A/N: So I had said a while ago that I was going to do monthly holiday themed One-Shots and I know I got behind on it. I never intended to and though I don't make New Year's resolutions, I do plan to write more.
New Year's day 2014, I was sitting at home, bored out of my mind and a bit bummed because my guy decided to go on a motorcycle ride with his buddies. I had already spent two days out of the week home alone (though I did enjoy my Twilight marathon while by myself!) so I was kind of upset that he left, but wanted to give him time with his buddies. While he was gone, I sat down and just started writing and the majority of this came out within about two-ish hours.
Like my other O/S, it's NOT beta'd, meaning all mistakes are mine. And honestly, if you don't like it, just don't read it. I won't mind. I wrote this for my enjoyment and to keep myself from being too down. I would appreciate if anyone reading this (as the say goes) if you can't say anything nice, don't say anything at all. This is a work of FICTION, and it's not meant to be completely serious. Please, just... be kind. Thank you.
Midnight Bar and Kisses
No one likes to work on a holiday.
Though most places pay extra when you do, who would want to be away from their family when it's the time to celebrate?
Me, that's who.
It may have something to do with the fact that I don't have any family left to spend it with.
I also happen to love my job.
I've worked at Midnight Bar for the past three years, and at the age of twenty-four, I'm the youngest bartender the place has ever had. I had my interview with Emmett a week after I became legal to drink, and I spent that whole week learning every different alcoholic drink that I could.
Emmett, a big bear of a man who was clearly trying to intimidate me with his bulging biceps and death glare, didn't want to hire me, but his partner, Jasper, complete opposite of Emmett with his lean body and calm demeanor, had insisted on giving me a chance.
Emmett grumbled that they had been burned too many times by cocky party kids that thought they were the shit because they could tell the difference between tequila and vodka.
Without giving him a chance to protest, I threw my long brown hair into a messy ponytail and grabbed a couple glasses and some bottles of liquor and began pouring.
The rest is history.
One of the things that Emmett and Jasper love about me is that I'll work anytime. I graduated school early, went to the community college to get my degree in English and after all that hard work, I really wanted to do something fun with my life for once.
I lost my mom in a car crash when I was three, which didn't matter too much since she left when I was a baby, and my dad died from a heart attack when I was ten. I miss him everyday, and ended up having to grow up with my Gran, but she passed away just after I graduated. She was eighty-two. I saw it coming, but it didn't make it any less sad.
Everything combined made me feel like I had to grow up pretty damn fast.
Now, seven years after becoming essentially an orphan, I've made my peace and I've gotten used to being alone.
Though, with my job, I always have someone to keep me company.
Being a bartender is part work, part patience and part therapist.
Just last night, I had three businessmen trying to seal a deal with a new client, two drunks that hit on my so hard that Emmett had to kick them out, and a middle-aged man trying to deal with his divorce.
And that was all before ten 'o clock.
I know tonight will be worse, though.
New Year's Eve always is.
My alarm shocks me awake at ten A.M. I roll out with a groan, stumbling toward to bathroom and jumping in the shower before I can give myself a chance to try to sleep in.
Last night, I hadn't gotten in until nearly three in the morning, and I couldn't fall asleep for another half an hour. I want to sleep more, but I have to go to the grocery store before work, so I need to get moving.
The shower revives me a bit, and I step out of the shower with my body wrapped in one towel and my hair in another. I paw through the closet, settling on a tight, black button-up shirt and my best pair of dark-washed skinny jeans, figuring I may as well dress up at least a little bit for New Year's.
I throw the clothes on the bed and dig through my underwear drawer, pulling out a plain pair of panties and a white bra. Just before I toss them onto the bed, I hold them up for a moment, rethinking my choice with pursed lips.
Not that I have any plans of getting lucky tonight, there's no reason why I can't be sexy just to make myself feel good.
With a shrug, I put them back in the drawer, and instead pull out a pair of lacy purple boy shorts and the matching push-up bra. I put them on with a smile, tossing my towel into the dirty laundry basket.
Back in the bathroom, I blow dry my hair and then plug in the curling iron. While it warms up, I sweep on some dark mascara and brush dark gray eyeshadow onto my lids. After framing my dark brown eyes with some black liner, I pick up the curler and give my hair some nice bounce and wave.
