December 31
8:30 PM
Teresa is curled up in the plush armchair at the very far end of the hotel lounge, when she gets to the last chapter of the book she’s reading. She’d much rather just read in the room she and her mom are staying in, but she kicked Teresa out hours ago. She tried to protest, but seeing as she refused to take part in any skiing or snowboarding or physical activity that required her to be seen by people, she didn’t have much of any argument. If her mother thought that reading in the lounge rather than in her warm hotel room bed was some sort of progress, then she’ll take it.
She should have known that wasn’t the end of it. Since when was her mother contented with letting her daughter spend New Year’s Eve reading?
“Mom,” she whines, as her mom appears out of nowhere and grabs the book from her unsuspecting hands. “Really?”
“Am I really not allowing you to spend New Year’s Eve alone in a hotel lounge?” she asks. “Yes, really.”
Teresa sits up slowly, like her torso is being chained to the back of the squishy armchair. “Why can’t you just bring me to your friend’s party? She invited me too.”
“You’re only saying that because everyone there is going to be at least 20 years older than you and you won’t be forced to socialize.”
Teresa makes a face at her, and stands up. “Fine. I’ll go to the party upstairs, but I’m not staying until midnight.”
Her mom smiles at her gratefully as she tucks a strand of Teresa’s hair behind her ear. “Fair enough. Now, go change.”
+
Brenda has been at the hotel’s gym since the early afternoon, much to the dismay of her parents, who thought that she was overworking herself. The gym didn’t really have a court; it was more of studio extension with a basketball hoop. However, that hardly mattered right now because she was trying to catch up on all the training she missed during the holidays. Her parents tried to reason with her and tell her she wouldn’t even be able to get much work done since she was alone. So she got her best friend – Minho – who was spending his vacation in a different resort just ten minutes away, to practice plays with her.
However, just as she fakes right, shaking Minho off, she catches a glimpse of the doorway. She ignores the person standing there as she finishes the game off with a final layup.
She lets the ball bounce along the floor as she turns to Minho, arms spread. “What was that?! Don’t go easy on me!”
Minho plants his hands hips, breathing heavily and rolling his eyes. “Trust me, Despain. I wish I was just going easy on you.”
Brenda starts laughing, but she quickly gets cut off by someone clearing their throat.
Brenda and Minho turn to the doorway to find Brenda’s mom – dressed in a stunning, red evening gown – crossing her arms with an annoyed look.
“Brenda, didn’t I tell you to get dressed an hour ago?”
Minho raises his hand apologetically. “It’s my fault, she was going to get ready, but I asked her-“
“Minho, sweetheart, don’t even try,” she says, although she looks amused at his attempt. “Brenda, come on, the party must be starting by now. Some kids of your dad’s coworkers are throwing it, so you might make new friends. Minho is welcomed to come along if he likes. Just hurry, okay?” her mom says, before exiting the gym, the click clack of her stilettos filling in the empty room.
Brenda faces Minho, raising her eyebrows expectantly.
“You know I can’t, Brenda. My parents are waiting for me,” Minho says regretfully as he bends down to pick the ball and hands it to Brenda.
Brenda just frowns. “Can’t believe you’re ditching me.”
Minho punches her in the arm. “Hey, don’t play victim. I have to go to some black tie dinner with my parents. Meanwhile, your mom practically just gave you permission to get drunk with a bunch of strangers.”
Brenda nods thoughtfully, as she passes the ball to him. “That’s true.”
“Hey,” Minho says as he shifts the ball from one hand to the other. “There might even be hot people there.”
Brenda sighs dramatically. “It’s cute that you think the world is nice to me.”
+
9:30 PM
Anyone who laid eyes on Teresa would immediately know how uncomfortable she is. She’s not one for short skirts, but her mom bought it for her and she didn’t pack anything else she could wear but old jeans and big sweaters. The tiny shoulder bag didn’t help either – it kept slipping off and made her more aware of how she’s standing. She couldn’t even fit a book in there.
