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The club was loud, the vibrations of the music thrumming through your ears all the way to your bones. The flashing lights added to the hazy, floating feeling as you danced and sipped your drink. Warm bodies, some you knew and some you didn’t, pressed into you from all sides, and you couldn’t care about the feeling of their sweat mixing with yours as you danced.
Lida’s lips found your ear, still needing to shout despite the proximity. Your hand came up to the back of her head, sliding into her soft hair and steadying yourself as she spoke.
“Someone’s watching you!” she said, leaning back and grinning at you. Her eyes flicked up, and you took a sip of your drink as you followed their path.
The second floor of the club had a balcony that overlooked the dance floor, and immediately you found the eyes she had been talking about. They were golden, piercing, and looking right into yours. Corbeau’s jacket was gone, his tie loose, and he leaned on the railing on his elbows. He held a glass in one hand, and fuck, he looked good.
In a moment of drunken courage, you gave him a wink, and then you turned back to Lida. You put your arms up over her shoulders, pressing your forehead to hers as you laughed and moved together.
“What is going on there?” she asked, laughing with you. The warmth of the alcohol encouraged the blood in your cheeks as you blushed.
“I don’t even know!” you told her, shaking your head.
“Well, you better get on that,” she said, glancing down at her phone. “You’ve got like twenty minutes to midnight, go kiss him!”
Your heart raced, remembering your promise after he’d kissed you under his planted mistletoe at Jacinthe’s holiday party. I’ll see you on New Year’s, you’d said. It seemed he intended to make sure you followed through.
You leaned back from Lida, tilting your glass up and finishing the last of your drink. She smiled at you and gave you a pat on the ass before spinning away, probably off to find Griselle. Slowly, you wound your way through the crowd, having to find a new path every few steps, until you made your way to the staircase. When you reached the top you walked right past Corbeau, who hadn’t turned around, and to the bar. You set your empty glass down and waited.
Just as the bartender approached you, you felt a familiar hand touch your waist. Corbeau’s chest pressed against your back as he leaned forward, his other hand coming into view as he set his glass down next to yours.
“Two glasses of champagne, please,” he said, holding up two fingers. The bartender nodded and turned away. Then Corbeau spoke again, this time low and only for you to hear. It was quieter up here, there wasn’t a need to shout to hear each other.
“You and Lida looked awfully cozy,” he said, and you didn’t miss the way his fingers squeezed your waist ever so slightly. You grinned, turning around and leaning back against the bar.
“She’s fun to dance with,” you said. You brought one hand up and started playing with the end of his tie. “I wanted to go see the fireworks, but she begged me to come here instead.”
“Oh, she begged you, did she?” Corbeau asked, and you laughed, shaking your head.
“Are you jealous?” you asked coyly, and Corbeau smirked.
“I–”
“FIFTEEN MINUTES TO MIDNIGHT!”
He was interrupted by the DJ’s announcement, and the crowd’s consequent cheer. Then he was reaching behind you to the bar, picking up a champagne flute and handing it to you. You took a sip as he reached for his own, and your heart picked up as he leaned even closer to you, close enough to smell his cologne and feel the familiar, electric buzz that always seemed to follow you two around.
“Do you still want to see those fireworks?” he asked, bringing his own glass to his lips. You couldn’t help but watch his throat move as he swallowed.
“There isn’t enough time to get to the plaza,” you replied, shaking your head and frowning. Corbeau smiled, and then his free hand took yours as he turned and led you away from the bar. You peered down over the railing to the dancefloor as you passed, and you grinned when you caught a glimpse of Lida’s hands sliding over Griselle’s ass.
Corbeau pulled you through the crowd and to the back of the room, approaching a door with a sign that said EMPLOYEES ONLY. He turned around and his eyes made a quick scan of the room before he backed into it, pushing it open and ushering you through.
The hall on the other side was bland, gray, and fluorescent. The sound from the club was almost completely deafened as the door shut behind you.
“I don’t think we’re supposed to be back here,” you whispered, and Corbeau just took your hand again, flashing you a smile you would follow anywhere.
Your footsteps echoed against the linoleum as he guided you quickly around a corner and up a few stairs, then he was pressing the button of an elevator and looking back and forth down the hall dramatically. His hand was on the small of your back, holding you against him, and you laughed as he stepped forward, pushing you back into the now-open elevator.
He grinned at you as you stumbled over your feet a little, his hand holding you tighter to steady you. Then he let go of you for only a moment, reaching out to hit one of the elevator buttons before his hand settled back on your waist. There was ample space in the elevator, but you couldn’t bring yourself to move away from him. His closeness was just as intoxicating as the alcohol flowing through you. You could smell his cologne and the whiskey and champagne on his breath as he laughed with you.
Before you had the chance to think of something to say, the door was opening again, and Corbeau was putting his hand back in yours, lacing your fingers together this time. You walked more slowly as you exited the elevator, heading down another hall and to another door, this one with an illuminated sign above it that read EXIT.