I look damn sexy, if I do say so myself.
I wiggle into my tight jeans and pull on my top, giggling at how awesome my boobs look, with just enough cleavage peeking out that I just may get a few extra tips tonight.
Combing my fingers through my long waves a few times, I shuffle into the kitchen to grab a granola bar, noticing that it's the last one. I throw it into my purse, shoving my feet into my black boots. Just as I'm about to head out, my phone rings.
"Hey, Jazz, what's up?" I say after checking the caller I.D.
"Bella, I really hate to do this to you, but do you think you can come in an hour early?" Jasper says in a hurried voice.
"Yeah, sure," I tell him, glad that I had forced myself out of bed when I did. "I need to stop by the store first, but I'll be there."
"Thanks, darlin'," he sighs, his southern accent more pronounced as he relaxes. "Jessica quit on me, so I'm one short tonight."
"She quit?" I groan, stepping out of my apartment and locking the door behind me. "Shit, I thought she was just joking when she said she was going to."
"I know, me too," he says, and I can hear glasses clinking in the background. "She was threatening it for weeks, but I couldn't take her seriously."
"I know what you mean," I mumble, with a quiet laugh. Jessica loved the attention she got working at a bar; she claimed her boyfriend, Mike, hated it, though, so every week she said she was going to quit for him.
Then, he would come in with her, asking for free drinks. Finally, Emmett got tired of him mooching off of Jessica's tips and banned him from the bar.
"Anyway, so you might be on your own most of the night," he continues apologetically. "I asked Eric if he'd come in, but he said he had plans."
"That's okay," I tell him honestly, heading in the direction of the grocery store two blocks away. "Oh! Before I forget, could I get a ride home tonight?"
Jasper laughs.
"Truck break down again?" he asks, still chuckling.
"Yes," I mutter, rolling my eyes. The boys were always making fun of my crappy truck. I didn't care; I thought it had character.
"I'm sure one of us can," he says.
We hang up just as I get to the store, and I grab a hand basket as I head to the cereal aisle.
I wander around the store for a few minutes, grabbing the few items I need; before I go to pay, I stand in the middle of the baking section, going over what I have.
"Cereal, tea, razors, yogurt... what else," I mumble, looking in my basket. I tap my foot, thinking, and then it hits me. "Oh! Granola bars!"
I whirl around without looking, and run straight into someone.
"Oof!"
We both grunt as our food goes flying. I hear my yogurt burst open on the tile floor, and from my spot on the floor, I look up to see who I ran into, just as my box of cereal smacks me in the face.
"Geez, ow," I say, rubbing my forehead where the box hit.
"Don't you watch where they hell you're going?" a male voice snaps at me.
I sit up, still massaging my forehead, and gasp.
I ran into a gorgeous man with this amazing color of reddish brown hair; he's tall and slightly muscular, but not in an obvious way. He looks vaguely familiar; at the moment, though, he's covered in something bright orange. I look to the left and see that a carton of orange juice exploded all over his once clean white shirt.
"Oh my God, I am so sorry!" I exclaim, scrambling to my feet and reaching toward the man. "I can take that in to get cleaned for you!"
"Forget it, it doesn't matter," he says angrily, standing up and shaking the juice off his hands. "I have more shirts."
"Are you sure?" I insist, my hands fluttering uselessly as he looks around at the mess. Besides my yogurt, all my other things are intact, but his juice and box of crackers have been destroyed.
Not to mention his shirt.
"It's fine," he sighs, his gaze meeting mine. His intense green eyes soften slightly at my horrified expression. "Really, it's no big deal. I can get it all later."
"Seriously, could I buy it for you?" I ask, gesturing at the ground. "It was my fault."
"I have to go to work," he says, looking down at his shirt, his arms out. "I'm on my lunch break, and clearly I need to run home to change."
I bite my lip, trying to figure out what exactly he had been trying to buy, and what I could do to make things up to him.
"Listen," I say slowly, fidgeting with my fingers. "I'll buy your stuff, and you can come into Midnight Bar tonight, and I'll buy you a drink."
"Are you asking me out?" he asks, raising a thick eyebrow. "Because I think I may be a bit old for you."
