A/N: I was originally going to post this on New Year's Eve or New Years, but I kinda stayed up late and got home later than expected. Sorry, but enjoy!
New Year's Resolution
It's January the first…in other words the start of a new year. Okay so just like almost every other person in this world I always make a new year's resolution. Unfortunately in all of the twenty-one years of my existence I have never been able to stick to any of my resolutions. And just like every year I promise that this year will be the year that I stick to whatever I declared at the beginning. Of course I have my doubts, but it's sort of become a tradition now. So here it goes…
This year my new year's resolution is that I will only have a single cup of coffee per day. Insane, right? Well it wasn't my idea, it was Wood's. Of course he wanted me to quit cold turkey, but we bargained. You see, for the past few years that I've been Oliver's flat mate we've always picked each other's resolutions. Let's just say that what we pick isn't always reasonable, which is exactly why I've never succeeded in achieving my goal.
So while I have to live on a single dose of caffeine daily, Oliver is only allowed to discuss Quidditch tactics during practice, or while I'm drinking my cup of coffee, which might I add I very reluctantly agreed to.
Now what's the big deal about a silly new year's resolution you might ask. Well we always make a bet or deal of some sort on New Year's Eve. So besides having to deal with the bitter taste of defeat and failure, this year whoever succumbs to the other first, must do one thing that the winner demands. And this, my pretties, scares the living daylights out of me. I can just picture it now; waking up at three in the morning and having a twenty-four hour practice, one-on-one with Oliver. I shudder at the very thought of it.
Right, so like I said, it's the official start of our stupid bet, and here I am already finished my one cup when it's only seven in the morning. It's not my fault that I need like one cup to open my eyes, and then a second one right after that to get the gears in my brain to start turning. I guess that just means I'll be brain-dead for a while.
Grumbling, I regretfully lapped up the last remaining drop and set the empty mug down.
"Morning," Oliver said. He patted my mess of hair then rested his chin so easily atop my head.
"Do you mind getting me a cup of that blessed stuff?" he asked with a huge grin plastered on his face.
I glared at him with as much evil and intensity as I could muster at such an ungodly time.
"Yes, I do," I snapped, then stalked off to dress for practice.
"Kates, we have to get going soon!" Oliver called from the other room.
"Yeah yeah, I'm coming!" I hollered back.
"Okay, let's go," I said, twisting around with a loud crack.
"So…are we officially at practice yet…?"Oliver asked hesitantly.
"No," I replied stubbornly.
As usual, practice began with a brief meeting. Nathan, our team manager, as well as coach was letting us in on the details of our next match.
"So as you guys know, we have a game in America next week. The portkey had been scheduled, and I hope you've begun packing because we leave tomorrow at 5:07, so be there by five sharp." At this, Oliver and me both looked at each other like a couple of guilty kids.
"5:07 in the bloody morning?" Maia Scott, my fellow female chaser, swore. She and I are the only females on the team. Might I add that we are in serious need of some estrogen over here?
"Now, this is our last chance to practice in our home stadium. We all know that this is where we make things happen, so I want to see everything you've got here and now! Okay, get going what are you waiting for?" he said clapping his hands to signal the start of practice.
So here's the deal, you have to wonder how come someone as young and motivated as Nathan isn't playing Quidditch themselves. Well he used to, until some idiotic prat sent a stream of curses and spells right at him during a game. Of course the moron received himself a nice life-long ban from Quidditch, but it didn't take back the damage that had already been done.
Nathan's whole entire body, especially the lower half, had been pretty screwed up. Both of his legs had been pretty much demolished which meant that he could never play ever again. Well at least not professionally. On the rare occasion we get him to play a couple of rounds with us on the pitch, but it's hard seeing as he has to fly with two special legs. Yet it's still not enough to keep him down. Nathan's an amazing coach and all and we all love him to death for being so strong.
"Bell! Stop staring at me like I don't have any legs! Hang on, wait…I don't! Ha! Well get a move on it, up in the air, now!" Although sometimes he has a pretty dry sense of humour, and he can be a bit of a hard-ass.
Almost a full eight hours later, Oliver and I were both sprawled on the kitchen floor drenched in rain…and sweat.
"You know, I think I might have broken my butt," I said after a while.
"Join the club, who'd have thought that sitting on a two inch stick for six hours could be uncomfortable," Oliver said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
Apparently we were both extremely exhausted, because the next thing I knew, the house was pitch black and I was seriously sore in every spot imaginable. Groaning I forced myself into an upright position.
"Oliver…?" I whispered hoarsely. An incoherent grunt came from somewhere on my left. I stumbled around blindly before reaching the lights. Flicking them on, I could make out a massive pile of scarlet on the floor.
