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You stumble into the kitchen. You’re not there to make breakfast; your stomach is way too uneasy. Instead, you take your phone from the kitchen counter and sit on the floor – the coolness is a comfort to your burning body. The battery is low, but your phone isn’t dead yet. You don’t let out your sigh of relief, not yet. 

No notifications.

You unlock your phone and make sure you’re definitely connected to Liv’s wifi, and you are. You open every app imaginable and refresh it. He has your number, but maybe he prefers Snapchat. You shiver at the thought. What respectable man still uses Snapchat? Still, you check. You have a few snaps, mostly videos from college friends. You can’t bring yourself to check them just yet. Who knows what you were caught doing last night? Okay, nothing here, maybe Messenger? Maybe Instagram?

Nothing.

Did you imagine last night? No way. You weren’t drunk enough for that. You were drunk, sure. But not drunk enough to hallucinate. You definitely kissed Conrad. 

By now, you’re completely spread out on the floor, remembering every detail of the night before. Your face becomes flushed, and you feel the heat in your abdomen appear again. But then you remember again that he hasn’t contacted you. If he felt the same way as, well, whatever it is you’re feeling, then surely he would’ve messaged. It’s January 1st, and this is not how you wanted to start your year. 

—

Liv arises 4 hours after you do. It’s only noon – a respectable time to wake up, especially after a night like that. You normally sleep in, but you just can’t seem to sleep well after drinking, and once the night before starts running through your mind, it’s useless to even try.

You and Liv sit in silence for a while. She manages some toast and coffee – you still can’t eat. It’s a while before anyone says something. 

“So,” you begin, “Do you wanna tell me about last night?”

And she does. She tells you all about how she caught her boyfriend in the bathroom with someone who she thought was a friend. You don’t know the other girl, and you don’t need to. Liv cries, and you cry with her. Suddenly, all your problems feel small. Who cares if Conrad didn’t text?

—

You don’t see Conrad for a while. Well, you do, but not in person. You see him in posts and on stories. He looks happy – he probably is. 

You try to date a little. It’s no fun being hung up on someone you made out with once and never spoke to again. Dates come and go, but nothing sticks. Some were more promising than others – Ollie was ambitious, Noah was kind – but in the end, it was all the same.

So you throw yourself into your studies. It’s your final semester, you should go out with a bang, right? Your transcript could do with a tidying, and you’ve already done your fair share of partying. The library becomes your new home, and that’s where you meet him. 

Well, meet is a strong word. But you see him, and you can tell he sees you, too. It started with stolen glances across the room, the brush of a hand as you reach for the same book. After a while, your chosen seat moved closer and closer to his, and his to yours. He seems to be there all the time, you think. You wonder why. Does he enjoy studying? Is he struggling, but a hard worker? Or is he here because I am?

One day, he sits beside you, handing you a coffee. It’s not your favourite, but that doesn’t matter. This cute boy in the library, who has been spending weeks eyeing you up, just sat beside you. He gave you a coffee that he chose to buy for you. Maybe this is finally it. That meet-cute you’ve been waiting for. The reason to get over Conrad. Wait – why are you still thinking about Conrad?

—

You and Jake fall into a routine. Nothing about this ever leaves the library. You sit there, study hard, and then you make out in the bathroom for a little. It’s nice, you think. He’s nice. But when he kisses you, it feels mechanical. You think that maybe he’s nervous. He seems shy and reserved. There’s a chance you’re the first person he’s done something like this with. He definitely doesn’t seem like the type to dry hu– No. You’re doing it again! No Conrad thoughts. 

Jake’s kissing you. His lips are soft, but you’re too conscious of his still hands – one sits on your cheek while the other rests on your hips, classic hand spots for a makeout. Your hands travel, but you can’t stop thinking of how rigid he is. With every movement you make, you feel more and more desperate. Not desperate for him to do anything, but just desperate. Like you’re working so hard to make this a positive experience, even though you feel like neither of you wants it.

The bathroom is unisex. It means you can both save face when exiting. 

You leave after Jake, maybe 5 minutes later. When you leave, you keep your head down. Not because you’re afraid that people know what you were doing – you’re ashamed, but not of your actions. It’s different, but you struggle to understand why. 

The trip back to your seat is painful. You move as slowly as physically possible, and if you didn’t have an assignment due tomorrow, you’d definitely be faking some kind of ailment to leave easily. You look up, properly, for the first time since leaving the bathroom, and notice that the library is significantly busier than before. You hurry back to your seat, now worried that if you leave it unattended for too long, someone might steal it.