"What? No!" I say, blushing furiously. "I just want to make up for ruining your shirt! And, I just thought, you know, a drink could, I mean. Shit."
I bury my face in my hands, mortified, and he gives a low chuckle.
"Alright, I'll come by," he says, and I peek through my fingers to see him still smiling. "I'll see you around seven."
"'Kay," I mumble weakly.
Laughing still and shaking his head, he walks away. An employee walks up, looking disgruntled, and begins cleaning up. I mutter a quick sorry before running down the aisle to gather the things I need to buy.
After dropping my own stuff off at my apartment, I grab my black leather jacket and rush out the door, now running late for work.
I power-walk the six blocks to the bar, bag of orange juice and crackers in hand, arriving at the backdoor slightly breathless. I tug it open, instantly becoming dowsed in semi-darkness, and feel my way toward the office.
The door is open, and I can hear papers being shuffled inside. I lean on the door frame, watching silently as Jasper mumbles and curses to himself. After a few minutes of standing unnoticed, I knock gently on the wall I'm leaning on.
Jasper jumps, his dirty blonde hair flopping into his face, but smiles in relief when he sees that it's me.
"You scared the shit out of me, Bella," he complains, brushing his hair off his face.
"Sorry, boss," I say, not truly sorry at all. He's fun to scare.
"Thanks again, B," he says, turning his chair and resting his elbow on the desk. Jessica really left me in a bind and tonight's going to be a madhouse."
"Oh, it'll be fun," I joke; I giggle when Jasper raises an eyebrow, and it reminds me of my run in today. "Hey, just a heads up, I have someone coming in later for a drink, on me."
"Really?" he asks with a grin. "A date?"
"Not a date," I correct him, rolling my eyes. "I ran into some guy at the store—literally, ran into him— so I offered to buy his things, and a drink."
I hold up the bag as evidence, but Jasper doesn't look convinced, so I sigh and elaborate.
"I spilled orange juice all over his white shirt," I say, my nose wrinkled up at the memory.
"You're good, Bella," Jasper laughs, shaking his head. I scowl.
After putting the orange juice in the mini-fridge behind the bar, with a Post-it note on it with my name so that Emmett doesn't use it, I walk around the bar, flipping on lights and pulling the stools down off the tall tables, arranging then around them. Then, I help Jasper put up a banner that reads Happy New Year! Welcome 2014! and blow up some balloons to decorate the room.
We open up at noon on the dot, and within five minutes, a few people have already wandered in, ready to celebrate.
I take my place behind the bar, and lose myself in the easy chatter. Almost everyone is talking about the new year—what their resolutions are, what they plan to do, places they want to go—and by four-thirty, the place is packed. A lot of people came in for drinks before going out to dinner, a big group of guys around my age are bar-hopping the night away, and a bunch come in to play pool in the back of the bar.
I take a break to eat some dinner around five, enjoying the pizza Emmett brought in with him when he came to hep out, and quickly get back to work after only about twenty minutes.
I've lost count on how many times my ass has been pinched and how many drinks I've poured, and I'm about ready to pour myself a shot of my own to get my energy up, when Jasper nudges my shoulder.
"I think your, uh, friend is here, Bella," he says loudly into my ear, shouting over the music.
My head snaps up and my eyes search the room for the man from earlier. I find him quickly; he's sitting at the bar, now wearing a long-sleeved dark blue shirt, his hands folded on the wooden surface in front of him.
Jasper winks at me before walking away, and I take a moment to fluff up my hair and straighten my shoulders.
"Hey, stranger," I say when I reach him, smiling as naturally as possible. The incident from before is still fresh in my mind. "Nice shirt."
"I figured something dark was safe against any future spills," he says, plucking at the fabric.
I hope the room's dark enough that he doesn't notice my cheeks turning red.
"I don't know, I'm pretty talented," I say, reaching beneath the bar and pulling out two shot glasses. "I've been known to ruin those stain-repellent shirts."
"Why am I not surprised," he says, shaking his head with a grin.
I smile nervously, resisting the urge to chew on my lip, and turn away to pick up a bottle of vodka. I take the opportunity to take a deep breath while he can't see my face.
