“Are you going to kiss Sexy Michael at midnight?” Geoff asks when I approach.
“Why?” I say wryly. “Because if I don’t, you will?”
He licks his lips, eying Michael across the room. “It’s worth a shot.”
I give a faint laugh and look down at my drink, feeling myself sag. I’d give anything to kiss Michael tonight, but I know it’s not a good idea.
Geoff tilts his head. “You okay?”
“He did kind of suggest we kiss.”
Geoff’s eyes widen and he almost squeals. I have to whack him on the arm to keep him in line.
“I’m notgoingto. God, I want to, so badly. But I can’t.”
“Oh, justlivea little!” Geoff cries, and I give a melancholy little chuckle.
“I will, one day. But not tonight. Please keep me away from him at midnight.”
“Really?” Geoff’s shoulders slump. “Are you sure?”
“Yes,” I say resolutely. I take a long slurp from my drink. Michael is across the room chatting to one of our neighbors, and longing tugs at me as I watch him.
I wrestle my gaze away and turn back to Geoff, begging him to distract me. We down some tequila shots and talk for a bit, but I can’t quite follow what he’s saying because I still have one eye on Michael, and I’m struggling to focus on anything at this point with all the booze in my system. Then before I know what’s happening, we’re counting down. The room spins around me as we count, as everyone hugs and cheers and, as if on a timer, Auld Lang Syne plays through the speakers.
I catch Michael’s eye across the room and he tilts his head to one side, smiling, raising his glass to me.
But I can’t bring myself to respond. Instead, I feel a surge of misery.
This fucking sucks. All I want is to kiss him but I’ve quarantined myself on the other side of the room, for reasons I’m struggling to even recall. This isn’t a happy new year. This is a crappy new year.
I push my way past a few people and stumble into my bedroom nook, yanking the curtain closed behind me, frantically trying to remind myself why I shouldn’t kiss him.
“Hey.” He pokes his head in through the curtain, his face drawn with concern. “Are you okay?”
I pull off my party hat and slump onto the bed. “Not really.”
He hesitates, then slips in through the curtain and pulls it closed behind him, removing his own hat as he sits beside me. “So this is your room,” he says, looking around in the dim light. “I like it. Very cozy.”
I can feel the heat from his body next to me. It takes all my strength not to lunge at him, not to tell him that I’ll give up everything if I can have him. Somehow, I manage to keep it together, staring at the floor and trying to make it stop spinning.
Michael heaves out a sigh and pushes to his feet. “I should go.” He rubs the back of his neck, a deep frown etching itself across his brow. “I don’t think you want me here.”
“I do,” I say hastily. I stand and put my hand on his chest, meeting his gaze. I can feel the thrum of his heartbeat against my palm and it’s hypnotizing. His eyes are dark and fierce, almost dangerous in the way they pierce through everything, straight into me. I let out a helpless little whimper, sliding my hand up around the back of his neck and stroking my fingertips over the soft, warm skin at his nape. He swallows visibly, the muscles in his neck flexing beneath my hand, and heat races up my body.
Fuck.
I give him a pained look. “I’m trying to stay away from you. We agreed to just be friends, but you’re making it impossible.”
“I know. I’m sorry.” He grimaces, staring down at the floor. “This is harder than I thought it would be. I just… it’s New Year’s Eve and I wanted to kiss you.” He pulls in a raspy breath, taking a step back, and my hand falls to my side. “But you’re right. It wasn’t fair of me to ask, and if you don’t want to—”
“You think I don’twantto kiss you?!” I say incredulously. I wobble on my heels and steady myself against my dresser. “OfcourseI want to kiss you. Fuck, Michael, I want to get down on my knees in front of you right now and…” I trail off, my eyes dropping to the obvious arousal behind his zipper. Saliva pools in my mouth at the sight and I let out another little whimper.
“Jesus, Alex.” He grinds his jaw. “You can’t say shit like that to me.”
I lift my gaze to his. My face is flushed from more than just drinking now, but I don’t care about keeping it together anymore. “Why not?”
“Because you’re driving me fuckingcrazy,” he growls, reaching to adjust the bulge in his jeans. A muscle ticks in his neck and I can tell he’s physically restraining himself from reaching for me.
