The Thrill Is Gone

Rodolfo found it impossible to fall asleep while his friend was away. He was concerned about her well being, where it was they’d taken her to, what time she’d be heading home. He’d tried calling her, hoping to at least get a few words in with her, but Paulina had forgotten her cell phone on the kitchen counter, right next to the basket that housed all her fruit. He’d really hoped that he’d be able to get her on the line, he didn’t even want to have a long conversation, he just wanted to make sure everything was okay, but her having forgotten the phone, left him without a means to contact her. All he could do was sit in the living room, and wait for her to come back.

And he sat there, dutifully, and he attempted to watch television, though he didn’t really have much luck at it. He kept alternating between stealing glances at the door, then at the clock in the far wall, then briefly at the television screen, before redirecting his gaze back to the door. That was how he spent seven and a half hours. That was how he was until nearly four in the morning, when Paulina finally showed up.

The moment the doorknob started turning, he bolted from his place on the couch, and ran straight to the door. He wasn’t trying to play it cool, he wasn’t going to sit there and seem like he was chilling, like him or any of their other friends would’ve normally done. He was worried about her. She’d been gone way to long with a woman who didn’t care for her in the slightest. So he was concerned about what happened, how she’d gotten on and most importantly, if she was alright. That was what mattered most to him. He just wanted to make sure his best friend was doing alright.

“Fucking Paulina!” he exclaimed. He rarely used her full name, reserving it only when she genuinely pissed him off or when he was worried. “What took your ass so long?”

“Nothing really, just lost track of time. You know how it is, sometimes you get so caught up in things that you forget what time it is, and before you know it, it’s been hours.” She said, trying to keep the conversation light, and tilting her head slightly downwards to hide her bloodshot eyes. “I'm back though, so that’s what matters.” She closed the door behind her and stepped further into the apartment. “What’s your ass doing up so late anyways? You should be sleeping. I told you not to wait. Or were you worried about me?” she made an attempt at teasing, though her voice wasn’t able to convey the playfulness she’d intended for it.

“Nah, not even, not worried. Hah. I was just . . . tu sabes (you know), I just wanted to know what’s up.” He absentmindedly scratched the base of his neck. “So what’s up? What’d she want?”

“Nothing much,” she lied. “Just wanted to see me is all.”

“What do I look like a menso (idiot)? Wait. Don’t answer that,” he added, hastily. “All I'm saying is no one sends out three people to pick someone up if they just want to see them. Even people like them don’t do that shit. So what happened? For real, Paulina, what happened? And don’t say nothing happened, and don’t say you don’t want to talk about it, because I know your ass does. You just don’t want to cuz then you feel like you’re burdening people and . . . fuck that. We’re homies. I got your back, and you know you can tell me anything. So go on, dime (tell me).”

“It’s . . .” she was going to say nothing, but just as she started, Rodolfo shot her a look that made it clear he wouldn’t accept that as an answer. “Look, Rudy, thanks for worrying, but it’s late and I’d rather not talk about it. I just want to have a drink.”

“That bad then?” he meant it as a joke, but she didn’t take it as one.

“I . . .” Paulina had planned to take a bottle into the bathroom and cry herself to sleep in there, so Rodolfo would be able to get to bed in peace. She’d planned on sulking on her own, but the moment her dark brown eyes met his equally dark orbs, she felt her resolve falter. “. . . I hate her.”

He hesitated a moment, unsure as to how to proceed. In all the years that he’d known her, he’d never seen her look so torn, not even when she broke up with Joaquin after he’d proposed to her. There was something different in her look, in the way she carried herself, and it took a moment to take that all in, to be able to say something.

“Fuck her.” He didn’t even know what the Queen had done, but he already knew that he hated the elderly monarch. Nobody fucked with his friends. “Fuck her and fuck those putos (cowards) that picked you up. Fuck them all.”

She nodded in agreement. “None of those pricks know anything about how to treat people. They think that just because they’re royal or work for the fucking royalty that they can do whatever they want and treat people however they feel like, but that shit isn’t right.” She gritted her teeth as she tried to keep her tears from falling. “Fucking hell, I'm gonna grab a bottle.”

“I’ll get it.” Rodolfo offered. “You just go sit on the couch, kick back and I’ll get that to you. Want some tequila? Hold up, stupid question. Of course you want tequila.”