I pour out two shots, sliding one over to him and picking up the other. He picks his glass up slowly, his eyes darting from my drink and back up to my face a few times. I raise my brows up at him and he smiles sheepishly.
"I have to ask," he says, leaning forward a little. "How old are you?"
I look down and laugh. It isn't the first time I've been asked.
"I'm twenty-four, believe it or not," I say, lifting my drink higher. He kind of tilts his head to the side for a moment, then drinks with me.
Trying not to make a face at the bitter taste, I smile, putting my glass off to the side with the other dirty ones. He smirks at me, but doesn't say anything so I decide to turn things on him.
"What about you?" I ask, taking the glass as he hands it to me.
"I'm clearly over the age of twenty-one," he laughs, folding his hands on top of the bar again.
"Hey, it's only fair," I point out. "You know, tit for tat."
"Tit for tat," he mumbles and then sighs. "Fine, I'm thirty."
"Hmm," I hum, turning to put the vodka away.
"What?" he says from behind me; I shrug without turning. "Seriously, what?"
"Nothing, nothing," I say, enjoying teasing him. I give him a sweet smile.
"Fine," he grumbles, his mouth pulling down into a frown.
I scrunch my forehead in confusion. A moment ago, he was being so playful, and suddenly, he's a grumpy old man.
"What can I get you to drink?" I ask professionally, instead of commenting on his change in mood.
"Forget it, this was stupid," he says, standing up and moving to leave.
"No, wait!" I cry without thinking, and grabbing his arm.
He looks at me in surprise, and I can't help but notice how muscular his arm is. Under the long sleeve of his shirt, it doesn't look like much; I can feel his arm flex as he clenches his fist. I let go quickly, hiding my hands under the bar's counter.
"Sorry, I just mean that I owe you a drink," I say quietly, but loud enough that he can hear me over the music. "Please, have a seat and I'll make you something."
His frown deepens; after a few moments of heavy thinking, he nods once and sits again.
I give a polite smile and start making him the bar's signature drink—Midnight Madness. I'm so used to making it that I don't even remember what goes in it. I grab and pour, mix and swirl, until the drink is a dark mixture of whatever the hell Emmett decided was the recipe. I fix another courteous look on my face and place the drink on a cardboard coaster in front of the grouchy guy.
Before he can take a drink however, I hold out my hand.
"Hello, my name is Isabella, and I'll be your server for this evening," I say in a clear, confident voice. "If you don't mind, I like to know my customer's names so that the evening can be as enjoyable as possible."
His eyes flick from my hand, up to my face, and back down again. He smiles crookedly, like he's trying not to smile, and places his hand in mine.
"Edward," he says, his deep green eyes meeting mine.
His hand is so warm, so electrifying. I wonder if he noticed how I jumped a little when our skin touched. Surely, he could notice this feeling between us as well.
"So, Edward," I say, reluctantly pulling my hand away. "What do you do?"
"I'm a doctor, actually," he says, taking his first drink. He pauses, lowering the glass and looking up at me. "Holy shit, that's good."
"Thanks," I tell him, my cheeks warming again. "It's called Midnight Madness."
"Should I even ask what's in it?" he asks me warily.
"How about this," I tell him, leaning forward slightly and lowering my voice. "Even those that can hold their liquor have been known to get a buzz from it."
"I'll be careful then," he answers, his voice husky.
God, is it hot in here or is it just me?
Thankfully, a new customer sits down just a few seats away from Edward. I give Edward an apologetic look and greet the new man, introducing myself but not shaking his hand. He's not much older than me, blonde haired and blue eyed. He reminds me of Jessica's Mike in a way, only way too confident.
"Hey, sugar," the man says, winking at me. "I'm Peter."
"I hope you're enjoying your New Year's Eve," I tell him, setting a cardboard coaster in front of him. "What could I get you tonight?"
"How about your number?" he suggests, winking again.
"Not on the menu tonight, sorry," I tell him with a tight smile and grabbing a tall, skinny glass. "How about a taste of the new ale we carry? Very light, and crisp. I would compare it to a pear."
I pull the lever on the drink machine, tilting the glass as I fill it. I can almost feel Peter's eyes on me, checking me out, but I focus on the task at hand.
