Chapter 1 New Years Eve 2025 #2
He bites his plump lower lip, closes his eyes, and lets out a breath, flaring his nostrils.
“I’m not doing this. I’m sorry, it’s the last time I’ll say it.
You’re fine on your own, it seems. I will step away.
Have a good night, and may 2026 bring you so much more happiness than what you have right now. ”
He turns to leave, and I immediately feel that loneliness creeping up again.
“Wait! Your jacket,” I shout, removing it quickly. It’s not until he turns around and opens his mouth to say something, the cool air hitting my nipples, that I’m reminded of my bare breasts. Too late to do anything about it now.
I extend the jacket, keeping the hand holding my dress under the dryer in place. “Here,” I echo his simple offer from earlier, and he averts his gaze, almost as if my words broke his spell like the fire blazing in his broke mine.
He visually swallows hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing and his gaze raking my body.
“It’s bad manners to stare.” My words shake him from his stupor, making him look at his feet. But in no time, he’s holding my gaze without hesitation.
“Really? Because you’ve stared at me, what? Twice now?” His eyebrow lifts at the same time as he smirks, lowering his shoulders and relaxing a bit.
I like it. A lot.
Asher starts walking toward me in long but shaky strides until he’s standing in front of me, tall, broad, and absolutely delicious.
I search his face for a sign he feels this chemistry between us, that he feels maybe an ounce of this electricity, but my efforts are futile, because he gives me nothing. Relaxed? Yes, but that’s it.
The loud whooshing of the dryer and my erratic heartbeat take over my ears, but nothing else. Not a sound, not a word, not even a look from Asher my way. I should probably step back or cover myself, but I’m too shaken to do so. No, not shaken—awestruck by this mysterious man.
Who are you, Asher, and what’s going on inside that head?
It’s like he can hear my thoughts, because his eyes finally snap back to me, and with a tight jaw, he stretches his hand forward, over me, and pulls one, two, three paper towels in rapid succession.
I blink, and he’s wetting them. I have no time to question him, because in one, quick move, he’s standing behind me.
He parts my hair and smooths it over my shoulders. As my breath catches, he whispers, “Wet.”
He clears his throat. “This is wet, sorry.”
It’s not only wet, but it’s cold, and I twitch as he wipes my back tenderly, a complete juxtaposition to his behavior.
He’s fumbling with words, yet his touch is steady.
He won’t look at me when I’m standing practically naked in front of him, but he swallowed so hard, I thought he would break his throat.
Are your puzzle pieces all jumbled up, Asher? Can I play too? Can I put them together?
Loud cheers in the distance startle me, and apparently him too, since the soft and delicate touches on my back disappear. I pat my dress again to find it warm and dry. I check my watch—almost midnight, but not quite yet. Maybe a minute to go.
I slide the red dress over my head, tugging gently down. Something stronger pulls with me, and when I look back, I realize Asher is helping.
“Thanks.” I offer him a smile, one he mirrors.
“Sorry. This is not how I envisioned spending New Year’s Eve, and it threw me off.” He lets out a breath that seems to have come from deep within, like he’d been holding it.
“I don’t think this is how I imagined it either,” I reply, although if I’m honest with myself, being locked away with a handsome man so terrified of doing the wrong thing, he won’t even look at me isn’t so bad. He seems to be a gentleman, and it’s been a while since I’ve been around one of those.
“How exactly did you picture it?” I ask, partly because it’s the polite thing to do but also because I’m intrigued.
“A champagne flute in hand and my lips on a pretty girl’s mouth by the time the clock struck midnight.” The answer surprises us both, and while I chuckle, his eyes grow wider by the second. “Sorry,” he mutters.
“Why? You were honest.” I look down at my watch again. It’s not midnight yet, but the cheers are getting louder outside. We’re close. So close.
I grab his hand and attempt to pull him out, but he won’t budge. “Come on. We still have time to make that happen. If you consider me pretty, that is.” I wink his way, and he lets me pull him out of the bathroom into the main ballroom.
Servers walk around with champagne flutes balanced on trays, and I approach one quickly, Asher’s hand in mine as I take a glass.
“For you.” I hand him the flute before grabbing one of my own and smiling faintly at the server.
“Twenty!” The countdown begins as the crowd shouts in unison, watching the shrimp drop. Such a weird thing to do, but this town is weird like that.
Asher looks spooked, and it just hits me—he might have been here with someone.
