The waiter smiles, slowly. It’s damn erotic to watch, which also makes me panic. I’m getting turned on by this stranger and I never do that. I’m Mr. Must Know Your Birthdate, Astrological Sign, and Criminal Record before I allow myself to think a man is cute.
“I like the way you blush,” he tells me.
“You’re working,” I reply, which is nonsensical and not at all relevant.
“Am I?” he asks, which is just as nonsensical a response. But I don’t have time to analyze it because he’s offering me the gin bottle in his hand, and for some reason I don’t understand, I’m accepting it.
I lift the bottle to my lips. My brain is screaming a list of my own rules getting broken here. I don’t share drinks with anyone. I don’t hit on strangers. I don’t eye fuck strangers, and I’m pretty sure I’m doing that right now. I take a big gulp of the strong liquid and fight down a choke as I swallow.
He takes the bottle back and lets it drop to the floor. It lands with a hard thunk and tips over. I burst into action, dropping down and righting it before too much liquid can spill onto the gleaming hardwood floors. When I stand back up he’s grinning. “You’re one of the good ones, huh?”
“I… I mean I try.”
“You succeed.”
“That’s a first,” I retort and he blinks.
“Enough with the pity party,” the waiter groans. His eyes are serious, I think. I mean I don’t know him but he seems serious. “You know living well is the best revenge right? So live.Well. If you’re not sure how, I can show you examples.”
I bite my bottom lip like I always do when I'm stressed, which is most of the time. He reaches up and places the pad of his thumb flat against my lip, and with his fingers under my chin, he pulls my lip from its captivity between my teeth.
I step away from him. “Look, I don’t know you. I don’t do hook-ups or whatever. It’s just… out of my comfort zone.”
The roar of the crowd is pretty loud again but the thump of the DJ’s music has disappeared. He is still holding my chin. “Who did you come with?”
“A friend.”
“And where is that friend?”
Our eyes lock again. I feel another firework lighting up in my belly. “Fucking a girl somewhere on this boat.”
He laughs. It’s a light, carefree sound that is very appealing. And contagious. I feel my lips twitch into a smile. And then my phone buzzes. “So your friend knows how to live well, then. Even if you don’t.”
I start to walk away, moving past him, even though I’m more lost than ever now and have no idea where I’m going. When I feel his hand on my wrist I freeze. “Don’t run away. It’s almost midnight.”
“So?’
“So I need someone to kiss.”
I turn around. The movement pulls me a step away from him and he lets go of my wrist. Even though the proposition was bold, his expression is soft. But he starts to backtrack. "I mean, if you're not interested then no harm, no foul. Have a great night. But kissing someone at midnight, on New Year's, is good luck. And I could use some luck. And you could too."
“I… I…” I swallow. My heart starts beating harder and faster. “I don’t kiss strangers.”
“There’s a lot of don’ts in your life.”
He’s not wrong. The year that’s about to start suddenly plays in my brain like a movie preview. And all I see is work, sleep, weekends watching Netflix alone… that’s it. Is that, as my mysterious waiter would say, livingwell? Suddenly the year seems like it would be a lot more interesting if I had this random encounter to look back on.
That roar of the crowd stops being a bunch of garbled noise and comes together in a countdown. “Ten. Nine. Eight.”
I step into him. This stranger with a pretty face, a perfect smile, and no name.
“Seven. Six. Five.”
He reaches up and brushes my cheek with his fingertips as his tongue slides across his bottom lip.
“Four. Three. Two.”
“I’m Gabriel,” he whispers.