I walked over and nudged him, gently mind you, with my foot.
"Oliver! Hey, wake up."
"Watzimit?" Translation: what time is it? You know you've known someone way too long when you can decipher that.
"Uhhh…" I let out a gasp as I looked over at the clock. It read 4:48. In other words, we had exactly twelve minutes to get our crap packed and haul our butts over to the airport. I let out a long stream of curses that definitely caught Oliver's attention and had him sitting up in a jiffy.
"Aguamenti!" I cried, pointing my wand directly at Oliver. Sputtering, he wiped his eyes and glared at me. Well hey, there was clearly no time to take a proper shower.
Predictably, he did the same to me. So there we stood like a couple of blubbering idiots. After I'd gotten over being soaked, acting like the immature little girl that I was, I shot another stream at him. Soon we were involved in a full fledged water fight.
"Enough enough!" I wailed. "We're gonna be late…again!" Instantly, we mirrored each others actions by both performing drying spells on each other. And then we ran.
Rushing around like a madwoman, I shoved anything clean that I could get my hands on into my trunk. All the while I was summoning specific cosmetic items and other necessities.
I raced back into the kitchen to find Oliver standing there with his luggage, tapping his foot mockingly.
"Slow-poke."
I huffed in exasperation and disapparated with a twist and a crack.
"5:04. You two are late…again." Maia teased.
"I told you we shouldn't have gone for that last quickie!" I said, prodding Oliver's arm. That had everyone's head snapping up. Aaron Jenkins (chaser) was grinning like a five-year-old kid that had just received a box of Droobles.
"Well that explains the hair, Bell!" Jesse Williams, beater and official team jester said, catching on.
I stole a peek at Oliver and ended up meeting his gaze. Sadly, we both cracked up. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Ian Knight (seeker) swiping his money back from Aaron Jenkins. I wonder what that was about…maybe they bet on what time we'd get there…strange.
"Enough of that ladies, everyone's here and accounted for?" Nathan barked.
"Yes sir!" Maia saluted him.
"Wait Coach! I don't think I'm here…" Jesse said bursting into a fit of laughter.
"Zip it Williams, or I'll leave your behind behind!" That shut him up.
"Everyone gather 'round! Keep your gear nice and close. Come on, tighten up. Okay, now I don't want anyone wandering off yet. We have a meeting with the League Committee first thing. Grab hold of the portkey, we'll be leaving soon. And for Merlin's sake, don't fall on me after you let go!"
We all grabbed hold of the Quaffle (rather suits us, don't ya think?), and prepared for take-off. With a flash of light, I was being jostled around in a whirl of wind. Next thing I knew, I was slammed against something very hard.
"Uh, hey Kates. You wanna get off now?"
"Oh geez! Sorry Oliver!" I rolled off and stood up, wiping dirt off of myself.
"Ew! Wright, get the hell off of me!" Maia spazzed, pushing him to the side. I'd like you to meet the final member of our team: Grant Wright, beater and official team "player". Yes, the quotation marks are necessary. Let's just say Wright likes his daily dose of estrogen.
"Better you than me," I heard Nathan mutter with a chuckle. He led the way into a room decorated very appropriately with Quidditch logos, mascots, and such. In the centre ran a set of tables, one side decked out in blue, the other in ____. We took our seats on the side with Puddlemere's colours just as the American team entered.
Once everyone had settled, the coordinator walked in and gave us a lecture on the whole process. It's not as if we've never done this before…sheesh. On top of the unnecessary excessive speech, some Yankee kept glancing at me, winking and smiling.
To calm my nerves, I decided to have my daily cup of coffee from the refreshments table. I could see Oliver monitoring my every move…just in case. Unfaithful, untrusting git.
After the coordinator had finished his spiel, we don't to introduce ourselves and mingle with the opposing team. Of course Oliver's fists were clenching at this idea. Fraternizing with the enemy, how could we?!
As it turns out, the American team was actually pretty decent. They were nice, had a good sense of humor, and Tristan (a.k.a. Mr. Wink and Smile) was nice and easy on the eyes. Once we were all free to do as we pleased, we all went across the street to a local café.
"Can I take your order please?" the waitress asked.
"I'll take an espresso."
"Café mocha over here!"
"Ummm…I'll take a cof-…I mean uh, tea please." I could feel Oliver eyes boring into me. I knew I shouldn't have had that coffee during the meeting! Drat!
"So what's with the tea?" Maia asked sitting down beside me. I explained my whole unfortunate situation, and I could already see the evil glint in her eyes.
"Hey Wood!" she hollered.