Oh, Hailey, you clueless girl. That’s why he’s been so on edge and giving you mixed signals. You made him uncomfortable.
“Fifteen!” The countdown continues. I’m about to put this man out of his misery.
“Why don’t you just go find whoever you came here with? I was wrong to assume you were here alone and needed to find someone to kiss at midnight.” The apology tastes bitter on my lips, naturally—my body isn’t used to them.
“What?” he asks, making me laugh. He loves that word, doesn’t he?
“Ten!” Louder this time.
“Go. You’re going to miss the midnight kiss with whoever you came here with. Go! Go!”
I press my hand behind his back to usher him away, but he’s like solid stone. No, more like an oak tree. Tall, broad, and strong.
“Six!”
“Is that what you think? That I somehow came here with a girl and I, what? Ditched her so I could dry your back?”
Well, that sounds silly now that he says it like that, doesn’t it?
“Five!”
He takes a step forward, in the opposite direction of where I thought he would go. He’s standing so close to me, but I still have to tilt my head back to peer up at him through my eyelashes.
“It’s not,” he whispers, bringing his hand to cup my face.
“Three!”
He searches my eyes. “I didn’t, and if you let me, I would love for you to be my midnight and birthday kiss.”
“Wait, it’s your birthday?”
“Two!”
“Yes or no?” he asks, my heart racing with the imaginary tick of the clock.
“One!”
“Yes,” I whisper in a rush, and with the loud cheers from the shrimp dropping and the clock striking midnight, he crashes his mouth to mine.
His lips are the opposite of him. It seems like he’s just a giant, walking contradiction.
Where his stride and his actions were hesitant and almost unsure, his kiss is anything but.
He kisses me softly yet possessively. His plump lips explore mine as his fingers rake through my hair to the back of my head, leaving goosebumps behind.
Something cold and wet touches my back, and if I’m guessing correctly it’s his champagne flute as he pulls me closer to him.
His tongue strokes my bottom lip gently, asking for permission, and I grant him access.
My hands, limp at my side, are itching to touch, to grab, to feel, so I stop overthinking and just do it.
If his tongue is deep in my mouth, I sure as hell can touch him.
I slide my hand up his back, keeping the one holding the champagne to the side, but he flinches at the touch.
I stop. I stop my hand from moving, my lips from exploring, and break the spell.
The world around us didn’t stop like I thought it did.
The music is playing louder than it was before, and people are dancing, celebrating the new year.
“Sorry,” I whisper against his lips. Another apology. Who am I today?
“I’m not.”
“For touching you, I mean. I didn’t ask permission, and it made you uncomfortable.”
He shakes his head. “It didn’t. I just wasn’t expecting it. I . . . ” He scratches his head. “I got lost for a second.”
His breath tickles my lips, all sweet and smokey, just like him. It’s intoxicating, dizzying, and just . . . wow.
“Did you say it was your birthday?” I change the topic; I can’t keep thinking about how this kiss might have changed my life, because I sound like a naive girl from a classic cliche romance movie. He doesn't answer, though; he just nods.
“Well, happy New Year and happy birthday, Asher. I hope that kiss was exactly what you envisioned for the New Year.” I wink, bringing flirty Hailey back.
“There you are! Happy New Year, babe!” Livie shouts, wrapping her arms around me. I turn to hug my best friend and breathe out for the first time in the past, what? Twenty minutes? It has only been that short amount of time since he spilled that drink on me?
Twenty minutes, and I’m wondering what else I get to do with this man. If that doesn’t say new year, new me, I don’t know what does.
I break the warmest hug and smile at her. “Happy New Year!”
“Where were you? We were looking all over,” Livie adds.
“Happy New Year, Hailey,” her husband, Alex, says.
“Sorry, I got a little distracted.” I smile at my friends shyly, surely blushing.
“Alex, Livie this is—” The words die in my mouth when I don’t see Asher anymore. It’s like he disappeared.
Poof, gone.
I look around, but all I see are streamers, lights, glasses clinking in the air, and the celebration happening everywhere. There’s not one sight of this man.
“What?” Livie asks, clearly confused.
“Did you—”
“Happy New Year, sis!” Nicole interrupts, wrapping me up in a hug too. That opens the door to an abundance of celebratory hugs and cheers—one after the other, siblings, friends, and Nicole’s coworkers.
I’m hugged out by the end, but I don’t stop searching. It’s futile, though, because I don’t see him again. As time passes, I start to wonder if I made it all up.
Am I that lonely that I conjured a person into existence?