“Everything apart from that whisky Archie made me drink.” I grimaced at the memory.
She turned, putting the cigarette out and throwing the last into the nearby bin. “I told you to sip it.”
“Well, I thought I’d look cool if I downed it.”
“Signed your own death warrant there.” She hummed, adding, “And the fact you asked him if you could add a splash of coke first.”
I shook my head, the embarrassment threatening to burn across my cheeks only chased away by the cold air. “I know, he nearly took the kilt off me.” I inhaled deeply, the taste of tobacco still on my tongue. “I am having fun though. I think you’re a big part of that.”
Her face lit up with a happiness I could only wish to wake up and see every day. “Really?”
“Yeah,” I said, taking her hand in mine. It felt so precious, so fragile. “Around you, everything feels a little brighter.”
She swallowed. “I know…I know I’m going home soon.”
“Thank God for the Scots and their love of a bank holiday,” I tried to joke and lighten the mood. I could tell what she was going to say before she even got a chance, a heartburn I’d been fighting the last few days threatening to rear its head again.
“I also want to thank you,” she said, her voice breaking. “For the best Christmas of my life. When I came here, I obviously hadn’t thought it through. And I had no idea what was in store for me. I’m so grateful to have met you, and?—”
I needed her to stop before she went too far, before she broke my heart, so instead I cut her off the only way I knew how. With the press of my lips against hers.
She quieted immediately, melting into my touch, and with the sudden closeness of our heads, I pressed my forehead to hers and said softly, “Don’t speak like that.”
I felt her forehead crinkle against mine. “Like what?”
“Like it’s over,” I rasped, my hands tightening around hers. “I still have you for a couple more days.”
“I know, but—” she started again, but I couldn’t hear it.
“No buts. No goodbyes,” I insisted, the fracturing in my heart threatening to crack. I wasn’t ready yet. Not sure I could surviveit. “I don’t want them.” The words left me in a broken noise, a crackle of the emotion I was pushing back. Like a tide to shore, I knew it was coming, that there was no stopping it. I needed to delay it. “Promise?”
“Promise,” she agreed, relief washing over me as if I’d been granted an extension on death row.
“I don’t want to waste a second I have with you.”
Her head shook against mine, and I saw it then, the storm of sadness that almost turned her blue eyes grey. “I don’t want that either.”
“Then we agree? No goodbyes?”
Her lips met mine, soft and tender, before she added, “No goodbyes.”
“Can we dance?” I asked, an arm unwrapping from around her, instead pushing back a lock of hair behind her ear.
“You want to go back in?”
“No.” I shook my head. “Out here. You can have my jacket.” I stepped away, offering it out to her.
“I’m fine,” she said, but I could see the chill along her skin.
“You need it,” I said, offering it again. This time, she relented, the coat too big on her but, as always, looking stylish.
My hand slid down to the low of her back while the other clasped her hand. With the top of her head brushing against my face and her eyes gazing up, we stepped back and forth, not caring if we looked like fools, giggling as I twirled her around.
When the music from inside suddenly cut out, replaced by a countdown, we knew it was time. The remaining hours we had together dying between us. All we could do was hold each other. The crowd cheered, breaking out into a rendition of ‘Auld Lang Syne’, and she pressed her head into the nook of my neck, resting and letting me guide us.
Fireworks went off somewhere in the background, but my attention remained solely on her, ignorant to the bright lightsfizzing out in the background. And I wanted to hold her forever. For every New Year. For every moment she’d let me. I kissed the back of her head, clutching her body as if holding her tightly would make her stay. Keep her close. Keep her here.
That was the moment I realized I was in love with Kit. Two lovers dancing in the snow, in a parking lot, illuminated by only a streetlamp. It felt foggy, like condensation on a window, as if it weren’t really happening to me, as if I weren’t truly there.
