New Year’s Eve

Marie spun around in the midst of the crowd, awed by the festivity of Times Square. It was 11:50 on New Year’s Eve, and lights glittered everywhere, and the ball was ten minutes from dropping. News networks - NBS, NBC, ABC, whoever - were everywhere, interviewing random people sporting goofy glittering/bright/flashy 2005 glasses, the ones where the two zeroes were eyeholes. The air was filled with music and voices and confetti and balloons. There was some singing, usually drunken, and everyone pushed to the barriers to get on T.V. (“Hi Mom!”). Marie was taking this all in when she felt an elbow in her back then the abrupt force of a whole body slamming against her. Unluckily, she was standing in a break in the crowd (everyone was trying to get to the cameras) and she fell flat on her back. The someone fell on top of her, knocking her breath away. The someone (clothed in black and undoubtedly male, Marie surmised as she wheezed, and a very handsome one at that) rose slightly, supporting himself on one arm above her. She looked up at him and he grinned embarrassedly and shrugged a little, seeming not to grasp that he was - technically - lying on top of her. He had longish hair, and it brushed her face and she laughed suddenly, some of that remaining holiday spirit suddenly infusing the moment. He started laughing too, and rolled off of her. They both sat up, still laughing, ignoring the looks they were receiving. Soon enough the laughter quieted down and the boy turned to her.

“Hey, I’m sorry about that. These crowds can shove pretty hard, you know,” said the boy.

“No problem,” Marie replied. “By the way, I’m Marie.”

The boy in black ran his hand through his hair and smiled again. “Sorry,” he repeated. “I’m Tom.” He stuck his hand out and Marie shook it.

A cheer rang out and they both stood up, looking to the ball immediately. It had just started its slow descent. Couples all around them started kissing. Marie looked around then turned to Tom.

“Well, happy new yea-“

Tom closed his eyes and pressed his lips to hers. Marie was taken aback and her eyes widened, but she didn’t break the kiss. His lips were very soft, and she liked their feel. She closed her eyes when he brushed his tongue against her lips. She yielded, letting him deepen the kiss. She slid her hands around his waist, and Tom did likewise, albeit with one arm around her shoulders, hugging her closer. Their tongues intertwined and brushed against each other, and Marie withdrew hers to bite Tom’s bottom lip lightly, sucking at it, causing him to make a little noise in his throat. She smiled and her lips moved against his, her eyes still closed. Then Tom repeated the action on her and she gasped. She could hear the crowd roaring faintly as the ball finished its descent and the new year was announced with twelve deep, resounding bongs. When the first bong sounded, they broke away, smiling, hands entwined at their sides.

Marie’s smile was the first to go. It faltered and then left her face completely, and that prompted Tom to ask her what was wrong. She said it was nothing, but that she had to go. Then Tom’s smile fell off his face.

“You can’t stay?” He asked in a sweet, sad voice.

“I wish I could... But I promised my parents that I’d be home right after the ball dropped. I really have to go.”

“Gimme your number, then,” Tom asked, still with that sweet voice. It melted her. She quickly wrote down the number on a bit of paper she picked up from the ground. He read it over and stuffed it into his pocket. “Thanks,” he said, and smiled. She smiled back, let go of his hands, and turned and walked away through the crowd. He stood looking at her and she looked back, once, then was swallowed up by the crowd.

---

Tom walked the couple blocks back home to his high-rise, then took the elevator to the floor where he shared an apartment with his parents. When he got in the closed the door silently and silently made his way across the carpeted living room to his own room. When he got in he went over and collapsed onto his bed, smiling at the ceiling and reliving his kiss with the most beautiful girl in the whole world. He felt kind of bad for knocking her over: he had only wanted to nudge her a little to get her attention, but had fallen into her by accident. Tom stood up and took off his jeans, and clad in only his boxers and a tee, he climbed back into his bed and promptly fell asleep.

---

Tom woke up to light streaming in through the curtains. He looked around groggily and walked over to his bathroom to wash his face and take a leak. Considerably more awake, he stopped on his was out of the bathroom, feeling something was different. He looked around and realized that the mess on his floor had been cleaned up. What day was it? He looked at his watch: Saturday, 11:42. The cleaning lady must have been here already...

Shit!

