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The bass thumped through the apartment, making the cheap plastic cups on the coffee table vibrate in rhythm. Emi nursed her third mojito of the night and tried not to stare at Bonnie across the crowded living room. She failed. Again.
Bonnie was laughing at something someone said, her head thrown back, fairy lights catching in her hair like stars. She wore this burgundy dress that made Emi's brain short-circuit every time she looked at it. Which was often. Too often. Pathetically often.
"You're doing the thing again," her friend whispered, appearing at her elbow.
"What thing?" Emi took a long sip of her drink.
"The puppy dog eyes thing. The 'I'm so in love it hurts' thing."
"I don't," Emi started, but her friend was already walking away, laughing.
In her late twenties and she had the emotional subtlety of a teenager. Great.
The party was in full swing now, that perfect state of chaos where someone had already spilled wine on the carpet, someone else was crying-laughing in the bathroom and the music was just loud enough that you had to lean close to hear anyone speak. New Year's Eve parties were always like this too loud, too crowded, too full of expectations.
Emi had one expectation. One single, terrifying, probably-doomed expectation.
She wanted to kiss Bonnie at midnight.
That was it. That was the whole plan. Simple, right?
Except nothing was simple when it came to Bonnie.
They'd met six months ago through mutual friends and Emi had been a goner from day one. Bonnie was sweet and funny and had this way of scrunching her nose when she concentrated that made Emi want to write poetry, which was concerning because Emi had never written a poem in her life.
But Bonnie was also twenty-one. Six years younger. Probably saw Emi as some boring older friend. Probably had her eye on someone cooler, someone who didn't spend their weekends reorganizing their bookshelf by color.
"P'Em!"
Emi's heart did that annoying flip thing it always did when Bonnie called her name. She turned to find Bonnie weaving through the crowd toward her, eyes bright with excitement.
"Hi," Emi said, trying to sound normal and definitely not like someone who'd been staring at her for the past fifteen minutes.
"We're playing a game!" Bonnie grabbed her hand just casually grabbed it like it was nothing, like Emi's entire nervous system wasn't lighting up like a Christmas tree and tugged her toward the center of the living room where people were gathering in a circle.
Oh no.
Emi knew that circle. That was a party game circle. Nothing good ever happened in party game circles.
"What game?" she asked, already knowing she wasn't going to like the answer.
"Spin the bottle!" someone announced, producing an empty beer bottle with a flourish.
Emi's stomach dropped. Of course. Of course it was spin the bottle. The universe had a terrible sense of humor.
She should leave. She should definitely leave. Watching Bonnie kiss someone else sounded like actual torture.
But Bonnie was still holding her hand, pulling her down to sit in the circle and Emi was apparently incapable of saying no to her.
"Rules are simple!" their host announced, clearly already tipsy. "Bottle points at you, you kiss the person to your right. If you chicken out, you take a shot. Everyone good?"
There was a chorus of agreement. Emi nodded along, doing mental calculations. She was sitting to Bonnie's left, which meant if the bottle pointed at Bonnie...
Her mouth went dry.
The game started. The first spin landed on someone who gamely kissed their neighbor amid cheers and laughter. The second spin ended in a shot being taken. The third spin resulted in a kiss that lasted long enough to get wolf whistles from the group.
Emi wasn't paying attention to any of it. She was hyperaware of Bonnie beside her, of the bare inch of space between their knees, of the way Bonnie's fingers twisted together in her lap.
The bottle spun again. And again. Each time, Emi's heart rate kicked up a notch.
And then,
The bottle slowed, wobbled and stopped pointing directly at Bonnie.
Time did something weird. Slowed down or sped up or maybe stopped entirely. Emi couldn't tell. All she knew was that everyone was looking at Bonnie and Bonnie was looking at her and Emi's heart was hammering so hard she was pretty sure everyone could hear it over the music.
The person to Bonnie's right to Emi's left was her. Emi.
Someone whistled. Someone else laughed. The room felt too hot, too small, too full of people witnessing this moment.
Bonnie's eyes went wide. Her cheeks flushed pink, visible even in the dim lighting.
This was it. This was the moment. Bonnie was going to lean in and....
Bonnie grabbed the shot glass from the center of the circle.
Emi watched actually felt her heart crack a little as Bonnie downed the shot in one go, grimacing at the burn.
The group erupted in teasing jeers and laughter. Someone else reached for the bottle to spin again. The moment passed.
And Emi sat there, trying to keep her face neutral, trying not to show that something inside her chest had just crumbled to dust.
Of course. Of course Bonnie would rather take a shot than kiss her. The message was clear. Bonnie was disgusted by the idea. Probably panicking about how to let Emi down easy, how to maintain their friendship after this awkward moment.
Emi needed air. Or another drink. Or to maybe walk into the ocean.
She stood up, mumbling something about needing the bathroom and escaped before anyone could stop her.
The bathroom was blessedly empty. Emi locked the door and pressed her forehead against the cool mirror.
"Get it together," she muttered to her reflection. "You're twenty-seven. Act like it."
Her reflection looked unconvinced.
