I'm surrounded by accents. It's ridiculous when I've spent enough time in the states that I hear people speaking with my own accent, and I still consider it an accent. I suppose that's my fault. I got myself tangled up with an American family.

New Year's Eve. Of course I'm at a party. I'm Sophie Devereaux. Where else would I be? When there's a party to be at, I'm at it. That's something that can be counted on. It's something that hasn't changed in all my life, and something I never will change.

But every New Year's party I've been to, I've always had some handsome man on my arm. It feels weird to be without one, but how could I bring one man to hang on my arm when it would feel like a betrayal to the one I always want on my arm? No, this year, I am without a man, because this year, I am without him.

The countdown begins. "Ten… nine… eight… seven… six.." I leave the room. I don't want to be there to see the partygoers kissing the men on their arms. Not when I can remember how close I was.

And I could never forget. Nate, standing there in all black, which was always his best color. Cerulean eyes, boring into mine with endless depth and desire. I turned my face away. I'll always regret that. I was so close, l and if I hadn't been stupid enough to turn my face away, he would be here right now, on my arm, handsome and sauve and always there.

I hear the shouts of the New Year, and I blink back tears. Then, my phone buzzes in my pocket. I flip it open to see the text.

Happy New Year's Sophie.

The tears come and I hug the phone to me, Nate's text lighting up the screen.