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Times Square on New Year’s Eve is controlled chaos. The cold December air hits us like a slap, but the adrenaline keeps us warm. There are barricades everywhere, cameras, people bundled up in winter coats waiting for midnight. The energy is electric, anticipatory.
“This is insane,” Justine says, staying close to me as we navigate through the backstage area they’ve set up. “I can’t believe we’re actually doing this.”
“It’s crazy!”
The production team briefs us quickly. We’re scheduled to perform at 11:30, thirty minutes before midnight. After that, we’re supposed to stick around for the countdown and the ball drop. Simple enough.
There’s no need to worry about the bajillion people who are about to watch us perform or the fact that we could sound like shit because we won’t have sound check.
Nope, nothing to worry about.
“You okay?” Justine asks, noticing my silence.
“Just thinking.”
“About?”
“About how this time last year, I thought I knew exactly what my life was going to look like.”
She leans against me, her warmth seeping through my jacket. “And now?”
“Now I have no idea what comes next, and I’ve never been happier about being wrong.”
Ryan Seacrest introduces us to the crowd and the millions watching at home, and suddenly we’re on a platform in the middle of Times Square with cameras everywhere. The crowd stretches as far as I can see, a sea of faces lit by phone screens and neon signs.
We’re doing two songs, one with Justine. Pretty much a repeat of what we performed an hour or so ago. Only vastly different. I step up to the mic and my heart pounds in ways I’d only dreamed of.
“New York City,” I yell into the microphone. My voice echoes for what seems like miles and miles. Ajay starts us off and there’s no turning back. This moment won’t make or break us, but if we don’t do well, people will talk about it for a while.
Dana stands next to me, bundled in fake fur and some white hat. Everything about tonight goes down in my book as a first. First time playing a sold-out crowd at MSG. First time playingfor the people of Times Square on NYE. First time singing outside and seeing my breath. The latter is only cool because of where I am.
When Justine comes on stage, her face is flashed on every screen. The crowd, once again, goes wild. She’s definitely a fan favorite. I think after tonight, her popularity is going to soar, and I’m here for it.
Despite the cold and the chaos, something magical happens. I’m watching Justine sing her heart out on national TV and realize that I want everyone to know that I’m starting the year off with a happy heart.
We hit the last notes and finish the song staring into each other’s eyes. The crowd quiets, caught up in the intimacy of the moment, and it feels like we’re performing just for each other.
Instead of stepping back like we’re supposed to, I stay at the mic. This is it. Everything about this moment feels perfect.
“Can I say something?” I ask the crowd, and they cheer in response.
Justine looks at me, confused but trusting. I can see in her eyes that she knows something’s about to happen.
“We all know we’re supposed to make resolutions tonight,” I say, my eyes never leaving Justine’s. “So here it is. This year, I let go. And I lean in.”
The crowd cheers, but they don’t understand yet. Justine does, though. Her smile is radiant, and I can see tears gathering in her eyes.
“I let go of being afraid. Of worrying about what people think. Of playing it safe.” I turn fully to face her now, the mic still in my hand. “And I lean into the things that matter. The music. The people I love. The woman standing right here who changed everything for me.”
Justine’s eyes go wide. “Quinn?—”
But I’m already reaching for her, my free hand cupping her face. The crowd has figured it out now, and the cheering is deafening, but all I can hear is my heartbeat and the sound of Justine’s quiet laugh.
“Happy New Year, Justine.”
The kiss is soft at first, tentative, until she melts into me, and it becomes something more. Something real and honest and completely ours, even though we’re sharing it with millions of people. Her lips are cold from the winter air but warm underneath, and she tastes like mint and possibility.
When we break apart, the jumbotron above us shows our faces, and I realize this moment is being broadcast across the country. Tomorrow, everyone will know. There’s no going back now.