Someone knocked on the door. "Occupied!" Emi called.
"P'Em?"
Bonnie's voice.
Emi's eyes closed. "Just a minute."
"Can we... can we talk?"
No. No they could not talk. Talking was the last thing Emi wanted to do. Talking meant having the conversation where Bonnie very sweetly explained that she valued their friendship but didn't see Emi that way and Emi would have to smile and nod and pretend her heart wasn't breaking.
But she couldn't hide in the bathroom forever.
She opened the door.
Bonnie stood there, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth, hands clasped in front of her. She looked nervous. Which made sense. Letting someone down was never fun.
"Hey," Emi said, aiming for casual. "Sorry, you can use the bathroom."
"I don't need the bathroom." Bonnie shifted from foot to foot. "I just... about the game..."
"It's fine," Emi said quickly. "Totally fine. Those games are stupid anyway, right? No big deal."
"It's not that I..." Bonnie started, then stopped. Took a breath. "I didn't take the shot because I didn't want to kiss you."
Emi blinked. "You... what?"
"I took the shot because I did want to kiss you. Too much. And I got scared that if I did, you'd think it was disgusting and then you wouldn't want to be my friend anymore and I," Bonnie's words tumbled out in a rush. "I really like being your friend, P'Em. I didn't want to ruin it."
Emi stared at her. Processed the words. Tried to make them make sense.
"Wait," she said slowly. "You... you wanted to kiss me?"
Bonnie's blush deepened. She nodded, not meeting Emi's eyes.
"I thought.." Emi let out a shocked laugh. "I thought you took the shot because you were disgusted! Because you didn't want to kiss me!"
Now Bonnie's head snapped up. "What? No! Why would I be disgusted?"
"Because," Emi gestured helplessly. "Because I'm older and boring and you're you and I figured you probably had a thing for someone cooler, someone.."
"P'Em." Bonnie stepped closer. "You think I want someone cooler than you?"
"I mean... yeah?"
Bonnie laughed and it sounded slightly hysterical. "You're joking. You have to be joking. P'Em, you're the coolest person I know. You're smart and funny and kind and you do this thing where you push your hair behind your ear when you're concentrating and it makes me forget how to speak. I've been half in love with you since we met."
The world tilted. Emi reached out to steady herself against the doorframe.
"Half in love?" she repeated faintly.
"Maybe more than half," Bonnie admitted, voice small. "Maybe fully. Maybe completely and totally and embarrassingly fully."
From the living room, someone started counting down. Fifty seconds to midnight.
Emi's brain raced to catch up. Bonnie liked her. Bonnie wanted to kiss her. Bonnie was in love with her.
"Forty seconds!"
"I wanted to kiss you at midnight," Emi blurted out.
Bonnie's eyes widened. "You did?"
"That's been my whole plan all night. My only plan. Kiss Bonnie at midnight. Except I thought you'd never want that, so I was just going to pine pathetically from across the room like I have been for the past six months."
"Thirty seconds!"
"Six months?" Bonnie breathed.
"Six months," Emi confirmed. "Since the day we met. Since you laughed at that terrible joke I made about papaya salad and I realized I wanted to hear you laugh every day for the rest of my life."
"Twenty seconds!"
They stared at each other. The apartment was getting louder, people gathering, champagne being poured.
"So," Bonnie said softly, stepping even closer. "Do you still want to?"
"Want to what?"
"Kiss me at midnight."
"Ten seconds!"
Emi's heart was going to explode. Actually explode. They'd find her tomorrow, victim of acute feelings.
"Yes," she managed. "Really, really yes."
Bonnie smiled, bright and beautiful and so close. "Then maybe we should get back to the living room?"
"Five! Four! Three!"
They didn't move.
"Or," Bonnie whispered, "maybe here is good too?"
"Two! One!"
The apartment erupted in cheers. "Happy New Year!"
And Emi kissed her.
Kissed Bonnie in the hallway outside the bathroom while everyone else celebrated in the living room, while fireworks started going off outside, while the music swelled and people hugged and popped champagne.
Emi cupped Bonnie's face in her hands, gentle, reverent, trying to pour six months of longing into this moment. Bonnie's hands found Emi's waist, fingers curling into the fabric of her shirt, pulling her closer.
The kiss was soft at first. Sweet. Tentative. A question being asked and answered.
Then Bonnie made this small sound in the back of her throat and Emi forgot how to think entirely.
She pressed closer, tilted her head to deepen the kiss. Bonnie's lips were soft and tasted like the fruit punch she'd been drinking and something else, something perfectly Bonnie. Emi's hands slid into Bonnie's hair and Bonnie's fingers tightened on her waist and the world narrowed to just this just them, just this perfect moment.
When they finally broke apart, both breathing hard, Emi rested her forehead against Bonnie's.
"Happy New Year," she whispered.
Bonnie laughed, breathless and joyful. "Best New Year ever."
"Even though we missed the countdown?"
"Uh huh... Not that I care." Bonnie's arms wound around Emi's neck. "Though I feel like we should probably do that again. For research purposes."
