New Year's Kiss Read online

  New Year’s Kiss

  A Short Story

  by

  Brian Rowe

  Copyright © 2018 by Brian Rowe

  http://brianrowebooks.com

  License Notes

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this story with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person. If you’re reading this story and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return it and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  This story is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is entirely coincidental. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  New Year’s Kiss

  For Logan Merriwether

  On a night that promised to be as unassuming as any other, I found myself trudging through eight inches of snow, my brother on my left side, his girlfriend on my right. With each shivery step we grew closer to the inevitability of over-crowded bars packed with inebriated tourists. My brother guaranteed me that one of the stops would be a gay bar—in Reno, my hometown, this meant rubbing shoulders with leather daddies and drag queens shipped north from Las Vegas—and that we would be throwing down twenties at the blackjack tables after we’d consumed half a dozen tequila shots. Since I only had five dollars and two nickels in my wallet, I figured I’d let my brother do the buying.

  I rested my cold, chapped hands inside my jacket pocket as we sauntered down an empty side street toward the first bar of the evening. I wasn’t in the best of spirits. This would mark my third year in a row without a New Year’s kiss, my third year without a boyfriend. And this year I had zero chance of finding a guy, because unlike Los Angeles—where I’d lived for the past eight years, and where a thousand young twinks swarmed the city like man-hungry zombies—the only cute gays in Reno were either still in the closet or physically hiding in their closets. I nursed my mediocre beer, way too tart for my taste, and spilled most of it in a trashcan before I headed back out into the piercing cold.

  Five Star Saloon, Reno’s only decent gay bar, was the fourth stop on our invisible checklist. My brother Dustin appeared more interested to step inside than I did, as if he assumed the place would answer all the questions he had about my sexual preference. His tiny girlfriend Kami held my hand for a moment before she walked inside, clearly terrified that she would be swallowed whole by overweight lesbians.

  The dimly lit bar had a crowd of at least a hundred people, with too loud an oldies soundtrack to make manageable conversation, and barely any room to maneuver. While Dustin ordered me a gin and tonic, I headed toward the bathroom and scoped out the best talent Reno had to offer. A lot of the players were older bears, all on the lookout for their virginal cubs. Some appeared too old to be out past eight on a Friday night, and others, the more promising younger ones who looked cute enough to share a casual smooch with, were already taken. I wasn’t looking for a date. I just wanted someone to hold hands with in those precious seconds before midnight.

  After thirty minutes of non-talking and non-dancing, we departed Five Star, Dustin and Kami holding hands, my hands becoming intimate only with the glass of gin and tonic tucked inside my warm leather jacket.

  “What time is it, Kami?” I asked.

  She didn’t answer me; she was too busy texting one of her friends. With all the commotion on the sidewalk I could’ve shouted that there was bird shit running down her dress and she still only would’ve replied with an apathetic yawn. I managed with one quick step and a bend of my torso to see on her phone that it was 11:05. I had never gambled with my brother before, and spending Dustin’s cash on the blackjack tables sounded like the perfect way to escape the frigid temperature.

  But Kami forced us to make one final bar stop on our little adventure, at The Waterfall, a place so crowded with patrons that to walk from one end to the other was a feat akin to tiptoeing across a mile-long tightrope. As soon as I passed the portly bouncer, as well as a large sign that forbade outside alcohol from entering the premises, I pulled the tall glass out of my jacket and downed almost half my drink.

  Dustin and Kami ordered more alcohol—I told them I was good not just for tonight but for the next century, with my extra-large hangover in a cup—and we continued to push through the massive crowd.

  After much patience and determination, the three of us arrived at the back of the bar.

  “I’m gonna use the bathroom,” Kami said. “Can you hold my drink?”

  Instead of handing her Peachtree Martini to her lover boy, she gave the drink to me. While she strutted into the ladies’ room, I enjoyed a taste of her sweet concoction, a strong mix of vodka, peaches, and orange juice.

  But then I almost choked, when I turned to my left—and saw him.

  The cute boy I had been chatting with online for the past six months appeared before me, unexpectedly, the first time I’d seen him in the flesh. His name was Landon, and he stood in the middle of a group of attractive twenty-somethings, a Corona in his right hand and a cigarette in his left. While his friends laughed and talked over each other, he seemed lost in his own world, tapping his feet against the sticky hardwood floor, and watching the local New Year’s coverage on the overhead television with cool disinterest. Six-foot-two, twenty-three years old, with short brown hair and lime green eyes, he was dressed like a hot nerd, doofy yet still somehow unattainable, with a brown-and-purple sweater, a black jacket, and a large pair of dark-framed glasses resting atop his pointy nose.

