(no subject)
Author: Indie
Rating: PG
Challenge: Honeydew #27 (pick up line), Marshmallow #20 (applause)
Extras / Toppings: Malt (11. countdown : Hel - No one knows who you are, just another girl/boy alone at the bar)
Word Count: 183
Story: Fits somewhere in Trees. ( index)
Summary: Welcoming the new year (relatively) alone.
Hel tilted back her head and downed the misleading contents in her shot glass. Somewhere, someone was counting down to midnight, except, strangely, he was skipping the multiples of three (drinking had done something to his brain, or else he was faking, like her) so he was getting ahead of himself.
The overly loud voice from the back of the lounge shouted, “Four! Two! One! Blast off!”
At the same time, man beside her leaned in close, lips brushing against her ear, and started counding down. "Ten, nine, eight," he said, voice slow and sexy in a way that made her simultaneously shiver and wish she was home.
Rory was at a party where he’d promised her there’d be no alcohol, and Parker was probably high.
When everyone broke into applause at midnight she looked at the man beside her, who had been staring at her for almost an hour, and he took it as permission to put his hand at the dip of her waist and kiss her.
“Happy new year,” he told her, and she tried not to think of either of her boys.
“Happy new year,” she said, and turned back and signaled for a refill on her beer, which looked suspiciously like apple juice and carbonated water. It went down smooth and cold and settled in behind her heart, right next to the gnawing loneliness that made strangers think it was okay to kiss her.
Rating: PG
Challenge: Honeydew #27 (pick up line), Marshmallow #20 (applause)
Extras / Toppings: Malt (11. countdown : Hel - No one knows who you are, just another girl/boy alone at the bar)
Word Count: 183
Story: Fits somewhere in Trees. ( index)
Summary: Welcoming the new year (relatively) alone.
Hel tilted back her head and downed the misleading contents in her shot glass. Somewhere, someone was counting down to midnight, except, strangely, he was skipping the multiples of three (drinking had done something to his brain, or else he was faking, like her) so he was getting ahead of himself.
The overly loud voice from the back of the lounge shouted, “Four! Two! One! Blast off!”
At the same time, man beside her leaned in close, lips brushing against her ear, and started counding down. "Ten, nine, eight," he said, voice slow and sexy in a way that made her simultaneously shiver and wish she was home.
Rory was at a party where he’d promised her there’d be no alcohol, and Parker was probably high.
When everyone broke into applause at midnight she looked at the man beside her, who had been staring at her for almost an hour, and he took it as permission to put his hand at the dip of her waist and kiss her.
“Happy new year,” he told her, and she tried not to think of either of her boys.
“Happy new year,” she said, and turned back and signaled for a refill on her beer, which looked suspiciously like apple juice and carbonated water. It went down smooth and cold and settled in behind her heart, right next to the gnawing loneliness that made strangers think it was okay to kiss her.