You rush to open your laptop and look busy. Jake leans over and kisses your cheek. You lean into the kiss and close your eyes. I need to break this off.

When you open your eyes, you realise that all the seats in your desk cluster are taken, and in the seat right next to yours sits Conrad. He noticed you first – he watched whatever that was with Jake. One look from Conrad slaps the smile right off your face. Dread and unease take over your body, and suddenly, you’re feeling nauseous. You quickly pack your things and whisper a hasty goodbye to Jake. You don’t look back at him. 

—

A knock at your apartment is your reason to move from your bed for the first time today. You’ve been moping. Assignments are done, and the study break is in full swing. You should be studying, but you just can’t be productive feeling like this. 

As you roll out of bed, you stumble on a pile of clothes that you haven’t bothered to wash. You look around the room and sigh. Pathetic.

You quickly pull back the curtains and open a window. It doesn’t open far, but you bring yourself closer to it for a second, and take a deep breath. The fresh air feels good. Then you rush to shove everything that’s on the floor into your closet. Whoever’s at the door probably isn’t a visitor, but it’s nice to tidy just in case.

They knock again. Okay, so it probably is a visitor. Or an angry neighbour. Either way, it’s not a delivery – they would’ve left a while ago.

You quickly rush to the door and yank it open. 

Oh. 

It’s Conrad. 

You stand in silence for a moment. His eyes rake your body. You look down and suddenly feel ashamed. It’s 2 pm and you’re still in pyjamas – obvious pyjamas, too. 

“Winnie the Pooh, huh,” Conrad says, breaking the silence. 

You’re glad he did it – that he was the one to say something. But seriously? A comment on the pyjamas you’re extremely embarrassed about? Typical. 

“What are you doing here?” you ask. You’re not avoiding his gaze anymore, but it almost hurts to look at him. You’ve never been able to name the colour of Conrad’s eyes, but today they look more grey than anything. They’re cool, and he looks calm, so why do you feel such strong heat radiating through your body?

“Can I come in?” he asks. His tone is almost pleading. He’s never seemed like the type to beg, but maybe you read him wrong. 

You’re the first to break eye contact. You look everywhere before you cast your gaze down, moving aside to let him in. 

You both sit down on the sofa. Your apartment’s small, so your couch is, too. It’s hard to be this close to him. 

It hurts – he hurt you.

Maybe he didn’t mean to. Actually, you know he didn’t mean to. But that doesn’t change the way you feel. 

Your knees brush, and you’re ready to straddle him again. You look at him, but he doesn’t look at you. He’s staring at his coffee, and you see his Adam’s apple bob as he gulps. It draws your attention to his neck. Your mind is still wandering. You think of kissing him, just behind his ear, then continuing down, trying everywhere until you find that one spot that forces him to make that guttural moan you heard from him last time. You imagine teasing him, traversing his body with just one finger, so light that it almost tickles. You–

“Did I do something?” Conrad asks, pulling you out of your daydream.

You’re flustered now. You’ve got yourself all worked up, but you’re also extremely conscious of how weird things are between the two of you. 

“No,” you say.

His brows furrow slightly – he’s confused. He stays silent, waiting for you to continue. 

You let out a small laugh. “Seriously, Conrad. You didn’t do anything,”. It’s true, you think. He didn’t do anything. You spend weeks waiting for something, and it just never came. 

“Then why did you run away that day?”

“I-” you begin to speak, but you don’t know what you can say without admitting your feelings. “I was embarrassed, okay?”

“Why,” he asks.

“Because New Year’s was intense,” you say. You speak slowly and carefully. Every word needs to be intentional. “It just feels funny to go from something like that to nothing. Like–” you sigh.

“Like?”

“It’s just embarrassing that you saw me like that. Going back to friends is weird. I’ve never hooked up with a friend before. I just don’t know what it’s supposed to be like after,” you say. You feel good. This is exactly how this conversation needed to go. And you’re not lying. It was confusing navigating what a hookup means for a friendship. 

You can tell that your words have satisfied Conrad. He lets out a deep sigh – the type that sounds like it’s been brewing for weeks. He leans over to hug you; you didn’t realise he was the hugging type. 

He smells good – really good. He smells like coffee, he always does. But there’s something else, too. It’s a clean smell, reminiscent of the pile of sheets on your mom’s bed, pulled fresh from the line on a hot summer’s day. 

Your arms wrap around him tightly, and you nestle your nose at the crook of his neck. You inhale again, deeper, this time, really taking him in. You feel him do the same.

