Bliss.
Bliss.
“Wil-la. It's not gonna hurt to have one little drink, is it?” Bam asked, waving a half-empty bottle of beer in front of my face.
“Probably not, but I just... I don't want to.”
“C'mon Willa, it's New Year's!”
“Bam, I'm serious.”
“So am I!”
“Brandon, I'm not mucking around. I'm not drinking.”
He sighed, defeated. “I'll go get you a something-else.”
“Thank you.”
I ran a hand through my hair, sighing as I adjusted my position on the barstool. Everyone was drinking, dancing, getting phone numbers of shit-knows-who.
Not me. I was sitting on a barstool, trying in vain to read some book Jonne had bought me for Christmas.
“Here's a coke, Willa. All we got's diet, though. Sorry 'bout that.”
“It's alright, Bam,” I replied, flinching as two people – seemingly Jimmy Pop and one of the many tag-along girls – ran into me from behind.
“Sorry Cabo,” Jimmy slurred, hopping off in the other direction.
I looked at Bam over the bench. “Cabo?”
“I dunno, he's the one who said it.”
“Look, Bammie. I'm gonna go upstairs... I'll be in the living room if you need me,” I said, marking my page and hopping off the barstool.
A look of childish despair spread across his face. “Willa, you gotta stay! There's like, three minutes till the countdown!”
“I know, Bam, but I just... I can't.”
“Can't what?”
“I can't concentrate,” I half-lied; for the most part, I didn't want to stay with the party because I knew I'd be far too tempted to take her New Year's kiss.
I turned on my heel, heading upstairs and flopping down on one of Bam's leather couches.
“Wil-la, come on,” Bam whined.
“No, Bam. I'm staying here.”
“But it's New Year's! You don't have to drink, just... just come do the countdown with us, yeah?”
“Bam... I can't.”
“Why not? Is it because they're all boozed up and you don't like it? Because we can go out on the veranda if that's what it is.”
“It's not that.”
“Ville, tell me.”
“No.”
“Please?”
I looked up from my book, glaring at him. When I saw the look in his eyes, how pleading and even guilty he looked, my glare softened.
“It's... it's a complicated nothing.”
“I may be buzzed, but I'm sober enough to get complicated,” he said sitting down beside me.
“You'll never speak to me again... and Missy-”
“Missy's at her parents' until the fourteenth, Vil.”
“Yeah, but, like... it affects both of you.”
His eyes widened. “She hasn't asked you to do anything, has she?”
I raised my eyebrow at him. “What the fuck? No.”
“Well then, what is it?”
I opened my mouth to speak, only to be interrupted by a naked Novak jumping up the stairs.
“Thirty seconds, babies!” He hollered, before jumping back down the stairs. A dull thud said he'd arrived in the Pirate Bar somewhat-safely.
“It's too hard, Bammie.”
“Tell me. Please?”
I looked at him, letting the silence engulf us.
“I can't.”
“Ville Hermanni Valo, you are fucking telling me what is wrong. I refuse to let next year come without you telling me.”
“There's twenty seconds left.”
“I'll fucking stop time or something. I'm not having you start another year all moody.”
The chorus of “Ten, nine, eight,” started from the floor below us.
I took a deep breath. “I love you, Bammie.”
“What?” Bam asked, disbelief etched across his perfect face.
“I love you and fuck it all if you don't remember in the morning.”
“Four, three, two...”
Their chorus of “One!” was blocked out by some unknown force as a pair of chapped, alcohol-laced lips crashed against mine.
I awoke on Bam's bed, the sun's rays coming through the curtains at just the wrong angle. I looked over at the alarm clock I knew was on his bedside table; 11:34.
I didn't need to look to know he wasn't lying next to me. He was probably passed out on the couch, or dozing in a pool chair.
One thought replayed through my mind. It was like a broken record, minus the irritating skipping.
“I've had a crush on him for nine years and last night he finally kissed me.”
