It’s finally New Year’s Eve. My first one out with friends, and of course with my new boyfriend. We went all out - the glass es with “2015” on the front, the New Year’s hats, sparkly clothes, the whole nine yards.
The countdown started as we all watched the ball in New York Times Square on the big screen TV in the club. “Five! Four! Three!” and so on, as everyone shouted. It didn’t feel like New Year’s to me. This year had just gone by so fast. But with the right amount of alcohol flowing threw me, I was able to celebrate as if New Year’s should have been months ago.
I felt my boyfriend’s arms wrap around me and pull me close. “Two! One! Happy New Year’s!” The crowd erupted in cheers, and glitter rained down from the ceiling.
“I hope we end the year together, too,” he said in my ear. In all the noise, he had to nearly shout in my ear, but it was as gentle as a whisper. He pulled me against him and pressed his lips to mine tenderly. He knew how to drive me crazy. His lips started out as soft as a breeze on mine, and slowly became passionate. His tongue slid from between his lips, testing to see how far I would let him go. It was too much to bear. I had absolutely no self control left where he was concerned. My lips parted, inviting him in.
His arm tightened around my waist, pulling me closer than I thought was possible. Somewhere in the back of my mind, a little voice was telling me that we were in public and should stop, but I didn’t care.
He lifted his hand to gently cup my cheek, sending sparks through my nerves. Too soon he pulled away, breathing heavily in tune with me. And when I opened my eyes to gaze into the face of the man I love, I realized something.
I wanted him to be someone else.