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Typical.
I nod to the guys huddled in a small circle in the living room as their respective girlfriends talk in the dining room or kitchen. Someone hands me a beer, and I’m accepted into the group of guys in their late twenties that can usually find something to talk about. Sports. Cars. Beer. Any guy can pick up any conversation with another dude and have something to contribute. Once other men find out I’m a mechanic, they usually ask me about funny sounds their cars make or the latest model of whatever car is hot. Women are way more complicated when they meet each other.
We stay separated for most of the night, the men playing pool and air hockey in Melissa’s fiancé’s game room downstairs while the women huddle around the kitchen and the appetizers. It’s only close to midnight when the women come downstairs to see what we’re up to and pair off with their partners.
Savannah walks to me with a smile on her face and holding a plate, and I feel every eye in the room turn to us. Maybe it’s because she normally doesn’t bring a guy around or to parties, or maybe it’s because we’re an attractive couple, but the group mutters and elbows each other when she places a kiss on my cheek. I know that smile, though. It’s the smile of a cuff partner that’s happy someone came to a New Year’s Eve party and will get a kiss at midnight this year instead of watching everyone else in the room.
It makes me sad, and it’s all I can do to smile back at her. I know where I’ll be next year. I’ll be at another house like this one, talking to guys like the ones here, and kissing another cuff partner at midnight.
But where will Savannah be? Home alone with a tub of ice cream? Back here at Melissa’s party and explaining why the guy she brought last year isn’t here?
My stomach roils, but it’s more for me than for her. Why am I worried about it? It’s not my problem.
She hands me the plate. “I got you some appetizers. I’m not sure if you ate.”
Her concern and desire to make sure I’m happy warms my heart. When has one of my cuffs ever worried about my well-being? I mentally backtrack, trying to remember if any of them ever asked me if I ate or slept well. In fact, I can’t remember anyone ever asking me those questions. I sure didn’t get that kind of concern in foster care, and if my mother ever asked me those questions, I don’t remember. Surely, someone made me eat vegetables at some point.
I take the plate from her. “Thanks. Are you having fun?”
“I am. Sorry I left you. I got pulled into the ‘talk about your new relationship and tell us about the hot guy you’re with’ vortex in the kitchen. Every woman here is curious about us,” she whispers.
“I got asked a few questions, but it’s cool.”
“Are you uncomfortable? If you’re awkward, we can dip.”
I shake my head and wipe hair back from her face. Her eyes close for a moment at my touch. “It’s fine, and it’s cool you left me for a bit. The guys are nice, and I can talk to anyone. It’s one of the benefits of bouncing around a lot.”
Savannah and I stare at each other for a few seconds until we’re pulled out of our eye contact by the party counting down until midnight. Savannah looks up at me, the look of excitement for a midnight kiss written all over her face.
I push my forehead to hers. “Do you ever kiss someone at midnight?”
“Never. Does that make me a loser? Is it sad that I’m excited to kiss someone?”
I smile against her lips, ready to kiss them in ten seconds. “I’d never think you’re a loser, and I can’t wait to kiss you. They say how you start a year is how the year will go.”
“Lots of kissing for me this year, huh?”
“At least for the first part,” I say as chants welcoming the new year sound around us. Melissa’s guests throw confetti and blow noisemakers when their lips aren’t busy.
Savannah waits for a simple kiss, but I have other thoughts.
I snake my arms around her and dip her back like we’ve just done a fancy tango. A look of surprise crosses her face, and she wraps her hands around my neck, not entirely sure I won’t drop her.
I’d never drop her.
“Happy new year, Savannah,” I whisper close to her face. Tentatively, I kiss her lips, and she whines a little, the sound moving straight to my cock.
Our kiss moves from soft to hard in the space of a few seconds, and we melt into each other as mutterings of people telling us to get a room go ignored. That’s not a bad idea.
I break the kiss and move my lips to her ear. “Want to go fuck in the coat pile?”
“Oh, my,” Savannah sighs. “That would be something.”
“Why can’t we?”
“What do you mean? What if someone wants to leave and needs their coat while we’re going to town on it?”
“I’ll be quick. Come on. Let’s have a quickie on top of your friends’ coats.”
