. Even when she got sick... all she did was love people. She was so happy, even when she was throwing up and in pain and losing her hair. It was amazing to see, honestly. It helps me now. If she could be positive while dying from cancer, I could... you know. Move on from this stuff."
"Your dad just died three months ago," David frowned. "Just because your mom could deal with things one way doesn't mean you have to, too. It's okay to be angry and upset about that shit. You don't have to be perfect."
"If I chose to be angry and upset with the way my life went, I probably would've slit my wrists by now," I shrugged frankly. "I've learned to trust in the process by now."
"You did, though," David stated, a hint of confusion in his features. "Didn't you... try to kill yourself?"
I thought for a second. I had known David for well over a month and a half. Despite our obvious differences, he wasn't a bad friend. In fact, he was my closest confidant at this point. I felt like I could tell him anything. So I did.
"I... um," I struggled to find the words to say. Of course, I could just tell him what happened, but I had a feeling it would only make me look crazy. I had to explain, but it was so hard. "In Texas, you can live alone at sixteen. Since our house was already paid off and I had all the life insurance money and my school was only a few blocks away, me and my grandparents decided I could try out living on my own for a few weeks, just to see if I could handle it."
"So your parents, like, just died and they let you live alone in the house they both died in?" David frowned, complete shock on his face. Looking back on it, I was just as shocked as him. Bad idea on all of our parts.
"It seemed like a good idea at the time," I shrugged. "I had friends, you know. Plus, their graves are in Texas and... just everything. I was taking piano and voice lessons there. Everything was there. I didn't want to move in the middle of the year."
"Sorry, you lost me when you said you had friends," David joked, which was only a little off topic. I felt like he was trying to help, but I still hit him as hard as I could on the shoulder in response. "Kidding. You sing?"
"A little. My mom was really good. Anyways, over the month that I was still in Texas, I basically lost all my friends. Well, not lost. They tried to talk to me, but I was pretty numb. I'm sure you... get it. You know, the whole closed off thing."
"I do," David nodded, and gestured for me to continue.
"Uh, then... I don't know. I don't know how to explain it. All my friends were reaching out to me, but no one was there. I felt so worthless and alone... like my dad would rather be dead than stuck with me," I took a deep breath before I attempted to reveal the next bit of information. "So I took all the morphine my mom had left."
"Oh my god," was all David could say, but he reached forward to wrap my hand in his. It was a small gesture, but it meant a lot to me.
"It was, like, ten minutes later that I started feeling woozy, and I had just accepted it. But then I got a call," I choked up at that point, remembering the day like it was yesterday. My phone rang next to me, and it took every fiber of my being to try and stop myself from seeing who was calling me. "It was my grandma. She called me—she called me every night to make sure I was doing okay. I just kind of realized, I couldn't do this to them. They couldn't lose someone else. So I made myself throw up off the side of my bed and called 911. Then I moved here."
"You were kind of bitchy," David joked, which did its job. I laughed and nodded, wiping my running nose and then wiping my hand on his pants. He screeched and pulled away, but with his fingers still intertwined with mine, he couldn't go very far. "I was kidding! Don't wipe your nasty ass boogers on me!"
And that was that. The next day, David and I woke up early and did all of the classic tourist-y things you could do in New York. We ate hotdogs on the street, yelled "hey, I'm walkin' here!" at random people, saw the Empire State Building, reenacted the Empire State Building scene from Gossip Girl, saw a rat carrying a Cheeto Puff into the subway, saw the Statue of Liberty (from a distance, because I was not about to get on a boat), went to Central Park and reenacted the rugby scene from Friends, and made it back to our hotel room before the streets got too crowded for the ball drop. It was a hell of a day, and even though I was so tired I could barely keep my eyes open, I had to get ready. I was in New York City on New Year's Eve, only a few hours before the ball dropped a couple hundred feet from our hotel room. I had to look cute, and I had to get some pictures.
After curling my hair and changing into a plain black, spaghetti strap dress, I asked David to come downstairs and take a picture of me in front of a cool wall I saw only a block or two from our hotel room. He seemed dumbfounded for a moment, eyes trained on the excessive cleavage and the short hem line of the dress, before he finally said, "It's December. You're going to freeze your ass off."