When you pull back from the hug, he keeps his hands on your waist. His thumb circles beneath your singlet. His hands are all you can think about.

You look into his eyes. They’re not cold anymore, and there’s something in them that tells you he wants you to kiss him, so you do. 

Your lips touch, and for the first time since New Year’s, you feel okay again.

As your eyes scan the room for the nearest exit, they land on Conrad Fisher. It’s no surprise that he’s here - he’s a friend of a friend, of course he was invited. But you didn’t expect him to look so good. He’s slouched in the corner, staring at the beer in his hands, playing with the half-torn label, and his eyebrows are furrowed like he’s deep in thought. It shocks you that he doesn’t even need to do anything to be so commanding, so magnetising. 

A second wave of heat hits your body, and now you’re more desperate for air than ever. You hurriedly walk out to the porch, take a deep sigh of relief, and finally cool down. You manage to take a few deep breaths and a sip of your drink before your alone time is interrupted.

“Hey. You doing okay?” says Conrad. 

You nod and flash him a small smile. “Just needed some air.”

The two of you stand there for a while, no words, no glances, just a quiet understanding that being alone, but together, is enough for tonight. 

When your friend, Isaac, bursts out onto the porch, running past you two to vomit on the lawn, you two finally look at each other again and laugh. Something about it feels oddly intimate. Isaac doesn’t pick up on the energy, and as soon as he’s done being sick, he runs up and drapes his arms over the two of you. Conrad tells him he stinks, and Isaac blows his breath directly in his face. You laugh, and you leave the party feeling weirdly happy.

—

When you see Conrad next, it’s at another party. This time, the leaves have fallen off the trees, and there’s a chill in the air. It’s November, and everyone is here to celebrate Conrad. You catch little glimpses of him throughout the night. By now, you’re aware of the fact that you’re attracted to him, but everybody is, right? He has a sexy, brooding exterior, covering (but only slightly) his gentle and charming interior. The girls go crazy for it, you know this. And besides, you can admit that he’s attractive without really wanting him. Isaac is hot too, and that’s strictly friends only, so why wouldn’t Conrad be the same? 

You’re not as drunk as you were last time, but you’ve had enough drinks to feel giddy. One more, you think, and I’ll be at a good level—one last drink to make the night. You saunter into the kitchen, hoping to find a bottle of spirits left unattended. Just as you’re about to take a shot of tequila–

“None for the birthday boy?”

You turn and see Conrad, who already has a drink in hand. He’s standing beside you with a smirk on his face. Is this his tequila, you wonder? Did he catch you trying to steal his alcohol? 

You feel your face begin to warm.

“Well?” He asks. 

“Well, what?” you ask in return.

“Aren’t you going to pour me a drink too?”

You look between his face and his hands, still wrapped around his beer. It’s hard to gauge whether he’s joking or not. He speaks with a mischievous lilt, and his eyes are sparkling, but it is his birthday, so maybe he’s trying to get as drunk as possible, as quickly as possible. So you pour him a drink. 

When you pick up your shot glass, he mirrors your actions. You raise your eyebrow at him, and he raises his. Is this a game to him?

He drinks with no reaction. You cough a little. Then he disappears back into the party. 

You walk back out into the living room and find him dancing with a group of friends. You’ve never been close to Conrad – you always knew who he was, of course. All of your friends are his, and he’s a pretty popular guy around campus. But despite barely knowing him, you always had a pretty good understanding of the kind of guy he was (or so you thought). So to see him out there, letting loose, felt like a shock to you. 

The tequila started hitting – a little harder than you thought – and you decided it was time to get out there. Should I dance with Conrad? You wondered. Or would that be too obvious? Wait, would what be obvious? I’m not even interested in him, right? 

You walk over to your friend, Liv, deciding that she would be the safest option for the night. As you danced, you could feel Conrad’s eyes on you. Is he watching because he’s interested? Do I look stupid? Is he laughing at me? You couldn’t stop wondering about him, even when you weren’t with him. As you fall deeper into your head, you think that maybe, just maybe, that last shot was a mistake. When Liv says she’s getting hungry, you jump at the opportunity to leave. Happy Birthday, Con. 

—

It’s New Year’s Eve now, right in the heart of winter. Tonight, your favourite black dress is fitting a little tighter than usual. It’s short and soft, and it clings to all the right places. You look good, and you feel it too. You feel your phone buzz.

What time will you be ready? I’m good to go whenever you are. - Liv.

Just heading out the door now! I’ll see you soon. You text back.