  I stared at him, my mouth agape, shocked and elated at the coincidence of seeing him tonight. We had just tried to meet up for coffee over the Thanksgiving break but to no avail—with two jobs, Landon was a busy boy.

  “You okay?” my brother asked.

  Kami returned from the bathroom and pulled her drink out of my hands. She tousled her hair before taking a sip. “What’s up? What’s going on?”

  I had focused my attention to the loving couple in front of me only for a second, when I felt a shoulder rub against mine. I turned to my left to see Landon walk past me, to the men’s room, oblivious to my presence.

  “It’s nothing,” I said. “I recognize someone.”

  “Oh really?” asked Kami. “Friend of yours?”

  “Actually, I’ve never met him.”

  Dustin crossed his arms and pondered this conundrum, but Kami understood.

  “Him? Is this a guy we’re talking about, Ryan?”

  “Yes.”

  “A cute guy?”

  I tried not to blush. “Very.”

  “How do you know him?” she asked, her smile exaggerated. “Have you guys chatted online?”

  I nodded but didn’t answer with words because Landon exited the bathroom and started to walk back toward his friends, which, lucky for me, meant he had to brush by my shoulder a second time. I didn’t think I would say anything; it wasn’t like me to make the first move. But in his short march from the hallway to his buddies, I decided to go for it.

  “Landon?”

  He turned to me right away, and before I had the chance to follow my first word with a second, he smiled at me with that infectious grin and unexpectedly wrapped his arms around me.

  “Hi, Happy New Year’s,” he said. I couldn’t tell if he recognized me.

  “Hey,” I said. “Do you remember me? We’ve chatted—”

  “Oh my God, Ryan. Hey! I had no idea you were coming to Reno for New Year’s. How are you?”

  “I’m great,” I said, overjoyed that he remembered me, and that he seemed excited to s
ee me. “How are you?”

  “Jesus,” he said, staring into my eyes, not bothering to answer my question. “You’re even cuter in person.”

  He hugged me again, allowing me enough time to fully inhale his spicy cinnamon cologne.

  “Landon,” I said, excitedly, pointing to my right, “this is my brother, Dustin, and his girlfriend, Kami.”

  As we all exchanged pleasantries, I waited for Landon to ditch me and go back to his friends, who were still being rowdy and loud at the back of the bar. But he stayed close to me, and he asked questions about me, and he never stopped smiling, as if running into me had been his best surprise of the night.

  At the point when I searched my brain for something else to talk about, a friend of Landon’s grabbed him by his shoulders and pushed him forward, alerting him that the group was moving on to a casino downtown. Without a proper warning, Landon started migrating away from me.

  “Well, it was nice to finally meet you—” he started.

  “Yeah, for sure,” I butted in. “Can I get your number?”

  I wanted to pat myself on the back; I hadn’t found the courage to ask a guy for his number in more than two years. Although my dating life had thrived in college, I lately spent most of my time hibernating in my creative work.

  Landon stepped toward me and told me the number, without hesitation.

  “Text me!” he shouted, before he lit up another cigarette and followed his friends into the nighttime air.

  “Ryan!” Kami shouted, slugging me in the shoulder much harder than she needed to. “He was so cute!”

  “You’re telling me.”

  “And he was totally into you!”

  I shook my head. No he wasn’t. Of course he wasn’t. No guy that cute, and that sweet, and that charming, could possibly have been into me.

  “He gave you his number,” she said. “You should text him!”

  I saved his contact info and put my phone away. “He might’ve given me a fake number. What if I call him and the person who answers is a telemarketer from Malaysia?”

  “Well, I think this is great,” she said, ignoring my pessimism. “You two look so good together.”

  Kami turned around and walked to the bathroom again, even though she had peed less than five minutes ago. My brother shrugged his shoulders at me—being a straight jock type, albeit having no qualms with my homosexuality, Dustin had nothing to say in the matter.

  “How’s your drink?” he asked.

  I forgot I was still holding it. “Let’s get out of here,” I said. “I want to gamble before the countdown begins.”

  We stepped back into the furious cold around 11:30. The roads and sidewalks were almost empty, as if a blusterous wind had rolled into town and blown all the tourists into Tahoe.

  It only took a minute to discover that everyone had migrated to South Virginia Street, four blocks up, where at midnight fireworks would light up the night sky. The three of us walked side by side, passing over so many stretches of black ice that I was astonished to arrive to South Virginia without an embarrassing fall and a bump to my head.

  “You should text him,” said Kami.

  “You think? What should I say?”

  “Just tell him it was nice you finally got to meet each other. It’ll make him smile.”