Once the glass is filled, I slide it over to him. Peter reaches out, attempting to place his hand on mine; I pull away swiftly, smiling again and then march away.
"Everything okay, Izz?" Emmett says suddenly from behind me.
"All good, Em," I tell him, wishing I could go take a shower after the way Peter looked at me. "Just another sleaze-ball, but nothing I can't handle."
"Good girl," he says, grinning as he pats my shoulder. "Oh, that customer was asking for you."
I look to where he's pointing and see Edward looking at me expectantly. I nod at Emmett, trying to keep the confusion off my face.
"Can I get something else for you, Edward?" I ask when I reach him. "Would you like something to eat? We have chips and peanuts."
"Actually, though this Midnight Madness is amazing," he says, sliding the drink across the counter, "I was wondering if I could have a Coke. I'm driving tonight."
"Oh, shit, I'm so sorry," I say, and then clap my hand over my mouth.
"What?" he asks, his brow lowering over his eyes.
"Emmett's rule: no cursing," I say in a muffled voice. "And keep the customer in mind when you make them a drink."
"You were very thoughtful," Edward insists, reaching his hand out, but not quite touching me. "For all you knew, I took a cab here."
"Yeah, but-"
"Isabella," he says seriously, now placing his hand on mine where it rests on the bar. "You're an excellent bartender. I loved the drink, I just want something else for now."
His eyes bore into mine, trapping me there. For a moment, I forget to breath. I take in a shaky breath and lower my hand.
"Call me Bella," I tell him softly.
"You don't like Isabella?" he asks, tilting his head to the side.
"Honestly, it's too fancy," I joke, rolling my eyes.
He laughs, nodding and then slowly takes his hand away. I instantly crave his touch again.
"Okay, Bella it is," he says before his expression falls. "Can I be honest with you then?"
I nod; he takes a deep breath and glances down at the bar.
"Honestly, it pissed me the fuck off the way that guy looked at you," he says, a growl in his voice. "I enjoyed your drink, but I want to keep my head clear, in case I need to step in."
"It's no big deal, Edward, seriously," I say, shifting from one foot to the other. On the one hand, I'm flattered, but on the other, I'm a little frustrated. Who does he think he is?
"It's a big deal to me," he says, narrowing his eyes at me. "No man should ever treat a woman that way. He's a pig."
I stare at him with my mouth hanging open.
I don't get this guy. He started off friendly, and then suddenly got all cold, then he started flirting with me... now he's my damn protector?
"Thanks for your concern, Edward," I tell him through my teeth. "I can handle myself, though. And I've got Emmett and Jasper to help me—if I need it."
"Fat load of help they are," he scoffs under his breath.
"I'm fine," I say, attempting to keep my voice calm.
Before Edward can say anything else, I turn and stalk away, sweeping past Peter to help a couple at the far end of the bar.
Peter sits at the bar for the next hour, ordering two more drinks as he does. Edward stays, too, glaring down at Peter the entire time. I try to ignore him; it helps that he doesn't order anything else. He just sits there, slowly sipping the Coke that I had brought earlier, not pausing long enough to speak with him again.
My back is to the bar as I struggle to open a bottle of wine when Jasper comes up next to me.
"Bella, are you okay?" he asks quietly.
"Fine," I spit out, yanking as hard as I can on the corkscrew.
"Bella-"
"I'm fine, Jasper!" I spit, as the cork comes flying out of the bottle, slips from my fingers and smacks me square between the eyes. "Holy fu-u-u-dge!"
"You hit yourself in the face, you can say fuck," Jasper says with a quiet laugh, pouring the two glasses of wine for me.
"But Emmett said-"
"Emmett told Jessica she'd get fired for swearing so much because she was making very inappropriate comments to customers," he says, glancing around quickly before whispering to me, "I'm too much of a gentleman to repeat what she said."
"Ew, I can only imagine," I say, wrinkling my nose.
"Now, please go deliver these drinks, and then go talk to Edward," Jasper says, handing me the glasses of wine. "He's asking for you."
Before I can say anything, he walks away. I sigh, give the couple their drinks and make my way toward Edward.
Just as I'm passing Peter, he leans over and pinches my ass—hard.
"Hey!" I snap, smacking his hand away.
