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Michelle Jones isn’t much into college parties. They are usually too crowded, too hot, and don’t have any good alcohol left. All that said, Michelle absolutely adores the parties thrown by the ultimate Frisbee team. For whatever reason, the dingy basement they’re held in has a magical property. The alcohol consumed in ski shots tastes good. The music is quality. There is fun dancing and no creepy people bother her. She knows more people at the party. There are quiet areas to chat. All around, great parties. And Michelle loves them.
So, when she finds out about their New Year’s Eve party, of course she RSVPs that she will be going. She even manages to convince three of her friends to make the trek in the New England cold all the way to that apartment building. It’s ten at night, she’s wearing a new dress her mother bought her for Christmas that’s skin tight, she’s got a little buzz from the glass of wine and two shots she had at the pregame with her friends. She’s doing pretty alright.
The party is alive and well when they arrive, people jumping up and down to the beat of a Drake song, the line for a drink isn’t too long, she sees that cute guy from her philosophy class who discusses readings with her. She decides pretty quickly that she’s going to try to find him around midnight and kiss him. It’s a tradition, he’s attractive, and she’s spent far too much time in love with her best friend for her own good. So, this should help!
She ends up talking to him for most of the night. Oliver. He’s actually incredibly sweet. Awkward a bit, but in a way that endears him to her. He’s a philosophy minor. Math major. He’s from Philadelphia, and he’s in his fourth year. He’s on the club soccer team, and he’s played since he was five. He thinks that both philosophy and math are very logical and one thing progresses from the other very clearly. He likes that they built. Math deals in absolutes, which he claimed is the only thing in life that truly does. He leaned against the wall and laughed at all her jokes and got her a can of beer (handed it to her unopened) when she complained about the line.
Then it’s 11:50 and he says he’s going to the bathroom and will be back so soon. With a wink, he walks off. Michelle chuckles to herself. She bobs her head to the SZA song playing, and walks over to the girl from her intro chemistry class to chat. When it’s 11:58, they cut the music and start cheering. Michelle scans the crowd, searching for Oliver. She gets anxious, but when they announce the thirty second mark, she spots him. He’s turned away from her, but he’s searching and he’s wearing that dark green jacket. So, she walks over a bit quickly as they start counting down. (She’s nothing if not one for flare.) Then, at the count of three, she grabs his shoulders and spins him around, planting a kiss right on his lips.
It’s passionate, which surprises her. Her arms wrap tightly around his shoulders, and his hands grab her waist tightly, pulling her against him. He feels very solid, and she arches herself into him, pulling him over her body slightly as he adjusts to follow her lips. He uses a tasteful amount of tongue, which she appreciates because she’s not interested in drowning. He’s an amazing kisser, especially for midnight of New Year’s Eve. He pulls away after several additional long moments, and she chases his lips. He chuckles, pecking her lips quickly several times. She smiles wide and her eyes finally flutter open.
“Peter!” She nearly screeches, thankful that everyone is cheering and yelling loudly enough that her scream is only one sound in a thousand. She quiets, composes herself. “Peter.”
“What?” He seems so genuinely confused. She doesn’t blame him. “What did I do? You kissed me! Did you not want me to kiss you back?” He’s still got his hands on her waist, and hers are still on his shoulders.
She blinks. She’s the one who messed up. He only kissed her because it was New Year’s Eve, and she kissed him first. He doesn’t know she’s been in love with him since sophomore year of high school. Damage control time. “I’m sorry. You just, you have the same jacket as a guy I’d been talking to all night.”
That should be sufficient? Explains her actions and doesn’t reveal her feelings. It’s the truth, anyway, so it should work. But then his face falls, and his hands drop from her waist to his side. His shoulders sag as he lets out a brief, “oh.”
She’s absolutely mortified. Did he want her to kiss him? Was he happy she had? She won’t lie to herself and say she didn’t enjoy the kiss immensely. Nor was she disappointed that it turned out to be Peter instead of Oliver. Fuck. He makes to turn away, and that’s the last thing she wants. So she quickly lets out, “I’m glad it was you!”
His eyebrows shoot up on his forehead as he turns back to her swiftly. She senses the question in his eyes, so she continues on, using the remaining buzz of schnapps to power her through. “I didn’t think it was you, but I’m glad it was you.”
His lips start to pull into a smile. “I’m glad, too.” She takes a deep breath, rocking back on her feet and chuckling because she doesn’t know what else to do in this moment. She wasn’t prepared for this.
“Who knew you were such a great kisser?” She laughs and wants to punch herself in the face because what the hell was that?
But Peter smirks and raises an eyebrow. It almost hides the pink blush that overtakes his cheeks. “I’m great at a lot of other things, too.” She gasps, and he chuckles. This feels weird. It’s new. But it’s not bad. Michelle doesn’t want to overthink things. Or rush things. So, she boops his nose and kisses him one last time before she preps herself to walk away.
“You’re dangerous.” He smirks, leaning to kiss her again, but she sidesteps him. “I’ll text you!” She calls over his shoulder, waving to him. He shakes his head, but she smiles and watches her leave through his eyelashes. She tries to keep her heart from spilling out of her throat, but she feels very overwhelmed. She supposes she’ll just have to text him a see what happens.
Not the worst way to start off the New Year.