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The Laforteza New Year’s Eve party doubles as Sophia’s birthday celebration, and their house is overflowing with people. Massive bouquets, ones made of flowers and cupcakes, have arrived throughout the day, and each one is met with the same enthusiasm by Sophia, who makes sure to always read the card first, and then hug whoever gave it.
Sophia looks radiant in the Philippines. There’s something about it, maybe it’s the unburdened nature of it — the freedom from the scrutiny of thousands of cameras and by extension millions of onlookers.
There’s part of Megan that feels happy to at least be able to behold it. To watch her shine and flourish underneath the stars she grew up underneath. But there’s another part, a smaller, more selfish part, that feels an ache every time Sophia slides up and presses together with another family friend.
She watches, chest aching as Sophia’s childhood friend is handing over a bouquet of roses the size of Megan’s torso to Sophia.
“Oh my god, this is too much! You shouldn’t have,” Sophia says, bringing it to her chest and it almost eclipses her frame.
Megan nods in agreement, because yeah, the bouquet is too much and they shouldn’t have. It looks like at least twenty rose bushes were destroyed in the making of the bouquet. She takes a sip from Sophia’s champagne glass, swallowing down the bitterness. At this point, she wouldn’t be shocked if the fireworks that go off at midnight spell out Sophia’s name.
Sophia catches her eye over the shoulder of her friend as they hug.
Megan’s not ungrateful per se. Sophia took a big risk in taking her home with her for the holidays. She gets to sleep in the guest room closest to Sophia’s room (which every time she walks into it still catches her off guard — how it’s frozen in time to a high school Sophia who dreamed of fame). She slips into Sophia’s room when everyone else goes to bed, and Megan cherishes those moments under the princess-canopy bed, tangled in Sophia’s arms. Even though Sophia will eventually gently nudge her awake and tell her to go back to her room before everyone else gets up; however, Sophia always gets up to walk Megan back to her designated room.
She really should learn more Tagalog, beyond the whispers that Sophia tells her at night.
Megan wanders back over to the curated catering table, and makes small talk with the chef working. It feels easier than talking to another one of Sophia’s family members who ask her for her name or why she is not in Los Angeles for New Year’s.
She pops a grape in her mouth when she feels an arm loop through hers, and she startles.
“Relax, it’s only me,” Sophia says, smiling. To say that Sophia doesn’t take Megan’s breath away every time she sees her. Her lips shine with newly applied gloss. “You doing okay?”
“The grapes are good,” Megan says, between chews. “Have you had any?”
“Megan.”
“I’m okay, really,” Megan says. “It’s your birthday, you should spend time with your family. I made friends with him,” she looks over her shoulder at the worker (who she forgot to get the name of) thankfully, he waves.
“It’s almost midnight,” Sophia says, glancing at her phone. She turns it toward Megan: 23:53.
“Last few minutes of your birthday, how are you going to celebrate?” Megan quips.
“With you?”
“Huh?”
“Come on.” Megan has forgotten Sophia had looped her arm with hers until she’s being dragged back through the party. Megan lets Sophia tug her behind the cover of narra trees, and it feels like they’re teenagers sneaking out to steal kisses underneath gym bleachers, like a youth she never had.
“Is something over here?”
Sophia looks nervous. For once. Which is weird, because Megan is used to being the nervous one between the two of them. She looks around, but there’s no one shoved into the corner behind the trees the way they are.
“I want to kiss you at midnight,” Sophia says. “…Can I kiss you at midnight?” She corrects.
Megan’s throat feels like it’s closing, but there surely wasn’t cinnamon in those grapes. She’s pretty sure Sophia put a cinnamon ban over their entire property.
“Are you sure?”
Sophia takes Megan’s hands, and her eye contact is so steady and sure that Megan wants to shrink under it. “We can do it here, where no one’s looking… It’s not that I want to hide you, I just, I don’t want a stray camera to catch us.”
“Are you sure?” Megan parrots. Sophia has always been bad at turning off her role as leader, and she thinks any rustle of tree branches will send her girlfriend running back into the center of attention.
“I’m positive.” Sophia squeezes Megan’s hands.
Someone yells out that there’s one minute left of 2025. Someone else asks where Sophia is. But Sophia stays right in front of her.
“Shouldn’t you spend it with your friends?” Megan asks.
Sophia shakes her head, “I want to spend it with my girlfriend.”
Twenty seconds.
“After all, there’s this tradition of kissing the person you love at midnight that I’d really like to do,” Sophia continues, and she smiles. “It’s still my birthday, so you have to listen to me.”
Ten seconds.
Sophia glances around the corner one more time, and exhales in relief. This far into the countdown, people are more focused on the numbers declining than looking for those who have drifted away from the party.
Nine.
Eight.
“You okay?” Megan asks.
Seven.
“Yeah,” Sophia smiles.
Six.
“It kind of sucks everyone is celebrating your birthday ending,” Megan quips.
Five.
“You’re so…” Sophia trails off, but she’s grinning.
Four.
“Happy birthday, Sophia,” Megan says, and she hopes that Sophia knows that even though she’s never been the best with words, that Megan would follow her to the ends of the earth. That she’s so glad she has Sophia to run to at the end of the day. That across every room, she hopes to meet Sophia’s gaze.
Three.
Two.
“I love you,” Sophia says.
One.
“Happy New Year,” and then Sophia pulls her in.
Her lips taste like expensive champagne and lip gloss, and Sophia holds Megan’s face with the kind of reverence Megan used to think only existed in ’90s romantic comedies. Fireworks are shooting off now, splattering the sky in red, gold, and green. Megan jumps every time they go off, just a little, and it makes Sophia smile into her lips when Megan bumps her teeth against hers. At some point, they’re laughing and grinning too much to keep kissing.
“Happy birthday,” Megan says, one last time, just because she can
“It’s not my birthday anymore,” Sophia says, and lets a hand fall to Megan’s side.
“It still is in LA,” Megan protests.
“Fair point,” Sophia says, stealing another kiss from Megan. “Happy New Year, baby.”
“Happy New Year,” Megan echoes, and she looks up at the fireworks shimmering down in ribbons of bright light. And she looks sideways to see Sophia watching too, and she slides an arm around her waist. The fireworks reflect in Sophia’s eyes.
Megan thinks, maybe foolishly, that next year will be great. Because she got to be the one who kissed the birthday girl at midnight.