"I can't help it, sweetie," Peter says, grinning lazily. "You have such a pinch-able ass."
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Edward stand up. I don't want him to have to come rescue me, and Emmett's busy, so I decide to take matters into my own hands.
"Is that so?" I say to Peter, picking up a martini glass from the sink. It's filled with dirty dish water and still has the onion on a cocktail sword in it.
It gives me an idea.
"Hell yeah," Peter slurs, leaning over the bar again, his arms folded underneath him.
I lean toward him, clutching the glass with one hand and swirling the onion around with my free hand.
"Well, you have such a dry face," I say; he looks at me in confusion, his mouth hanging open a little.
In two swift moves, I shove the onion in his gaping mouth and then douse his entire head in the dirty martini water. He coughs and sputters, stumbling off his stool.
"You bitch!" he shouts, which catches the attention of both Emmett and Edward, who both come barreling toward Peter.
Edward gets there first; he pins Peter's arms behind his back and shoves him toward the door. Emmett joins Edward, standing beside him with his large arms crossed over his chest. Peter looks from the two men, to me, standing behind the bar and casually drying my hands on a dish towel, smiling. The whole room is quiet as they watch what's happening.
"Out," Emmett says simply, which pretty much everyone here knows means Peter's ass is banned from the bar.
With one final glare, Peter trips his way out the door. It's silent for a few beats and then the room goes back to normal, everyone chatting and drinking like they were before the interruption.
The boys turn to me with completely different looks on their faces. Edward looks amazed, yet confused. Emmett looks... proud.
"Nice one, Izz," Emmett says with a booming laugh; he walks back to his customers across the room.
"I was wrong," I hear Edward say quietly.
"Excuse me?" I say, unsure if I really heard him correctly.
"I was wrong," he says louder, coming to sit in Peter's empty seat. "I shouldn't have said I would step in. Obviously, you can take care of yourself."
"That really wasn't me," I tell him, shrugging. "I was just pissed off."
"At me?" he asks guiltily.
"A little," I say, giggling when he pouts. "Forget it."
He grins, settling into his seat and requesting another Coke. When I raise my eyebrow at him, he rolls his eyes and gives in, asking for a Budweiser.
11:30 P.M.
I stare at the clock behind the bar, thinking about how I spent the last two New Year's Eves here, bringing in the new year with strangers, watching them kiss and cheer when the clock struck twelve. I think the last time I had my own person to kiss on New Year's Eve was when I was sixteen, if you can even count a sloppy, all-tongue kiss from Tyler Crowly as his braces kept bumping painfully against my teeth a kiss.
I grimace at the memory, but I'm pulled away from it when Edward speaks.
"Bella?" he asks. "Are you okay?"
"Just thinking about midnight," I say, handing him another beer.
"Midnight the bar or the time?" he asks, making me smile.
"The time," I say, sighing as I lean my elbows on the bar. "I was thinking about the last time I had a midnight kiss."
"Oh?"
"I was sixteen. He had braces."
"Oh..."
"Yup."
"Well..."
"Well?"
Edward shifts on his stool, his long fingers spinning his bottle of beer. His emerald eyes peer up at me from beneath his lashes, and he looks almost...shy.
"Can I be honest again?" he asks.
"I was honest about my last New Year's kiss," I tell him, which makes him chuckle.
"True," he says, and then sighs before speaking very quickly. "Okay, so the whole reason I came here wasn't just because you wanted to buy me a drink."
"It wasn't?" I ask, biting my lip.
"Not entirely," he says slowly, glancing down again. "See, I've actually seen you before."
"You have?" I ask, standing up straight and taking a step back.
"No, it's not like that!" he says, holding his hands out to stop me. "We live in the same building, and I've seen you at the grocery store a few times, and... when you ran into me, I was actually standing just a few feet behind you... working up the nerve to ask you out."
I look at him suspiciously, opening my mouth to say something, but nothing comes out. I open it again, but close it right away, still unsure of what to say as a million things run through my head. Finally, I say one of the first questions that came to mind.
"Why me?" I ask.
"Well... remember that time that woman dropped her purse on the way into the apartment building?
"Mrs. Cope."
"Right, Mrs. Cope. You helped her, and when she offered you a dollar for your help, you refused. It was just a dollar, but you said no."