He rushed over to the cabinet where she had her bottles stored, and threw the small wooden door open. His eyes scanned the inside, searching for her favorite tequila bottle. They’d finished one a few days earlier, having decided to indulge while they danced to rancheras that reminded them of home, and for a second, he feared that that had been the last of that particular brand, but luckily for them, tucked away in the back of cabinet, was an unopened bottle, a bottle which Rodolfo hastily took from the cabinet.

It wasn’t long before he’d placed the bottle and two glasses on the coffee table in front of Paulina. He removed the plastic, and then poured them each a half filled glass. They didn’t drink in shots, not when they were together. Back home, everyone drank tequila as if it were a mixed drink, it was meant to sipped, savored, and some of the older people added a bit of Squirt, a citrus flavored soft drink, that always seemed to go well with tequila. Back home, no one really took shots, they took their time drinking, and always ended up drunk off their asses, and that was precisely what Paulina and Rodolfo planned to do in the early hours of the morning.

“Here you go.” He said as he handed Paulina her glass. It was then, as her arm extended, that he noticed the irritation along her wrists. “What the fuck?” he whispered, just loud enough to be heard. “What the hell happened to your wrist?”

“Remember how I said they don’t know how to treat people?” she asked, and waited until he nodded to proceed. “Well, when we got in the car they told me that we weren’t heading to London, apparently Sandringham was where we were headed, and that’s like three hours from here so I told them that I wasn’t gonna go. It was too far, too late, and I wasn’t in the damn mood for it, but they went crazy on me, and then I went crazy on them.”

“You had to.” He commented. “If people tell you they aren’t taking you where they’re supposed to, you gotta get crazy.”

“Exactly!” she was glad he agreed. “But they didn’t like that I was acting up, so that prick, the one that looked like he had shit under his nose, gave the order to cuff me.”

He’d lifted the glass to his lips to take a long drink, but when he heard that, he lowered it. “You’re shitting me.”

“Not even, I put it down. I mean, you saw this.” She lifted both wrists. “They had me like a fucking criminal in there. They even wanted to muzzle me because I was screaming so much! But thankfully Kamal stood up for me.”

“Which one’s Kamal?”

“He’s the one that works with Henry, one of his personal security details.”

“Oh okay.” He took a sip. “So what’d he do? Kamal, that is.”

“He told them enough was enough. That the handcuffs were bad enough.” She grew quiet, remembering how he’d threatened to call Harry. “He even threatened them by saying he’d call Henry, tell them what they were doing with me, and that . . . well, that scared them off, and thankfully, because of him, I didn’t get muzzled. But those assholes, ugh, those assholes, they had me like some criminal. And they took me all the way to Sandringham like that. Can you believe that shit? Three hours in handcuffs. Fucking ridiculous . . .” she lifted the glass to her lips and took a long drink, cringing slightly at the familiar sensation that scratched at her throat. “And that’s not even the worst part. If it had been just that then . . .” she sniffled, forcing back the tears. “. . . I wouldn’t be crying like an idiot, but then I met the Queen, and things just went from bad to worse.”

“But how could it?” he blurted out. Unsure as to how things could’ve gotten worse. “Not that I don’t believe you, it’s just, you were handcuffed! How do things get worse from there?”

“She reminded me of my inferiority,” she whispered, her voice so soft and vulnerable that it sounded like she’d fall apart at any moment. “She had the fucking nerve to throw that in my face.” Her jaw clenched, nostrils flared as she fought off a sob. “Can you believe that shit?”

“You’re not inferior.” Rodolfo stated, upset that his friend would ever think she was.

“That’s what I told her.” She sniffled. “I told her off, told her that my worth isn’t defined by the money in my bank account, but . . . but I feel like, well I’ve felt like this before,” she admitted. “And I'm always fighting with myself over it, but sometimes, I really do inferior.” She hated saying that aloud. She’d never told anyone of that, not her brothers, not her friends. Her feelings of inferiority were something she kept to herself, but she’d had enough. She needed to vent, if only for a little while. “They’re not like us, Rudy,” she went on. “They live in these massive houses. That aren’t, even really houses anymore! They’re fucking mansions, but they call them houses, and they have all this staff, staff that greets you at the door and takes you to the parlour where they are and introduces you, and it’s just . . . it’s overwhelming, because there I am, this kid from Azusa, walking into a royal residence where Prince Charles lives. And it’s . . . it’s surreal. And sometimes, as a result of that, I feel inferior. Then that bitch threw that in my face, and I just can’t take it. I can’t always take it!” she sobbed, her voice breaking. “I can’t. And I want to, because I love him, but there’s always something to deal with. When it’s not the fucking press, its people trying to take pictures of me, and now this? Its like doesn’t she know I’d never sell him out? Doesn’t she know I’d do anything for him?”