Corbeau pushed the door open, and you found yourself on a rooftop. The air was brisk, but it was refreshing after the hot, muggy air of the club. The space was empty, save for one potted plant and a small metal table and chair, but the view was incredible. You almost forgot Corbeau completely as you looked out over the city in awe.
It was aglow with thousands of lights, and it felt more alive than it normally would at this hour. Taxis moved swiftly through the streets and you could hear the distant murmur of voices as people made their way in and out of various bars and down sidewalks. Prism Tower was perfectly centered in the distance, and despite its desolated state, it stood proud and majestic in its watch over the city.
You walked to the edge of the roof, leading Corbeau now. There was a short railing that reached just above your hips, and you only stopped when your legs pressed against it. You were quiet for a few minutes as you took in the view, and when you turned back to Corbeau, you found that his eyes were already on your face. You blushed again under his gaze, taking another sip of your champagne.
“How did you know this was up here?” you asked, and Corbeau shrugged, sipping his own drink and turning his gaze to the city now.
“I’ve been up here before,” was all he said. You grinned and stepped closer into his space.
“You bring a lot of girls up here?” you asked, and he didn’t turn his head, but his eyes flashed to you and a small smile tugged at his lips.
“You jealous?” he asked, mimicking your teasing from earlier.
You shook your head, and he let go of your hand so he could bring his arm up around your shoulders, pulling you into him. You let your head rest against his shoulder, his warmth was welcome as the chill of the night started to win out over the heat that lingered on your skin.
“I used to work in the building,” Corbeau explained. A loud honk and a screech of laughter came from the street below. He pointed a little to the east. “There used to be a diner right over there. Open 24 hours.”
“What did you do there?” you asked, taking another drink. You wrapped your arm around his back, resting your hand on his side. Your thumb stroked back and forth absently, your buzz making the fabric feel extra soft.
“Whatever they needed, but I was always on the night shift,” he answered, and you felt him shrug. “Nights like tonight we would have been slammed.”
You hummed, listening to the bustle of the city below. In everyone’s celebration, it was almost as loud as it would have been during the day. As you stood with Corbeau quietly, you couldn’t help but notice how comfortable you were. Maybe it was the alcohol taking away your nerves, but the tension that usually hung heavily between you was gone.
When the chanting started, Corbeau’s hand squeezed your shoulder. He let his arm fall and he turned, stepping out of your hold and taking your champagne flute. He knelt down and set both glasses on the ground and then he stood again. With no hesitation, he took your face in both of his hands, cradling your jaw both firmly and gently.
Just as the count-down ended, he pressed his lips to yours. They were warm, soft, and tasted of champagne. The kiss felt cut short when a loud bang interrupted you and startled you apart, and you turned your face to the sky as the first of the fireworks exploded over Prism Tower.
Corbeau’s arms went back around your shoulders, pulling you close again, and you wrapped yours around his waist. You leaned into him, smiling as you watched the show. While it was short, it was spectacular, bright colors illuminating the sky as dozens of fireworks went off at once.
“Happy new year, angel,” he whispered in your ear as the finale drew to a close. You turned your face back to his and you kissed him again.
It was soft, at first, gentle and easy. And then something shifted, and you felt a twinge of excitement in your belly as you heard him take a sharp breath. He deepened the kiss, his hands dropping to your waist and pulling your body flush against his. His tongue grazed along yours and you let out a soft moan involuntarily, feeling dizzy.
Corbeau’s hands dropped even further down, and you gasped, your heart jumping in surprise as he lifted you up and set you on the railing. Your arms flew around his neck, holding him tightly. You didn’t feel unsafe on the edge of the building. Corbeau’s hands were wide, warm, and secure against your back, and as he stepped between your open knees you felt more stable than you had on your feet.
He kissed you passionately, though it wasn’t rough, like a man starved. Your fingers gripped his hair as his lips left yours, trailing down your jaw and neck. Anticipation pooled between your legs, and you were surprised at how quickly you felt every nerve in your body begin to drip with want.
“Corbeau,” you said, your voice breathy. His hands were on your upper thighs now, squeezing as he hummed against your neck in response. “Not here.”
It went against your every instinct to ask him to stop, but you felt too exposed out in the open where you were, with so many people on the street and so many apartment lights still on. Corbeau sighed against your skin, his breath warm, and his kisses became gentler as he trailed them back up to your lips.
He kissed you one more time, softly again, and leaned his forehead against yours. You stroked his hair and waited for your heart rate to slow.
“Are you hungry?” he asked, eyes still closed. You hadn’t thought about it until he asked, but you were. You nodded.
He leaned back, helping you down off the railing, then he picked up the champagne again and handed your glass back to you. He took your hand once more, lifting it to his lips and placing a kiss to the back of it, and then he started to lead you back to the door.
“C’mon,” he said. “I know a place.”