This time next New Years Eve

Chapter 5 - A midnight kiss

Elle inhaled the rich scent of her vanilla latte, admiring the leaf artwork made on top by hands far more talented than her own. She took a sip of the hot, frothy goodness and hummed her joy.

“I think that’s the best latte I’ve ever had.”

The barista looked pleased as he handed Oliver his own drink; a hot chocolate with whipped cream and marshmallows on top. Elle gave him an odd look.

“What?” He sniffed. “Don’t judge me because you secretly want one.” He then took a sip and sighed. “Okay, you’re right. This is the best hot chocolate I’ve ever had, and I’ve had a few.”

A smear of whipped cream played on his upper lip. Elle smirked and wiped it away with her thumb. She didn’t think twice about the contact, but they both hesitated in the moment as if they had crossed a barrier. His gaze felt thick on her, anticipatory, waiting to see what she’d do next, as if it would decide their fate. A shiver traced her spine, her confidence flourishing under his attention. Not breaking eye contact with him, she drew her thumb to her lips and sucked off the whipped cream with an audible pop.

She swore she saw him swallow.

“Well, erm...” A light flush coloured his neck. “Let’s go.”

She loved his flustered fumble to move past her. “I prefer it up here to the party.”

“That’s not what I mean. Come on.” He held out his hand and Elle was helpless but to take it. He hadn’t led her astray so far and something within her was eager to see where the night would take her.

After an elevator ride to the highest floor, another set of stairs appeared as if from nowhere. At this point, Elle wondered if this Oliver man was the host of the party. He knew the building too well to simply be a guest. She wasn’t sure how that made her feel. She had dated a rich, handsome business owner before and that had been her downfall. She had never been enough for him. Her status, her wealth, her looks were all too low to compete with the bright lights of the upper class.

“Hey, are you okay? We don’t have to go up if you don’t want to?” Oliver squeezed her hand, concern all over his face.

Elle took a look at the stairs. They were simple, metal, nowhere near as grand as the one that they had taken from the ballroom. She knew where they were headed, and her curiosity had piqued just above her insecurities.

“I was just realising that I was premature before and now is your chance to murder me.” She smiled.

“Damn. You figured me out.” Oliver grinned. “At least I was a courteous murderer and got you your favourite drink first.”

“I think I’m going to need more than that to stay warm out there.” Elle was getting more and more aware of how thin her dress was. The straps on her arms weren't going to protect her from the midnight air.

A sudden mass of black cloth cloaked her, and was held closed by Oliver’s protective hand. In just a black shirt his features seemed to soften and gleam with playful tease that had her heart thumping. His suit jacket was large, covering her from shoulder to thigh, wrapping her in a warmth she wanted to sink into.

“Better?”

Elle didn’t have the voice to answer, but she managed a nod.

She was thankful for the jacket the moment they stepped onto the roof. The breeze was only light, but it had the bitter bite that winter brewed, nipping her cheeks red and pushing her closer into Oliver’s side. His arm came around her as easily as a breath. It felt just as natural too. His cologne was musky and warm, tempting her to burrow deeper into the jacket, but she restrained the strange urge.

“Why the roof?” Elle had half expected to find another party up there, but it was only them.

“You’ll see in about ten minutes.”

She sucked in a breath. It was that time already. Ten minutes away from a new year, a fresh start, a kiss to bring it luck. Now, Elle was thankful for the chill. It hid the rosy blush creeping up from deep within her.

Get it together. She grumbled to herself. It’s just a kiss. You’re not some virgin schoolgirl. He might not even want to kiss you.

She couldn’t convince herself of the last statement. Oliver kept throwing her sideways glances, his small fidgets as adorable as they were full of nerves.

Elle couldn’t quite face him yet, though she felt the minutes ticking past like a butterfly added to her stomach with every second. She breathed deep, taking in a lungful of the crisp city air. The building they stood on top of was one of the largest in Burnbury, looking over the life beneath them. The sounds of laughter, shouts and joy floated up from below, the city a mosaic of bright lights twinkling their excitement for the approaching new year. It was beautiful.

“Don’t you love New Year’s Eve?”

“Nope.”

“What?” Elle’s mouth dropped open but only for a heartbeat before a torrent of words escaped. “But you’re here, at a New Year’s Eve party. What are you doing here if you don’t like the holiday?”

“I was promised free drinks, the chance to meet pretty women and possibly a midnight kiss.” He paused just long enough to catch the hitch of her breath. “It has lived up to expectations so far.”

“New Year’s Eve is more than drinks and... and kissing.” She huffed. “It’s all about letting go of the difficulties of the past year and making a new start. It’s for new beginnings and hope. That’s it, it’s the holiday of hope.”

“To some.” He shrugged. That same shadow from earlier crossed his eyes but, like it was a practised art, he covered it with a smile. “There are many other holidays that are better than New Year’s Eve.” Elle snorted. “Don’t believe me? Then, I will show you.”

Elle didn’t quite know what he meant but there was an strong intent in his gaze that made her heart flutter. At some point when he was speaking, he had leaned closer to her, dipping his head down so their eyes were almost level. So were their lips.

‘30... 29...’

The countdown had begun, echoing from far beneath them but called out by an entire city of voices just for them to hear.

“To make this a fair wager, maybe you could show me some of the charms of the New Year’s Eve traditions?” A smirk pulled at the edge of his lips.

His ease worked through her, and she mirrored his smile. “Oh?”

‘20...19...’

“Well,” Oliver’s hands moved to her waist, gently turning them so they faced each other. “I heard a kiss at midnight gives you good luck for the year ahead.”

“Did you now?”

He hummed, eyes flickering to her lips. “So if I share a kiss with a wonderful woman, and I’m feeling all warm and fuzzy... From the hot chocolate, of course.”

“Of course.” She nodded as sincerely as she could with her growing smile.

“Then, I’d be set to have the best year of my life.”

“I suppose it would depend on how good the kiss is.”

“Oh trust me,” he leaned closer, nose almost brushing hers. “It’ll be good.”

‘10... 9...’

Her arms slid over his shoulder, hands locking behind his head. There was a tension between them that wound with every centimeter they shed. It drew them closer and closer until not even the chill could stand between them.

‘3...2...’

“Let me show you.”

As cheers rang out a chorus of joy from below, Oliver’s lips pressed to hers.