“Wait. Wait. Hold up. What do you mean, sell him out?”

“The bitch wanted me to sell him out to her.” With the fabric of her shirt, she wiped away the fallen tears. “She had me escorted to her house, she fucking insulted me, and then had the nerve to tell me that if I helped her make him be like what she wants him to be, that she’d not only approve of me, but pay for law school.”

“Hija de su re chingada madre. ¿Quien se cree la babosa? Ay no. Nomás por que es reina no significa que puede tratar a la gente así. ¡Se las va ver con migo! Mejor dicho, le decimos a tu güerito y el le que le diga algo o que no lo traiga para que nosotros le digas algo. (Daughter of a bitch! Who the hell does she think she is? Oh no. Just because she’s a queen that doesn’t mean she’s allowed to treat people like this. She’s gonna have to deal with me now that I know what happened! Better yet, we’ll let your güerito know and he’ll be able to tell her something or he can bring her over to us and we can tell her off.)” Rodolfo grumbled, disgusted by the so called Queen’s behavior.

He didn’t know much about the monarchy, nor did he care to learn. To him, they were nothing special, just a relic of days gone by that would soon cease to function, but the little that he did know of them, was that they had to be polite and well mannered. That they were meant to represent superior breeding, but there was the Queen, acting like a massive cunt, and he felt his hatred for her boil over. People weren’t supposed to treat other people like that. There was meant to be some basic respect that ought to be given to everyone, but the Queen had insulted his friend beyond belief, and he wasn’t just going to keep quiet. Something had to be done. He wasn’t exactly sure as to how they’d go about telling her off, but he knew they had to at least give it a try.

“I'm not telling Henry about this.”

“But his abuelita (grandma) –”

“I know what his abuelita did!” she said rather forcefully. “But he has enough to deal with.”

“So do you!” argued Rodolfo. “He needs to know what she tried to pull on you. That shit’s not something you can just let slide, Paulina. You got to do something.”

“I already did something! I told her off! I cursed at her. Okay? I cursed at the Queen. I said fuck a bunch of fucking times, and she was all wide eyed and flustered. I did my bit. I spoke my peace with her. But I'm not getting Henry in on this. He’s starting his training soon, and I don’t want him to have to worry over this. He’s got enough on his plate. And you better not say a word to him about this or else I’ll kick your ass so hard, you won’t ever be able to sit right again.”

He put his hands up in the air. “Fine, fine, I won’t say anything. But you should. He needs to know what kind of stunt she pulled.”

“He doesn’t.” Paulina reached for her drink. “That was just something for me to deal with, and I’ve dealt with it. I’ll mope for awhile, because, well, I feel like fucking moping, but it’ll be fine.”

“Don’t you think he’ll notice your wrist though?” Rodolfo reminded. “Damage like that’s gonna take at least a week to recover. And isn’t he supposed to get here on the 30th?”

“He is, but he won’t notice. I’ll put on bracelets and a watch. That’ll cover them up.”

“You don’t wear bracelets though. Not unless you’re going somewhere formal. That’s how you are, and I'm sure he’s been with you long enough to know that about you.”

She took a long gulp of tequila before speaking. “Fuck it. Then I’ll figure something out. I'm sure I can keep him from noticing my wrists. How hard could possibly be?”

That proved a lot more difficult than Paulina had anticipated. She’d worn a long sleeve shirt on the day that Harry arrived, and had even accessorized it with a bracelet that he’d made her during their holiday in Africa. He didn’t think anything of her wearing a long sleeve shirt, ever since winter started, she’d been wearing long sleeve shirts or cardigans or sweaters to keep warm. So there was nothing out of the norm about that. The bracelet though, that did catch his attention, but then he noticed it was the one he’d made her and decided that she’d ended up missing him while he was away, and had taken to wearing it as a constant reminder of him. That was something his vanity was quick to approve of. He didn’t even think there was something wrong with her wrists.