Liv knows about your little crush on Conrad. You never told her, but she knows. She doesn’t try to ask, she doesn’t tease you. She knows you’ll say something when you’re ready.

The plan for tonight was to get ready and meet Liv at her place. Then, after a couple of drinks at hers, you’d head to whatever party she had lined up, but when you step through the door at her place, it’s clear that the plans have already deviated a little. It’s not packed, but there are more people there than you were expecting – maybe 15 or so. You don’t look at any of the partygoers and head straight to the kitchen, where you’re hoping Liv will be.

When you find her there, she hands you a frozen margarita that she’d made for you.

“Sorry, babe. I should’ve given you a heads up, but this all happened so fast,” she says. “I figured that a couple of drinks ready-to-go might help make it up to you”.

“I could never be mad at you,” you say, rolling your eyes. “I’m just gonna have to drink quicker now”.

After sculling a few drinks, you head back into the living room and scan the faces of those who are now joining you for pre’s. There are one or two familiar faces, but most of the people here are new to you. Conrad and Isaac are talking in the corner – they look over and send you a smile and a wave, but you’re not out for them tonight, you’re out for you. So, instead of walking over to the people who would comfort you the most, you walk over to a group of boys that you haven’t met before.

Jason, who appears to be the ring-leader of the group, introduces himself to you promptly. He’s bold and confident, and you can tell that he likes to talk about himself. You quickly learn almost everything there is to know about him – his age, where he’s from, his siblings. He even shares his blood type, B+, he tells you. He claims it reflects his outlook on life. You wonder for a second if Conrad is an A-. 

Another one of Liv’s friends enters the room, and she’s stunning. Her hair is a chestnut brown colour, and beyond being curled at the very ends, it’s dead straight. She’s tall and thin, and she immediately captures the attention of everyone in the room. You feel Jason lose interest. Not that you wanted him, of course, and whatever interest he had was surely platonic, but it still doesn’t feel nice when you suddenly become invisible. 

Your dress, already tighter than usual, begins to feel constricting. You grasp the hem and try to pull it down. Why did I choose this one, you think. You become increasingly aware of how much skin you’re showing. It’s not that you’re wearing any fewer clothes than the new girl, but she just wears them better, you think. 

Eventually, pre’s winds down, and the party is getting ready to move. You’re not really interested in going out anymore, but they say ‘how you enter the year is how you leave it’, and you don’t really feel like sitting on your couch eating ice cream for the next 365 days, so you grit your teeth and bear it. 

The real party is located somewhere on the other side of town, somewhere too far to walk. Everyone starts to pile into their Uber. Liv wants to be in the last group to go, something about making sure her house is locked properly. So you stick with her. Conrad and Isaac decide to wait with you, too. 

“Shotgun!” shouts Isaac, as he races for the passenger seat.

Conrad walks around to the side of the car and gets in, and Liv insists you sit in the middle. You whisper-fight for a minute, about how she’s smaller, so she should definitely take the middle. But eventually she pushes you in, and you lose the fight. 

Your shoulder sits flush against Conrad’s, and you feel your body begin to warm. You look down at your legs, still regretting your outfit choice. The dress has ridden up more since you hopped in the Uber, and now even more of your thighs are showing. Liv, who had her fair share of drinks at pre’s, has decided that now would be a good time for a silent game of corners. In fact, she pushes you Conrad’s way even when there are no turns. 

Liv is pushing against you so hard that by the time the car stops and Conrad gets out, your body collapses onto where he was sitting. You throw your head back and give Liv a friendly, but also slightly threatening, glare. 

Conrad and Isaac are already completely immersed in the party by the time you and Liv trudge in. You walk through the doors and gasp. The house is completely full. Almost to a frightening extent. There are people, back-to-back, shoulder-to-shoulder, throughout the entire house. It’s a house party, but it almost feels like a mosh pit. Liv gives you a kiss on the cheek as she runs off to find her boyfriend, and you’re left alone fighting against the sea of people. 

The kitchen, which has become a safe haven for you at house parties like this, is also extremely full of people. Of course it is, you think. It is New Year’s Eve after all. You have a few quick shots and race upstairs, hoping to find some relief from the mass of people. When you get upstairs, it’s more of the same, only this time Conrad is a part of the group. He spots you and waves you over. 

“It’s crazy in here, right?” he says, whispering in your ear.

The whisper sends a shiver down your spine, and you have to continue convincing yourself you’re not interested in him like that. You’ve heard all about his love life; he’s not exactly available.

“I know,” you shout back, refusing to get too close. “I was freaking out for a minute there.”