"Research purposes?" Emi smiled against her lips.
"Mm-hmm. Very important research. About whether kissing you is always going to make me feel like I'm floating."
"And?" Emi asked, even though she was already leaning in again.
"Inconclusive," Bonnie murmured. "Definitely need more data."
This kiss was different. Less tentative, more sure. Bonnie's confidence growing as Emi sighed into her mouth, as their bodies pressed together, as six months of tension finally, finally released.
Emi kissed the corner of Bonnie's mouth, her jaw, the spot just below her ear that made Bonnie's breath hitch. Bonnie's fingers tangled in Emi's hair, tugging just slightly and Emi thought she might actually die. Right here in this hallway. Death by kissing the girl she'd been in love with for six months.
"P'Em," Bonnie breathed and Emi loved the way she said it, loved the way her name sounded in Bonnie's voice.
"Yeah?" She pressed another kiss to Bonnie's temple, her cheek, the corner of her smile.
"If you keep doing that, I'm never going to be able to go back to the party."
"Is that a complaint?"
"Definitely not a complaint."
Someone stumbled down the hallway, laughing. "Oh! Sorry! Carry on!"
They broke apart, both flushed and breathless and smiling so hard it hurt.
"We should probably..." Emi started.
"Yeah," Bonnie agreed, but neither of them moved.
They just stood there, grinning at each other like idiots, hands still intertwined.
"So," Emi said eventually. "I guess this means you'll go out with me? On a date? A real date?"
"P'Em, I just kissed you until we both forgot how to breathe. Yes, I'll go out with you."
"Tomorrow?"
"Tomorrow," Bonnie confirmed. "And the day after. And the day after that."
"That's a lot of dates."
"I have six months of crushing on you to make up for. I'm thinking we need at least a hundred dates to even start to cover it."
Emi laughed, pulled Bonnie in for another quick kiss. "A hundred dates. I can work with that."
From the living room, someone called their names. The party was still going, would probably go until dawn. There was dancing and drinking and celebrating to be done.
But Emi was perfectly happy right here. In this hallway. With Bonnie's hand in hers and Bonnie's smile bright enough to rival the fireworks still going off outside.
"Come on," Bonnie said, tugging her toward the living room. "Let's go ring in the new year properly."
"I thought we just did?"
"That was just the preview." Bonnie's eyes sparkled. "The real celebration requires champagne. And probably more kissing. Definitely more kissing."
They walked back into the party hand in hand. A few people noticed, did double takes, nudged their friends. By the time they grabbed glasses of champagne, half the room was watching them with knowing smiles.
Their host raised his glass. "To new beginnings!"
"To new beginnings!" the room echoed.
Emi clinked her glass against Bonnie's, held her gaze.
"To finally getting the midnight kiss I wanted," Emi said softly, just for them.
Bonnie's smile was radiant. "To many, many more."
They drank and someone turned the music up louder and people started dancing. Bonnie set down her glass and pulled Emi onto the makeshift dance floor and they swayed together, completely off-beat, not caring even a little bit.
"Can I tell you a secret?" Bonnie said, lips close to Emi's ear.
"Absolutely."
"I practiced. If we'd play bottle spin and if the rules are to kiss someone. What I'd do if the bottle landed on you. I spent twenty minutes in my bathroom yesterday practicing how I'd lean in, what angle to tilt my head, everything."
Emi pulled back to look at her. "You did not."
"I absolutely did. And then I chickened out anyway and took the shot like a coward."
"For the record," Emi said, spinning Bonnie in a clumsy circle that made them both laugh, "your actual kiss was way better than any practiced version could have been."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah." Emi pulled her close again. "Though maybe we should practice more. Just to be sure."
"P'Em, are you using research as an excuse to kiss me?"
"Is it working?"
Bonnie answered by kissing her right there on the dance floor, in front of everyone, while their friends cheered and the music played and the first hours of the new year stretched out before them, full of possibility.
When they finally came up for air, both grinning like fools, Emi realized something.
All she'd wanted was to kiss Bonnie at midnight.
She got so much more.
She got Bonnie's hand in hers. Bonnie's smile directed at her. Bonnie's whispered confession of six months of mutual pining. The promise of a hundred dates, a thousand kisses, a whole new year of possibilities.
Not a bad way to start the year at all.
"Hey, P'Em?" Bonnie said, tucking herself against Emi's side as they swayed.
"Mm?"
"Next New Year's Eve, we're definitely kissing at midnight. Like, right at midnight. No bathroom discussions, no missed countdowns."
Emi pressed a kiss to the top of her head. "Deal. Though for the record, I kind of love how we did it this year."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah. Very us. Completely oblivious, totally chaotic, perfect anyway."
Bonnie laughed and Emi felt it vibrate through both their bodies, warm and right and exactly where she was supposed to be.
The party continued around them. The music played on. Fireworks lit up the sky outside.
And Emi held Bonnie close and thought about midnight kisses and new beginnings and how sometimes the best moments were the ones you almost missed.
Almost.
But not quite.
Never quite, when it came to Bonnie.