It wasn’t until the following morning that he noticed the irritation on her wrists. If it hadn’t been for the fact that her sleeve had rolled up slightly, he wouldn’t have noticed it so soon, but it did roll up, exposing just enough skin for him to assess the damage. And then, as carefully and discreetly as he could, he checked the other one. There was even more irritation present on that one and it was obvious that the skin had broken.

There was a moment of panic in his mind, a moment of doubt which led to his thinking that perhaps Paulina and Rodolfo had gotten a little kinky while he was away, that she’d gotten herself into an affair of sorts with an old friend from back home, but that foolish thought was quickly cast aside. There was no sexual attraction between Paulina and Rodolfo, no chemistry of that sort. It was strictly platonic, like it was between Harry and his mates. And Harry knew that. He was certain of it. But if that hadn’t been the case, then what was? What had happened? Did she somehow end up getting detained by the authorities? No. That couldn’t have possibly been it. He would’ve heard of it on the teli.

Wanting to find out what exactly had happened, he did the only thing he could. He woke her up.

“Darling . . .” he whispered in a soft voice, gently pushing away the hair from her face. “Paulin, love, you’ve got to wake up.”

“Go away,” she mumbled.

He smiled, amused by how grouchy she was. “Afraid I can’t. I need you to wake up.”

“It’s too fucking early to be functioning,” she grumbled and then turned so that her back faced him. “Go knock one out if you can’t sleep,” she told him. “Maybe that’ll help.”

“I don’t want to knock one out. Just want you to wake up is all. Please?” Harry moved towards her, until his body was pressed right against hers. “Come on, love.” He placed a few delicate kisses on her exposed skin. “Wake up . . .”

“What’s the fuck’s going on?” she asked, finally turning to face him. “You okay?”

“Yes. Of course, I'm fine.” He reassured with a smile. “I’ve only just woken up and I was wondering . . . well, not really wondering long since I’ve only just noticed it, but I . . . that is to say, I noticed something.”

“And it couldn’t wait until later?” her eyes struggled to remain opened.

His smile faltered. “No. It couldn’t.”

“What is it then?”

“What happened to your wrists?”

It took everything she had to keep her eyes from snapping wide open, but even in her semi asleep state, she was conscious enough to know that it was best to play it cool, make it seem like it wasn’t that big of a deal. She had, after all, already come up with a lie to tell him. She planned on saying that she and Rodolfo had gone to a club, and that while he was off taking a piss, she’d gotten into a fight which led to her detainment, so that was what she said.

“Nothing really,” she lied, seeming perfectly unaffected. “I just sort of got detained by some security, but they let me go and I'm alright.”

“Wait.” His mind struggled to take in what she’d just said. “What? What do ya mean ya got detained?” his voice went louder than it should have.

“Shh,” she told him. “Rudy’s sleeping. I don’t want to wake his ass up.”

Rodolfo was fast asleep on the bed, while they lay on the floor. He’d insisted that they take the bed, that he’d have no trouble on the couch, but since he was her guest, Paulina insisted that he have the bed, and he knew enough not to go against her hospitality.

“Sorry, forget he was here,” apologized harry. “But what do ya mean ya got detained?”

“It’s nothing serious. It wasn’t the police or anything like that, it was just private security,” that was a half truth. “We went to grab some drinks and while Rudy went to take a piss, I sort of good into a little argument. It was fine, really, but security grabbed me and cuffed me, but it wasn’t a big deal and when they realized who I was, they let me go.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive.” She hated being dishonest, but she didn’t want to cause any more arguments between him and his grandmother. “Henry, mi amorsito, I know you’re worried because it looks all intense, but it was nothing serious. The only reason my wrists look as bad as they do is because I put up a fight, you know how I am. I can never go anywhere willingly.” She forced a chuckle. “But nothing bad happened. They weren’t overly forceful with me, and the press didn’t find out. I'm good. So don’t worry. Please, don’t.”

“Can’t help it though, can I? Don’t reckon I fancy the thought of someone cuffing you.” His features hardened at the thought of her being handcuffed like a criminal. “Why don’t ya tell me where it was you lot were and I’ll have a chat with the security there? Make a few things clear to them.”

“There’s nothing to make clear. I got rowdy and they did their job. That’s all there is to it.” She said, firmly. “Hmm, how about we go back to sleep?” she proposed, smiling sleepily. “We’ve got a long day of doing nothing ahead of us, and I intend to be well rested for it.”