“Well then, I bet you’re glad you found me,” he says. This time, he keeps his distance when he speaks. 

You look into his eyes, and he looks into yours. The two of you remain silent for a moment. 

More people walk up the stairs, and the room gets smaller. Somebody pushes against you, and you fall into him. He catches you and wraps an arm around your waist. For a moment, it feels good. His hand is big, and it’s warm. Your bodies are pressed together, and you’re extremely aware of every part of him. But then you realise he’s probably just as aware of you. He wraps around you tighter, but you’re in your head now. His hand squeezes your waist, or does it squeeze your fat? You can’t run away or push him back, the room’s too small for that, but you can’t stand to keep looking in his eyes either. When you look down, Conrad places his hand under your chin and brings your face back up to his and asks if you want to get some air. 

It’s cold outside – it is winter after all. You hadn’t really prepared for it, though, you knew you would be inside most of the night (and had zero plans to walk home), so you figured you’d be okay in just your dress and your boots. When you sit down on the porch, you begin to shiver. Conrad notices and drapes his coat over your shoulders. Your heart begins to race. Maybe he’s interested in me, too, you think. You sit there and chat, for the first time in a while, and this time it actually means something. He tells you about his family and his studies. You can tell he’s leaving out some information, but that’s okay, you think. The conversation is reciprocal. He tells you about his life, but also asks you about yours. He wonders why you’ve never gotten to know each other before, even though you’ve both always been around. 

There’s a lull in the conversation, so you check your phone. 11:58. For a second, you wonder if you should let him go – tell him to head back into the party. Would it be selfish of you to keep him here just to stop anybody from getting a New Year’s kiss from him? You know you’re not getting one, but that doesn’t mean someone else should, right?

“Y/N?” Conrad says, pulling you back into the moment. “You okay?”

“I’m good”, you say, a small, shallow smile on your lips. He can see through this, you know, he can. But he doesn’t want to ruin the mood by pressuring you into telling him what’s wrong.

Suddenly, the music turns off, and you hear the people inside begin the countdown.

You look at Conrad on 10, and then look down at your hands on 9. By the time you look back again, just a couple of seconds later, he’s looking straight at you. And when he asks if he can kiss you, his voice is barely above a whisper.

You hold eye contact with him and you nod your head. You feel shy now – you know the kiss is coming. Wait, when was the last time you were kissed? You freak out for a second, but Conrad places a hand on your cheek, it’s soft and it’s warm. It’s the comfort you need right now. 

The countdown is almost up. You reposition yourself slightly. If you only ever get to kiss Conrad this one time, you want it to be perfect (or at the very least, not awkward). On 1, Conrad leans in and places his lips on yours. His lips are smoother than any other you’ve felt before. His lips remain against yours for a moment, unmoving. It was a tender, gentle kiss. A perfect kiss.

He pulls back and looks you in the eyes. They look different than usual, he could see a sparkle in them. Something telling him you want more. So he leans back in, and you accept.

His mouth met yours, and it was rough and searching, like he was trying to drink in every part of you through the kiss. The kiss was full of need, of want. It was hungry.

Your hands travel up his body, sliding up along his arms and across his shoulder. Your fingers tangle in his hair, which you give a soft tug. His hands are everywhere. One moves across your thigh, while the other travels along the curves of your body, resting on your waist. 

You gripped his shirt, pulling him closer. But close wasn’t close enough. You needed more, and you could tell that he did too. Conrad moved both his hands to your hips and pulled you onto his lap. Now straddling him, you brought your weight down and ground against him.

Conrad moans into the kiss, and you smile. He feels good, you think. He’s enjoying this. 

You sink further into him, rubbing yourself against him. You can feel him through his jeans. As you continue to grind down on him, he moves to kiss down your neck. You move faster – harder. He brings his lips back to yours and slips his tongue into your mouth. The kiss turns sloppy, but you don’t mind. You need him badly. With his hands on your hips, he encourages you to keep going – you can feel his hips bucking up beneath you. You're close now. Embarrassingly close, you think. You’re about to come on this porch at some random party, but you can’t find it in yourself to care. There aren’t many layers between the two of you, especially with your dress being so short. You can feel him through the denim of his jeans, and the faster you grind down on him, the more you feel the tension build in your abdomen. You’re almost there, and you think he is too.

“Y/N, we’re leaving,” shouts Liv, as she bursts through the door. You scramble to get off Conrad and turn to look at your friend. Tears are streaming down her face, and she looks like she’s struggling to breathe. Something happened, and it’s your job to be there for her. You chase after her, leaving Conrad behind.