  We entered the Harrah’s casino, which was adjacent to Reno’s famous arch. Since we had less than half an hour until show time, we abandoned the blackjack and instead, at Dustin’s insistence, ordered more drinks.

  I wanted to text Landon, but I had no idea what to text him. When I looked out the nearest window to see the arch, the idea finally popped into my head.

  “Oh my God,” I said.

  “What?” asked Kami.

  “I know what I’m going to say.”

  “You do?”

  Again, Dustin had no comment or interest. He loved me with all his heart, but he wasn’t one to jump up and down in excitement over my romantic undertakings.

  I hadn’t stopped thinking about Landon since we left the bar. Only a few minutes had passed since he disappeared from my side, but I already missed that statuesque smile, those chiseled cheekbones. I missed his warmth, his kindness, his comforting gaze into my eyes. I wanted to see him again. I wanted to see him again tonight.

  I started to text him. I decided not to think too hard about the words I punched into my phone, fearing I would psych myself out and cancel the text. I sent it before I had the chance to reconsider.

  Kami noticed me grinning, and she pushed past my brother to grab hold of my jacket. “You texted him, didn’t you?”

  “Maybe.”

  “What did you say?”

  “Wouldn’t you like to know?” I laughed. I liked teasing Kami.

  “Yes, I would! Tell me right now!”

  Her tightening grip on my jacket suggested I had to reveal my secrets to her pronto or she might try to murder me.

  “Okay, okay,” I said. “I told him I’d be under the arch at midnight, and that he should come find me.”

  Kami let out a wail so loud that at least ten nearby celebrators turned their heads toward her.

  “This is so exciting!” she shouted, finally letting go of my jacket. She clapped, then started dancing in place. “Oh my God, it’s so romantic!”

  “Yeah, well, for all I know he could be on his way to Carson City by now. That’s where he lives—”

  She flicked me on my forehead. “Doofus, don’t be a buzzkill. Think positive! It’s New Year’s!”

  She wrapped her arms around Dustin, who by this point looked disappointed that he hadn’t had the chance to gamble away all his money. I glanced down at my phone. Landon hadn’t texted me back. It was 11:38.

  At 11:45 I looked at my phone, for the fiftieth time in the last few minutes. Still no text. We traipsed through a depressing, crowded corner of the casino that was jam-packed with tacky nickel slots.

  “Anything?” Kami asked.

  I didn’t have the heart to voice a response. I shook my head, knowing full well that he probably wouldn’t get back to me. It had been almost ten minutes. That was like ten years in texting. He had given me his phone number, had asked me to text him, and he had to know through our pretty-well-obvious flirtations that I was into him. He knew I would try to contact him. He knew I knew he would have his phone on him. But he didn’t text me back. It was the surest sign of all. Not. Interested.

  I sighed and checked my phone again. 11:48. Still nothing.

  “We should go outside if we want to get a spot under the arch,” my brother said.

  I nodded and followed them outside, watching as Kami rested her head against Dustin’s shoulder and glanced back at me with sympathetic eyes.

  We curved around a winding outdoor corridor, and I tried my best to stop glancing at my cell phone every two seconds. We finally made it under the arch, and I found a spot in the center of the pedestrian infestation.

  The sign itself, located above my head, appeared to have been fixed in time for the New Year’s festivities. On a trip to Reno last Halloween, I headed downtown for a night out with two high school friends, only to discover the famous sign suffering from a bad case of cancer. “The Biggest Little City in the World” had been reduced to “The Biggest Little City World,” which I thought would make a great title for a Ray Bradbury short story. But tonight the sign had strength and pizzazz in every inch of its foundation, gleaming its lights against all the spectators waiting in the benumbing temperature for the free sky spectacular.

  “Did he ever text you back?” asked Kami.

  I shook my head.

  “I’m sorry, Ryan.”

  “It’s okay. It’s not like I actually expected him to—”

  I felt it against my leg, that wonderful, pulsating vibration. I pulled my phone out of my pocket and clicked open the main screen.

  The vibration hadn’t alerted me to a missed text from Landon; it had alerted me to a missed call.

  “Oh my God!” I shoute
d, loud enough to spook a family behind me.

  “What is it?” asked Kami. She pushed away from my brother and grabbed my jacket again.

  “He called me! I don’t believe it!”

  “Are you serious?”

  “Yes!”

  “Ryan! Oh my God, call him back! What time is it?”

  I checked. “11:53! Oh, holy crap—”

  “Call him!” Kami screamed. “Call him right now!”

  I was so embarrassingly excited that it took me three attempts just to dial his number, as I tried my best not to drop the phone through my fingers. Finally I heard ringing, and I smiled nervously at Kami as I awaited Landon’s response.