She wasn’t lying when she said they had a day of doing nothing ahead of them. It was New Years Eve, which meant there was nothing to do until well into the night, so they spent the duration of the morning sleeping, spent the afternoon lounging about her apartment in pajamas and snacking, and then, at eight at night, they packed an overnight bag and were driven to London where they’d be ringing in the New Year at a club that one of Harry’s friends owned.

They were to spend the night at the club where Paulina had first gotten properly drunk with Harry. He’d even gone so far as to procure the privates upstairs area for them, just in case they tired of the crowd downstairs. Well, the upstairs wouldn’t be strictly occupied by them; it would also be accessed by a few of Harry’s closest mates and Rodolfo. It was going to be a wild night, one that would end with them returning to a privately owned flat of his father’s, which Harry had asked to borrow for the week.

Charles had always been hesitant about letting his son stay there. He worried of what might go on in there, if drug use would take place, if the flat would end up trashed, but knowing that Paulina would be there, made him more willing to hand over the keys to his son. He thought highly of her. She was an accomplished young woman with a sound head on her shoulders. She was to be trusted, and he was to trust his son a bit more when she was around.

So it was to that flat that they arrived to at a quarter past nine on New Year’s Eve. And surprisingly enough, there was no press there to meet them. It was a hard to reach flat in a secluded, gated area. There was a security booth on both ends of the small street, which made it so that even if the press followed them there, they wouldn’t be able to get near the entrance of the flat. That was one of the reasons why Charles had kept it all to himself. It was a quiet place that he had often retreated to in the days of his youth, and more than once in the past, it had housed the passions of him and Camilla.

But for now, it would house the young lovers and their friend. It would be a place where they would base themselves from during their stay in London, which was set to last until Rodolfo returned to America. They hadn’t initially planned on staying that long. Well, that is to say, Paulina and Rodolfo hadn’t planned to stay that long. They thought they’d be there New Year’s Eve and New Year’s Day, but that right after, they’d go back to Oxford, but Harry thought that showing Rodolfo around London would be a better time. It’d give them more time to get acquainted, and he also knew that Paulina would be very much thrilled with his being so friendly towards her closest friend.

They didn’t stay long at the flat, only long enough to unpack and get ready for the club. Paulina had already straightened her hair in Oxford, so she just had to put on make up and get dressed. In no time at all they were climbing into the back of the vehicle, waiting to be driven to the club where a wall of photographers awaited their arrival.

“What do I do?” Rodolfo found himself asking. “I mean, like when we’re out there. Am I supposed to pose or something? Cuz if I do, then I think I’ll stay back and get out of the car in an alley or something, that way I can get in unnoticed.”

“You don’t have to pose.” Paulina addressed his concerns. “And the truth is that we don’t really even take long in getting in. We don’t stop and smile and do all that crap. We rush.”

“That alright?” he had trouble thinking it was acceptable for them not to go through the camera process at a club.

Harry nodded. “My mate owns the club, so he has security details waiting for us. They’ll usher us in, keep us from being seen too much and he’s provided one for you as well, so you don’t have to deal with their nonsense. I know it can be exhausting have cameras shoved in one’s face.”

“Ah, man, you didn’t have to get me one of those security details. Fuck. I don’t want to be an inconvenience.”

“You’re not one at all.” Harry flashed a reassuring smile. “Really, you’re not. I was going to have security details either way so there was no problem procuring a third. Believe me, Rudy. It’s no bother.” He paused. “But if you feel truly uncomfortable, then I can find my mate and maybe he can let you in through his private door.”

That was a very tempting thought, but Rodolfo didn’t want to hassle Harry.

“Thanks Harry, but I'm good, if we’re just gonna rush in, I’ll be fine. Thanks though.”

“Right, well if you need anything though, anything at all just ask me or Paulina, and if you can’t find us then Alistair and Kamal will be more than happy to be of assistance.” Harry fixed his jacket.

“We will indeed, Sir.” Alistair spoke on behalf of both security details.

“Thanks man!” exclaimed Rodolfo, flashing them a smile.

“That reminds me.” Harry reached into his pocket and pulled out a gold colored wristband. “You’ll need this, Rudy. Come on; stretch your right arm please.”

Rodolfo did as he was told. “What’s this for?” he asked, watching with curious eyes as Harry secured the wristband.