"What?"
"Get over here and explain that new play of yours! You're confusing the hell outta me!" She's genius!
He stood to come over, but once he spotted me beside Maia, his eyes narrowed in on me, glaring.
"Maybe later," he replied.
For the next week or so Oliver and I tried very hard to trick each other into breaking our resolutions. Sadly, we both failed miserably.
The night before the match finally arrived. Needless to say I was as nervous as hell. I couldn't sleep, and dear Jesse snoring in the room next to mine was not helping in the slightest.
I checked the time: 2:00 am. Fantastic! It was technically a new day, so one cup of coffee wouldn't hurt…
I knew that if I were to pour that second cup I'd be a total goner. Unfortunately, when under extreme amounts of pressure and stress, my will-power seems to be completely lacking in a sense.
I could just hear the tiny devil on my shoulder whispering in my ear: "go on Bell, just take it, drink it, relax…" Strange how it seems to be a male voice…with a Scottish accent…? How my mind works amazes even me.
My hand was shaking, if it had a mouth, it would most definitely be screaming at me. Not to mention there was that tiny thought at the back of mind nagging me about the fact that as soon as that second cup touched my lips, I would be forced to do anything that Oliver willed me to…
But I couldn't help myself! It's not like anyone would know. It was the dead of night, morning actually. Besides, I was using the same cup; I could just pretend that it was my first.
"Ah, screw it," I muttered to no one in particular. I grabbed the pot, poured the second cup, and willfully took a giant gulp. Go figure that I would forget that coffee directly from a pot would be ridiculously hot. And as I was nursing my poor numb tongue, Oliver turned the corner almost making me spill the scorching liquid all over myself, almost. Thankfully and sadly, most of it just ended up on the floor.
Oliver's eyes narrowed at me suspiciously. All I could do was put on what I thought was my most innocent face. I found out later that my parents had neglected to tell me that my 'innocent' look was more like a sheepish grin. Thanks a lot Mum and Dad.
Apparently my scheme about reusing the same cup went out the door fairly quickly. I could see Oliver's nose twitching, taking in the scent of a newly freshly brewed pot of coffee. But with one glance at the half-empty pot, there was no way I could continue to feign innocence. So instead of trying to argue my way through Oliver's accusations, I uncharacteristically gave in and admitted defeat. Giving a little humph, I crossed my arms and looked at him expectantly.
"What do you want me to do?" I sighed, raising my eyebrows.
He stood there completely stricken with shock. Regaining control of himself, he remained silent, pondering my question. Finally he lifted his gaze to meet my eyes opened his mouth and said something that sounded oddly like:
"Go out with me."
I blinked repeatedly. Say what now?
My mind suddenly twisted backward as if someone had used a time-turner to recapture the past.
There was Oliver and I when we first met. Oh and that was when he saved me from the garden gnomes. Awww…that's when he gave me my first kiss on my birthday, mind you I was only four so it hardly counts. Ha, I remember that…I'd fallen off my broom and taken a massive dive toward the ground when Oliver caught me. And there's us hugging after winning the Quidditch Cup. Hmmm…don't really remember that one, stupid necklace incident…
I snapped back to reality once the slideshow ended. Talk about a mind blow moment. Ever since I'd met Oliver, he's been the best friend I've ever had. And I admit to having a schoolgirl crush on him when I was younger. And now that I thought about it, what reason did I have not to like Oliver? I mean besides his Quidditch obsessed behavior and unnecessary Scottish pride. Oliver was caring, gentle, sweet, dedicated, and certainly passionate (especially about Quidditch). I could go on and on with this list…in short, he was perfect. At least for me he was.
"Okay," I said with a grin.
"Really?" he said with an air of disbelief. I nodded, unable to make out any words.
"Good, because otherwise this would've been extremely awkward."
Confused, I looked at him with a frown.
Before I could process the movement, Oliver was leaning in and in one swift motion captured my lips with his. I immediately relaxed, practically melting in his arms. I could feel the warmth and familiarity spread through my body, and everything just felt…right. Besides, if anything were to take my mind off of the stress and pressure of the match, this had certainly done the trick.
Easing back just far enough to see each others faces, I saw Oliver's nose wrinkle.
"Yuck!" followed quickly after that.
My eyes widened in surprise as I tried hard to remain composed and not break down in embarrassment and shame.
"What's wrong?" I asked worriedly.
"Coffee breath."
I let out an extremely rare girly giggle. I could get used to New Year's resolutions if they all ended up like this!
Happy New Year Everyone! Hope you enjoyed it and thanks for reading! Review and I'll love you forever! :D
'til next time,
EP
