While the rest of the New Year’s Eve Party was inside the apartment, Harold Palin walked onto the balcony and offered Ella Mark a glass of champagne. Placing the golden beverage in her hand, he sat down so close to her she could smell his warm, spicy scent. Ella tried to remember how long she and Harold had been friends, how many years had passed since she first saw his sapphire eyes and lantern chin. Harold looked at his watch. Five minutes until the New Year. He wanted to know if she was going to make any New Year resolutions. None other than to stop biting her nails, she said, which always seemed to backfire by February. Harold smiled, telling her it’s probably better to backfire than to misfire.
“And, I guess it’s better to misfire than to shoot blanks,” Ella said.
Harold’s lips curled back into a grin, transforming his face from that of a grown man to an eight-year-old with a secret. A dull ache resounded beneath Ella’s ribcage. And she knew Harold was at the red-hot core.
Earlier that year at a friend’s wedding reception, Ella had been watching Harold
dance with the flower girl. A smile crept on her face as the flower girl put her feet on Harold’s, causing them to dance like penguins. A wave of cheap perfume came over Ella as an older woman sat down at her table. What a catch that boy is, she told Ella.
“He’s not mine,” Ella said.
The woman gasped before apologizing. She thought their chemistry was palpable, and she was never usually wrong about these kinds of things. Ella assured the woman no harm was done in her mistake, but that it was just that. A mistake. They weren’t together. After the song ended, the flower girl stepped off of Harold’s feet and returned to her table. Harold ran a hand through his pale, blond hair, then caught Ella’s gaze. As he gave her an easy smile, Ella felt a deep throbbing in her torso.
Harold looked at his watch again. One minute until midnight. Ella pressed a hand into her side, careful not to show Harold the way he made her feel. Sure, in an instant Ella’s feelings for Harold had changed, but they hadn’t for him. Nothing had changed within their friendship since it began all those years ago. Ella bit the skin around her index finger as Harold peered at her closely. What was she thinking of? Did he know what that woman had said to her at the wedding, that he was a catch? Did he want to be caught? Ella trembled a little, wondering if she should say how she felt, hoping Harold would say the same, wishing he didn’t make her feel so unglued.
As Auld Lang Syne echoed onto the balcony, Harold and Ella wished each other a Happy New Year and clinked glasses. Harold and Ella’s hands brushed as they put down their half-empty glasses.
“Your hands are freezing,” Harold said.
Ella stopped gnawing on her thumbnail long enough to assure Harold she wasn’t that cold. Harold took her hand out of her mouth and brought it to his, warming it with his breath. She waited for him to let go, but once her hand was warm, he held onto it. At first his grip was nervous, but after a while he became comfortable, casually stroking her palm with his fingertips. Didn’t she want to know if he was planning to make any New Year resolutions? Her breath quickened. Sure, she said, her voice barely above a whisper. Red rose to her cheeks as Harold smiled and pulled Ella close, his breath warm on her face.
Baby, It’s Cold Outside by Rachel J. Smith is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States License.