The party’s being held in one of the bars of the hotel. It’s bigger than their other rooms and the lights were dimmed into a soft blue glow. Many tables scatter around the room, with a long bar on one side and a line of booths on the other.
Some of the kids are on the stools, getting their drinks. Others are huddled in groups, laughing and talking with their friends. Most of the people, though, enough to make a crowd, are gathered, dancing and cheering on, near the small platform where a couple was singing some indie song Teresa doesn’t recognize. But then again, with how they’re singing, Teresa doesn’t exactly believe they know the song either.
Looking around, and already feeling underwhelmed, she sits on a stool at the bar. It’s a bit too close to the stage and the crowd than she’d like, but all the other stools are taken, and she’d rather not look even more pathetic sitting alone in a table or booth.
She looks at her phone and sees it’s only 9:32 in the evening. Although she knows that she doesn’t have to be out until midnight to satisfy her mom, she also knows that being out of the hotel room for only 10 minutes is stretching it.
“Can I get you anything?” the bartender asks her.
Just when she’s about to say that, no, she isn’t of age like most of these other kids are, she realizes that she’s stuck here for at least another hour. Besides, her mom sent her to a party with older kids and an open bar; she doubts she would mind Teresa having one drink. So she just nods, and smiles as innocently as she can. “Just a beer.”
The bartender nods. “Coming right up.”
Soon enough, he comes back with bottle of beer and opens it in front of her. She smiles at him gratefully and grabs her drink. However, before she could even take a sip, she feels the glaring spotlight on her face.
+
Brenda walks in, feeling lost as ever.
She has always had lots of friends, and was rather well-known in school, but that didn’t make her good at socializing. Sure, she wasn’t completely hopeless in meeting new people but most of the time, her social calendar was full of parties being thrown by a classmate she’s known since preschool and team barbecues.
Looking around, she feels even more intimidated. It wasn’t exactly a full-blown college party – it was hardly a party yet, really; it was just something to do for these kids to get out of having to go to the dinner party upstairs with their parents – but she still feels out of place.
Brenda combs back her hair and stands up a little straighter, trying to look confident as she struts into the room, as if her legs weren’t cramping like all hell’s out to get her. She sits in one of the tables near the stage, not caring that she had no one to sit with, and craned her neck, looking for the waiter.
Once she catches his attention, she gestures him to bring her a beer. He nods and holds up a thumb to signal that he got it, and Brenda mouths thank you. Her eyes follow him to the bar, making sure he gets her order right.
However, someone else catches Brenda’s attention.
It’s a girl, probably a little younger than Brenda, who just walked into the room and to the bar. She has a bored, critical look on her that makes her look more mature than her probable age.
She’s tapping fingers impatiently as she looks at her phone. Brenda can see the girl roll her eyes, and dropping the phone back into her bag, frustrated. Her first thought was ‘I hope that girl’s okay’, but it disappeared quickly as the girl smiled at the bartender as she orders, because her smile is captivating and Brenda suddenly feels sick to her stomach.
When the girl gets her drink, she smiles again, and this time Brenda swears her eyes lit up. The girl looks almost angelic in her beauty, as if she was glowing against the dimness of the room.
Then, she realizes that isn’t her imagination illuminating the stranger, but a spotlight. Just like the one that was pointing to her as well.
She looks around frantically. “Whats going on?”
The guy on the makeshift stage chuckles and says into the mic, “We’re looking for fresh talent, sweetheart.”
Brenda groans. “Fresh talent? I don’t think you need to be that picky for something as prestigious as karaoke night.”
“Wow, the snarky girl in the leather jacket it is, then. This should be interesting,” he replies, holding out the microphone to her. “Come on, someday, you’re gonna thank me for this.”
She’s about to retort again, but she notices that she’s drawing a lot of attention not only to herself, but to the other girl they’re ambushing too. The girl looks more annoyed than mortified, but she definitely looks like she’s on the verge of running away. So, instead of making a scene, Brenda just stands up, shrugs her coat off, and struts to the front, taking the microphone. Cheers and low whistles follow her, as she turns to where the girl is sitting, nods her head towards the stage, and mouths “Come on.”