He couldn’t find his pants - the ones he had been wearing last night, the ones with Marie’s number in them. He searched his room frantically then pulled on a fresh pair and ran out to the kitchen. His mother was still there, dressed casually in designer jeans and a faded yellow shirt.

“Mom, did Lorna come over already?” Tom asked in a rush.

“Oh, yes, darling, you know she comes over early. She took the laundry down to that Laundromat on the corner, you know the place?”

“Thanks Mom!” he said, running out of the apartment and into the hall. He sped toward the elevator just as it opened. He pushed some guy aside with a hurried “sorry!” and pressed the 1 button repeatedly. It seemed to take forever for the elevator to reach the bottom, and when it did, Tom ran across the lobby, bypassed the doorman, and didn’t slow down until he reached the Laundromat. Lorna the cleaning lady, however, was nowhere in sight, and as he panted, he realized with depressing clarity that his mother probably assumed that Lorna had come here, just because it was the only nearby Laundromat his mother knew of. Lorna had obviously taken their laundry somewhere else. He realized that he was attracting some odd glances at his messed up “bedhead” hair and evident sweatiness, and the glances reminded him of last night, and he sighed, feeling incredibly sad. He kicked the door open and walked back to the high-rise, taking the elevator again, albeit this time without rush. He felt like moping around - he had really felt a connection with Marie (beside the kiss, he had been quite taken with her since he first saw her, but the kiss had deepened his feelings), but now it seemed that he wouldn’t be able to connect with or contact her at all, ever again. When he got back to his apartment he went straight to him room, fell on his bed, and screamed into his pillow.

---

Marie waited for Tom’s call for the entirety of the next day. By the next week she gave up all hope of him calling her. She cried into her pillow, and the tears were part frustration, mostly sadness. She had felt so wonderful when he had kissed her, and it was more... special... than when she had kissed other boys. There was something there, but now she would never know what it was.

---

Over the rest of the year, Marie’s thoughts drifted to Tom quite often, and his to her. Eventually the year once again came to a close, and once again Marie was standing alone - though surrounded by people - in Times Square, taking in the dazzling lights and sounds and funny-looking 2006 glasses. Suddenly the crowd swayed and knocked her into someone, and they both fell over. Marie landed on top of the someone. She pushed herself up and sat straddling the person, and her eyes widened when she saw who it was. She recovered quickly, however, and said sotto voce, “Funny running into you here.”

Tom looked up at her then, and he opened his mouth and managed to utter “I’m sorry-“ before Marie’s hand covered his mouth.

“Why didn’t you call?”

---

Tom had been standing at approximately the same spot he had met Marie last year, clinging to some silly desperate hope, when suddenly someone ran into him and knocked him over. He heard a gasp as he struggled to catch his breath, then, “Funny running into you here.”

It was Marie. Tom looked up at her, eyes full of remorse, and managed an “I’m sorry-“ and then her hand was covering his mouth.

“Why didn’t you call?” She asked disappointedly. Her hair brushed against his face.

“I wanted to, I swear, but... I lost your number.” She rolled her eyes at this. “Really! My pants - they went to the laundry with the cleaning lady and I tried to follow her but it was too late and when I got them back all I could make out was a three and an eight and -“

Marie laughed at this outpouring of words. It was hard to be mad at Tom when he looked so sincere... “Okay, okay! I believe...” You, she was going to finish, but she was drowned out by a roar from the crowd. She didn’t have to get up to know the ball was dropping, but she did anyway, climbing off Tom and pulling him to his feet and looking at him. He looked pretty undecided, however, to go about doing what he had dreamed of for a whole year - kissing Marie again. He wasn’t sure she wanted him to, she was probably still angry at him and besides...

His thoughts were interrupted by her lips against his and her arms around him and then he was kissing her back hard with all the passion and frustration he felt during the past year for losing her number and it felt so, so wonderful, better than their first kiss and it made him tingly inside. Finally, smiling and breathless, they broke apart. Tom put his arm around Marie’s shoulder and looked around, then back at her.

“What’s say we go get to know each other this time?” He asked. “That is, if you don’t have any unfortunate curfews...”

She grinned mischievously at him. “I think I can afford to break that particular curfew.”

“Coffee, then?”

“I love coffee.”

“It’s settled then,” Tom said, and they walked off, hand in hand, getting acquainted, exchanging last names, and writing their numbers on each other’s arms with a permanent marker Marie had the idea to buy at some small roadside store.