"Yeah, but she needs it more than me."
"And then that day that that little kid dropped his money at the store, when he was walking in, and it went into the gutter... you gave him some money to buy his candy bar."
"I know, but-"
"Then there was that time that-"
"What's your point, Edward?"
"You're selfless," he says softly, reaching his hand across the bar, as if hoping to touch mine. "You help others when they need it, no questions asked. You're not afraid of anything. And you're just... so young. Too young to have that kind of mind, that kind of heart. You're beautiful, inside and out."
"Then..." I pause, swallowing nervously. "Then why didn't you want to talk to me sooner?"
"Like I said," he says, giving a nervous laugh. "I was too chicken to do so."
"But why?" I ask, stepping forward involuntarily, wanting to know more. "And why were you so mad at me when I ran into you?"
"Because I wasn't ready yet," he admits with a shrug. "Because I was afraid that you wouldn't like me, because I'm older, because I'm boring... "
He stops talking, and I'm standing right in front of him now. He seems out of things to say, but there's one last thing he needs to explain.
"Why did you say 'well' just a minute ago?" I ask him; he wrinkles his brow in confusion, so I clarify. "I was telling you about my last New Year's Eve kiss, and you said 'well'. Well what?"
He gives a small smile, looking down into his beer again, then looks up, his expression open and vulnerable.
"Well, I could be that kiss tonight," he says, and when I open my mouth to say something, he interrupts again. "But only if you want!"
"I don't know..."
"Hey, everyone, the countdown is coming up!" Emmett suddenly yells over the crowd. "So, if you have that special someone, grab them now, because 2013 is running out of time!"
The bar cheers and whistles, a few of them grabbing their date and pulling them close. A group of guys in the back corner sling their arms over each others shoulders, singing in loud, drunken voices.
"What do you say, Bella?" Edward asks, his eyes wide and beseeching.
I bite my lip, debating, watching without really seeing as Emmett changes the channel on the flat-screen TV mounted on the wall to show the countdown in New York City. The hosts of the show are jabbering on about the end of the year, as the camera pans over the crowd gathered in Times Square.
"Six years isn't that big of a gap," I say to Edward, and his face splits into the biggest grin of the night. "I think you're sweet, and I have seen you around the apartment building."
"You have?" he says incredulously.
"Yeah," I say, looking down at the bar and back up again. "And you know what?"
"What?"
"I actually like older men."
"This is it, people!" Emmett yells, holding his bottle of beer high in the air.
Everyone joins him in counting down.
"10...9...8..."
"Promise to take me out?" I ask Edward suddenly.
"5...4..."
"Yes," he says quickly.
"2...1..."
"Good enough for me," I say, reaching across the bar and tugging him by his shirt toward me.
"Happy new year!"
Our lips meet, and I swear I see fireworks. The room is cheering and blowing noisemakers, but I can't hear them. I'm lost, lost in Edward's lips as they move against mine, gentle yet firmly. His hands lace up into my hair as I twist his shirt tighter in my fist, thinking that this just may be my last New Year's Eve spent with only strangers.
My entire body tingles as Edward's hands pull me as close as they can with the bar still between us; I'm so breathless that my head is spinning, but in a good way. I don't know how long the kiss lasts, or how it feels so right, even though I don't really know this man, but I do know one thing...
...2014 is going to be a damn good year.
A/N: True fact: I tend to date older men. My guy now is nearly 7 years older than me, but we fit together perfectly, if I do so say myself. He's just the right amount of childish while I'm a bit mature for my age. Ha! Oh, and apparently I have a thing for bars. I've written a few things with bars involved (namely my multi-chap fic Between Coffee & Beer) and I think it's because the atmosphere fascinates me. By the time I was old enough to go to a bar, I was already involved with my guy (just passed the 6 year mark!), so I couldn't flirt with other guys or enjoy being flirted with. I always wonder what kind of relationships start in bars-in fact, my brother actually met his wife in a bar and they've been married for 5 years! Anyway, I'm doing what I do best...rambling.
Like I said at the beginning, this was just for fun. It's all fantasy, all best-case-scenario type of stuff, and I hope you enjoyed it. Hope to see you again soon.