The girl is hesitant at first. Not in a shy, embarrassed way. More like in “If you make me get up there I will kill you” way. However, a few more people nudge her off her seat, and most of the crowd wouldn’t stop chanting for her to perform, so she stands up, and steps up onto the platform with Brenda.
+
9:40 PM
Teresa feels like dying, to be honest.
She planned on staying in the side line, reading books on her phone, until it was an acceptable time for her to go back to their room and celebrate the New Year in comfort. But somehow, here she finds herself gripping a microphone in front of a hundred people cheering for her to sing, thanks to Leather Jacket Girl. And she’s actually going to do it.
Singing isn’t the problem. She knows she can sing. Her mom had forced her to join the church choir in addition to her already filled up schedule. The problem is all these people staring at her expectantly. They’re not even drunk enough to be easily entertained, so she becomes even more worried.
“Hey,” Leather Jacket whispers to her, as the host of the whole thing prepares our song. “Chill, you’ll do fine. Just don’t choke or anything.”
Teresa glares at her.
The music starts to play, and Teresa’s nerves get even tenser. She breathes in and out slowly, eyeing the screen with the lyrics worriedly.
“I know you want to kill me, but not until we’re done with our grand performance, sweetheart,” Leather Jacket whispers, right before going into that first verse flawlessly.
Leather Jacket sings her part perfectly, brushing her hair back and out of her face, and swaying her hips, as if she’s getting lost in the sound of her own voice. She hits all the notes without much effort, and when she’s not focusing on the audience, she’s shooting careful, encouraging looks at Teresa. Her brown eyes are almost golden underneath these lights and her hair somehow looks great even though it’s such a mess. When she smiles, Teresa almost loses it.
But she doesn’t, because when her turn comes, she forces herself to open her mouth and sing, making sure she’s doing so in tune and getting all the lyrics right. She doesn’t have to move around in Leather Jacket’s charisma, but she captivates everyone anyway. Teresa just smiles and sings, but her well-practiced voice gets more than enough attention from the crowd, who was dancing and cheering Teresa on. Just when she taught she couldn’t feel any smugger, she can see Leather Jacket, at the corner of her eye, stop dancing to the music. Instead, she’s kind of just standing there, staring at Teresa with an impressed look on her face.
As she sings, Teresa raises her eyebrows at Leather Jacket, challenging her. It works, as the girl laughs, inches closer to Teresa, and starts joining her, harmonizing perfectly as she looks into Teresa’s eyes.
Teresa still feels like dying, but for a whole different reason now.
+
9:44 PM
When they finally get off stage, ignoring the crowd’s loud requests for an encore, Brenda puts out her hand. “I’m Brenda. “
“Don’t tell me your name. I don’t like getting attached to people I want to kill,” she retorts, but there’s a good natured smile coupled with it.
Brenda laughs. “Funny.”
The girl smiles, and shakes Brenda’s hand. “My name’s Teresa.”
“Nice to meet you, Teresa.”
“Can’t say the sentiment’s mutual, Brenda,” Teresa remarks.
“Well then,” Brenda starts, “how about I change that?”
Teresa raises an eyebrow at Brenda. “How exactly?”
Brenda shrugs. “Can I buy you drink?”
Feeling a blush coming on, Teresa smiles, shyly turning away. “I was already having a drink when you interrupted me.”
“Hey,” Brenda protests, “I wasn’t the one pointing that spotlight on you. Besides, why don’t you just finish that one, and I’ll buy you another? There are no limits when it comes to New Year’s Eve, yeah?”
“Getting drunk on New Year’s,” Teresa says, in mock contemplation. “Fan of clichés, are we?”
“Trust me, that’s not the only tradition I’m sticking to tonight.”
Frowning, Teresa crosses her arms. “I have no idea what you mean, but frankly, I’m scared.”
Brenda just smiles and takes her hand, leading her to Brenda’s table.
+
11:55 PM
By the time it’s only a few minutes to 12, they had talked and laughed and drank the night away. Their table is full empty of bottles, little plates of half-finished peanuts and pretzels, and paper napkins they played hangman on.