"We'll only be down there for, like, an hour," I shrugged. "In the words of Cardi B, a hoe never gets cold."
"You're not a hoe," David stood, grabbing the Balenciaga jacket that had been laying across the back of the couch, and placed it over my shoulders. "C'mon. We're staying out there for less than forty five minutes, and then we'll come back up here to watch everything. You're going to get a cold."
"Okay, Dad," I rolled my eyes, leaving my arms out of the jacket partially in defiance, and partially because it looked more "high fashion" that way. "Let's just go, please! The sun is setting, and I look like a bitch in flash pictures."
"You always look like a bitch," David replied, shoving his phone into his back pocket. Once he made sure he had his wallet and the room key in his pocket, he led us out the door. New York at night was much more beautiful, and much scarier, than New York during the day. He took my picture just as the sun was setting, and our journey back to Times Square was scary. The amount of catcalling crackheads and people touching me without my consent was freaking me out, and David was no help. He wrapped a protective arm around me, but let's face it, anyone could beat David's ass. We ended up staying in the crowd around the ball drop, where famous celebrities were watching and preforming, for only a few minutes before we decided to go back up to the hotel room.
David pulled a bottle of champagne off the kitchen counter and cracked it open, taking out two glasses from the cabinet and filling them to the brim.
"I thought you didn't drink," I commented.
"I don't drink and drive," David replied, sliding the glass across the counter towards me. I squealed, watching half the liquid spill over the lip and onto the floor just as I stopped it from shattering everywhere.
"Don't do that!" I yelled, taking a large sip from my flute just because his reckless actions stressed me out. "This is why you shouldn't drink."
"I haven't even drank anything yet," David playfully rolled his eyes. "You're just boring and a pussy."
"At least I'm not a dick," I replied with raised eyebrows, finishing out the rest of my champagne. It wasn't in my plans to get drunk that night, but you had to do what you had to do when you were stuck with David. I poured myself another glass, this time not overflowing, and made my way out to the balcony.
Overlooking Times Square at night on New Year's Eve was, in one word, magical. The lights, the glitz, the glamour. It was amazing to see everything, from people making out on the streets, to people taking body shots on the side walk. It was like being on drugs, but in a good way. David joined me for a little while, but around ten thirty, he said he was going to get another drink and never came back.
I wasn't necessarily drunk, but I was warm. Everything felt right. That's when the countdown started.
Ten!
I stood from my chair to peer out over the balcony.
Nine!
I called for David to come see the whole reason why we came to New York.
Eight!
I chanted along with the rest of the group on the streets.
Seven!
I felt a presence behind me, pressing me into the railing.
Six!
I turned on my heel to find David standing in front of me, very close and unwavering.
Five!
I tried to ask him what he was doing, but the streets were so loud, I found it hard to believe he could hear me.
Four!
He placed one hand gently on my hip, and the other tucked a piece of hair behind my ear.
Three!
I looked up at him, feeling as if he was towering over me even though he was only a few inches taller than me.
Two!
A light smile graced his face as he began to lean in. I didn't pull away.
One!
David Dobrik kissed me, his champagne glossed lips finding mine the second it turned New Years. I almost freaked out at first, but after a second of getting into the groove of things, I let my eyes flutter shut, running one of my hands through his messy brown hair to draw him closer to me. There we sat, pressed against the balcony railing of our hotel in the middle of Times Square, kissing for the next thirty seconds.
He pulled away, a sloppy and cheeky smile on his face, and mumbled, "Happy New Year, sweetheart."
i like me better when i'm with you
pretty sure this is the longest chapter ive ever written and posted all in one piece! i just wanted to post it right at midnight, and i didnt want to post before then sooooo i had to make it all one!!!
all inspiration/creds for the ending (the 10 _______ 9 ___________ etc thing) goes to one of my fav books ive ever read on wattpad!! Sugar Babe!!!! iconic book honestly check it out if u havent
anyways thats all! happyyyy new yearrrrrrr!!!!!!! xoxoxo abby
(also i want a new years kiss :( )