“For drinks,” replied Harry. “You’ve now unlimited access to the bar.”

“What?” Rodolfo nearly shouted. “Nah, this is too much. Here. Take this off. I can’t accept this. You don’t know how much I drink. It’s too fucking much. I mean, thanks for the gesture but no.” Rodolfo rambled.

“I didn’t pay for it.” Harry chuckled. “My mate owns the place, remember? I got it for free, and we have our drinks free as well, so drink up. Don’t be shy about it.”

Rodolfo opened his mouth to protest. “I –”

“If you take it off, I’ll be insulted.” Harry cut him off. “And I won’t be stopping by your house when I go to America. I’ll walk by it, but I shan’t go in, even if you insist.”

It was then that Rodolfo’s face broke out into a grin. “When the fuck are you heading to Azusa? Last time we talked you said you didn’t know.”

“Well, to be honest, I don’t quite know when, but I imagine it’ll be sometime after the degree ceremony.” Harry turned to Paulina. “When’s that again?”

“July 17th.” She told him.

“What day’s that?”

“A Friday,” she replied. “And my parents fly home on Saturday night, remember?”

“Right, right, and they get here a week before? I vaguely remember you mentioning that.”

“You only ever vaguely remember me mentioning things,” she chuckled. “But yes, they show up on Monday along with the rest of my family.” The rest of her family consisted of her brothers and their significant others. Her niece and nephew would stay behind with other relatives.

“I reckon I’ll have to plan something for them then. I’ll want to be liked of course.”

“I'm sure we’ll manage that well enough.” She flashed him one of those smiles that had the ability to leave him feeling lightheaded.

“So sometime in late July then?” asked Rodolfo, feeling awkward about all the smiling and staring going on between the young lovers.

“What? Late July? Yes, yes, of course,” said Harry, suddenly remembering their conversation. “So I’ll be there sometime in late July. And when I visit, I’ll fully be expecting you to cover my drinking expenses. So I think it’d be only fair if you accept the wristband.”

“Well, in that case, I have to.” Rodolfo’s grin widened. “And I’ll even stock up on the tequila from my parent’s town in Jalisco. They make the best batch there.”

“Not even,” Paulina chimed in. “The tequila from Penjamo is way better.”

“It’s alright, but the one from Jalisco’s the best. Jalisco fucking invented tequila,” reminded Rodolfo with a smug look on his face.

“And Guanajuato perfected it.” Paulina argued.

“Are you lot really fighting over tequila?” Harry questioned. “Bloody hell, the batches must be fantastic if they’ve got you arguing about them. I suppose I’ll have to have a bit of – who am I kidding? I’ll have loads more than a bit. I’ll get myself a generous sample of both, and decide for myself which is best. Though I have to admit I'm partial to Guanajuato. I'm very fond of what comes from there.”

“You hear that?” Paulina asked Rodolfo with a bright smile on her face. “He’s fond of what comes from Guanajuato.”

Before Rodolfo could utter a response, Alistair announced that it was time to make their exit. Kamal quickly abandoned his seat in the front, and stepped outside so he could open the door for them. He would be the private security that would lead them into the club, and afterwards, once the vehicle had been parked, Alistair would join them.

One by one, the three young adults stepped out of the vehicle, and as soon as the press saw that it was Prince Harry, they began calling after him and Paulina, imploring that they look their way, that they flash a smile or give each other a kiss. The young couple didn’t do any of that. Instead they were rushed into the club. Harry led the way, he held Paulina’s hand tightly all the while, and Paulina held onto Rodolfo, to keep him from straying.

As soon as they stepped inside, they were swept away in the land of indulgence. All around them people drank; they grinded against each other on the dance floor, and gave into their most basic desires. There were a few fights, there always happen to be a few when the alcohol starts flowing, but there was no fighting done between Harry and Paulina. They lost themselves in one another. In their smiles, their laughter, the way their bodies moved against one another as they danced.

For the first time, in what seemed to be a very long time, they were nothing more than just a couple of hormonal twenty-something year olds that were determined to get drunk and indulge themselves completely. Their indulgence might have resulted in them having awful hangovers when they woke up on New Year’s Day, but for the moment, the alcohol made them even fonder of one another, it made them more open in their public displays of affection, and it led to the most heated New Year’s kiss that either had ever had in their lives. And that was well worth the price of a hangover.