And as I laid there in his bed, his unmistakable scent ensnaring my senses, I decided that kiss was all I'd ever need.
“Probably not, but I just... I don't want to.”
“C'mon Willa, it's New Year's!”
“Bam, I'm serious.”
“So am I!”
“Brandon, I'm not mucking around. I'm not drinking.”
He sighed, defeated. “I'll go get you a something-else.”
“Thank you.”
I ran a hand through my hair, sighing as I adjusted my position on the barstool. Everyone was drinking, dancing, getting phone numbers of shit-knows-who.
Not me. I was sitting on a barstool, trying in vain to read some book Jonne had bought me for Christmas.
“Here's a coke, Willa. All we got's diet, though. Sorry 'bout that.”
“It's alright, Bam,” I replied, flinching as two people – seemingly Jimmy Pop and one of the many tag-along girls – ran into me from behind.
“Sorry Cabo,” Jimmy slurred, hopping off in the other direction.
I looked at Bam over the bench. “Cabo?”
“I dunno, he's the one who said it.”
“Look, Bammie. I'm gonna go upstairs... I'll be in the living room if you need me,” I said, marking my page and hopping off the barstool.
A look of childish despair spread across his face. “Willa, you gotta stay! There's like, three minutes till the countdown!”
“I know, Bam, but I just... I can't.”
“Can't what?”
“I can't concentrate,” I half-lied; for the most part, I didn't want to stay with the party because I knew I'd be far too tempted to take her New Year's kiss.
I turned on my heel, heading upstairs and flopping down on one of Bam's leather couches.
“Wil-la, come on,” Bam whined.
“No, Bam. I'm staying here.”
“But it's New Year's! You don't have to drink, just... just come do the countdown with us, yeah?”
“Bam... I can't.”
“Why not? Is it because they're all boozed up and you don't like it? Because we can go out on the veranda if that's what it is.”
“It's not that.”
“Ville, tell me.”
“No.”
“Please?”
I looked up from my book, glaring at him. When I saw the look in his eyes, how pleading and even guilty he looked, my glare softened.
“It's... it's a complicated nothing.”
“I may be buzzed, but I'm sober enough to get complicated,” he said sitting down beside me.
“You'll never speak to me again... and Missy-”
“Missy's at her parents' until the fourteenth, Vil.”
“Yeah, but, like... it affects both of you.”
His eyes widened. “She hasn't asked you to do anything, has she?”
I raised my eyebrow at him. “What the fuck? No.”
“Well then, what is it?”
I opened my mouth to speak, only to be interrupted by a naked Novak jumping up the stairs.
“Thirty seconds, babies!” He hollered, before jumping back down the stairs. A dull thud said he'd arrived in the Pirate Bar somewhat-safely.
“It's too hard, Bammie.”
“Tell me. Please?”
I looked at him, letting the silence engulf us.
“I can't.”
“Ville Hermanni Valo, you are fucking telling me what is wrong. I refuse to let next year come without you telling me.”
“There's twenty seconds left.”
“I'll fucking stop time or something. I'm not having you start another year all moody.”
The chorus of “Ten, nine, eight,” started from the floor below us.
I took a deep breath. “I love you, Bammie.”
“What?” Bam asked, disbelief etched across his perfect face.
“I love you and fuck it all if you don't remember in the morning.”
“Four, three, two...”
Their chorus of “One!” was blocked out by some unknown force as a pair of chapped, alcohol-laced lips crashed against mine.
I awoke on Bam's bed, the sun's rays coming through the curtains at just the wrong angle. I looked over at the alarm clock I knew was on his bedside table; 11:34.
I didn't need to look to know he wasn't lying next to me. He was probably passed out on the couch, or dozing in a pool chair.
One thought replayed through my mind. It was like a broken record, minus the irritating skipping.
“I've had a crush on him for nine years and last night he finally kissed me.”
And as I laid there in his bed, his unmistakable scent ensnaring my senses, I decided that kiss was all I'd ever need.