They talked about school and which colleges they’re considering. They talked about singing – how Teresa’s in a church choir and how Brenda was part of a band that only lasted for two band practices. They talked about boyfriends and girlfriends; they talked about how they both can’t count the times they had sworn off relationships. They talked about TV shows, and books, and movies. They argued over superheroes and which cookie recipe would go better with vanilla ice cream. They went through each other’s phones and laughed at old pictures. They tried shooting peanuts at each other’s mouths. They got lost in each other.
While the party grew wilder and louder around them, they were in their own little bubble – tipsy and happy and with butterflies fluttering dangerously in their stomachs.
The booth is big but they’re practically shoulder to shoulder, their head bowed together in whispers and intoxicated giggles. Teresa sways in her seat, staring forward.
Brenda laughs. “What?”
“Does that clock say it’s midnight already?”
Following her gaze, Brenda shakes her head. “No, it says it’s almost midnight. Come on, Church Choir, let’s get going. Everyone’s going outside.”
Teresa crinkles her nose. “I’m too drunk to deal with fireworks. Besides, it’s freezing outside.”
Rolling her eyes, Brenda just puts her coat over Teresa’s shoulders and pulls her up. “Let’s go.”
Sighing, as if she really thought that being with a beautiful girl under gentle, falling snowflakes and fireworks illuminating the sky, would be the worst way to start the year, Teresa nods and lets Brenda take her hand again, guiding her to the crowded deck.
Everyone’s restless and making noise, jumping around in excitement. Brenda takes Teresa by the shoulders, leading her through the crowd and to the railings, where the picturesque view of the mountains and the stars can be seen.Teresa keeps stumbling around, even as she leans on the railings. Brenda chuckles, looking at her fondly.
“What is it?”
Brenda shrugs. “Nothing. I just didn’t expect to have fun tonight.”
“Me neither,” Teresa whispers, leaning closer. “Who knew that embarrassing myself in front of a couple hundred strangers would be a good decision?”
“I did,” Brenda quips.
“TEN! NINE!…” The crowd starts counting down, the buzz in the air getting more infectious.
Teresa smirks at Brenda. “What did you say about sticking to traditions?”
“SIX!.. FIVE!”
Laughing, Brenda cups Teresa’s face, easing her head closer to hers. “I knew you got what I meant.”
“THREE! TWO!”
January 1
12:00:01 AM
“One,” Teresa murmurs, closing in the space between them, their soft lips touching. Teresa smiles against Brenda’s mouth, her trembling fingers clutching the front of the leather jacket that fits Brenda so well.
Brenda breathes heavily between kisses, melting into it, feeling every part of her grow warm despite the biting cold. Teresa’s lips tastes like beer and new lip gloss and everything Brenda knows will remind her of Teresa from this day on. She plants her other hand on Teresa’s hip, pulling her closer, and holding her so tightly like she’s scared she’d lose her if she let go.
But Brenda eventually has to, and when they pull away from each other, it isn’t even by much. They’re barely an inch away from each other, so their faces come off as unfocused, but they don’t care. They just stay wrapped up in each other, foreheads touching.
“Happy New Year,” Brenda mutters, grinning like mad.
“Happy New Year, Leather Jacket.”
Brenda pulls back a little to stare at her, although still her hands on Teresa. “What did you just call me?” she laughs.
Teresa smiles dreamily – obviously crossing the boundary between tipsy and wasted. “Walk me to my room before my mom kills me?” she asks, ignoring Brenda’s question. “Key’s in my bag.”
Brushing stray locks of hair off Teresa’s flushed face, Brenda kisses her forehead. “Sure, nerd. Just remember me in the morning, okay?”
Swaying again, Teresa grabs Brenda for support, letting Brenda put an arm around her waist. Brenda shakes her head, amused. “Or I can just call you and remind you; since I’m pretty sure you put your number in my phone.”
“Yeah, I did,” Teresa mumbles, kissing her on the cheek. “Don’t worry; I can’t imagine a universe where I wouldn’t be able to remember a girl like you.”