"Happy New Year!"
The whole house erupted at once as the both hands of clock hit twelve.
Shouts, cheers, whistles, and the loud pop-pop-pop of champagne corks flyed everywhere. Glasses clinked together, some spilling a little, but nobody cared.
Outside, the sky lit up like crazy with fireworks booming one after another—big red and gold explosions, then sparkling blue ones that rained down slowly, and green starbursts that made everyone's faces glow for a second.
Through the windows, I could see neighbors in their yards lighting more, the bangs echoing down the street.
Inside, the music was still blasting—some popular dance song that had everyone singing the chorus off-key. Balloons bobbed against the ceiling, confetti was already stuck in people's hair, and someone had just sprayed silly string across the coffee table.
The living room smelled like pizza, sweet punch, and that sharp, burnt sparkler smell drifting in from the back door. It was loud, messy, warm—exactly what a New Year's party should feel like.
This was the party I'd been counting down to for days.
And the real reason my heart was pounding harder than the bass from the speakers… was Chloe.
Chloe and I go way back, since we were little kids chasing each other around the backyard with water guns.
Her family moved in next door when I was maybe twelve or thirteen. I still remember that summer clearly: the moving truck parked outside, boxes everywhere, and then seeing her for the first time, standing on her driveway holding a stuffed rabbit. Because our houses are so close, our bedroom windows face each other across the little side yard. We used to talk out the windows late at night when we were supposed to be sleeping—shouting dumb jokes or holding up drawings for the other to see. Sometimes we'd even tie string between our windows with paper cups to make "phones." Kid stuff.
I don't know exactly when it changed for me. Maybe it was the year she got her braces off and smiled differently, or the night we stayed up watching shooting stars from our separate roofs.
Somewhere along the way, those butterflies I used to get from roller coasters started showing up whenever she laughed at something I said. But I never told her. I was too scared it would ruin everything.
We stayed best friends, going for movie nights, walking to school together, texting until stupid hours, but I kept that secret locked up tight.
Until tonight.
I'd been planning it for weeks. I even bought a small necklace—a simple silver chain with a tiny heart pendant. It's been sitting in a little blue box in my pocket all evening, and every time I touch it, my stomach flips. I kept rehearsing the words say in my head to Chloe.
Tonight, with the new year starting fresh and everyone around us celebrating, it felt like the perfect moment. The noise, the lights, the excitement—it would all make it magical, right?
* * *
Two days ago.
I was deep inside a dream where me and Chloe were laid on the grass holding each other's hand, watching the night sky and falling stars when suddenly.
BAM!
A sharp pain exploded in my hips, like someone had just slammed a soccer ball. My eyes snapped open, the dream vanished, and the next thing I knew I was rolling right off the edge of the bed. I hit the carpet with a heavy thud, air whooshing out of my lungs, tangled in my blanket like an idiot burrito.
"Ow… what the heck?!" I groaned, rubbing my side as I tried to untangle myself. My heart pounded from the sudden wake-up call, and the morning light coming through the curtains felt way too bright.
"I'm going to kill you today, Dickhead!" I heard a female voice filled with anger.
I looked up, still half on the floor, and there she was—Bella, standing over me with her hands on her hips and annoyed look on her face.
Bella was my elder sister. She was always the firecracker in our family, the one who'd snap back at anyone who crossed her without a second thought. Her temper flared up over the smallest things, like when someone cut her off in traffic or dared to challenge her in a game.
But damn, that passion spilled over into everything, made her the kind of girl who could turn a room electric just by walking in, her energy raw and unfiltered, hinting at how wild she'd be if you ever got her riled up in bed.
Her appearance screamed tomboy rebel, starting with that short, choppy necklength haircut she rocked like a badge of honor. Black strands falling to the sides, effortless way that framed her sharp jawline and those piercing eyes.
She'd run her fingers through it absentmindedly while venting about her day, But there was nothing boyish about how it highlighted her feminine features—the way it brushed against her neck, drawing your gaze down to the smooth curve of her collarbone.
Bella had this flexible build that drove guys crazy when watching her cheerleading and gymnastics sessions, but with curves that screamed for attention.
Her tits were perky handfuls, D-cups that strained against her tight tank tops, she wasn't wearing any bra, nipples poking through the fabric, begging to be pinched and teased until she arched her back in surrender.
Her ass was firm and round, jiggling just enough in her red mini shorts that she wore everyday at home, to make you imagine grabbing it while she rode you reverse cowgirl, her hot-headed moans filling the room.
She had one foot still raised a little, like she wasn't even sorry about the kick at all. Those red mini shorts she always wore around the house hugged her hips tight, showing off her long, smooth legs and those milky-white thighs that looked soft even from down here on the floor.
Because her leg was still up, the shorts had ridden higher on that side, and for a quick second I caught a flash of her white panties, simple cotton ones with a little lace edge before I forced my eyes up.
"What the hell, Bella? Why was that for? I was sleeping" I muttered, pushing myself up with one hand on the carpet and the other grabbing the edge of the bed for support. My side still hurt from where she'd kicked me, and I rubbed it awkwardly as I stood.
She crossed her arms under her chest, which only pushed her braless tits up more in that tight tank top She glared down at me with those fierce green eyes, the same angry look she always got when something set her off.
"Where is it?" she demanded, voice sharp.
"Huh? Where's what?" I blinked, still half-asleep and totally confused.
"My hoodie, dumbass. Where is it?" She leaned forward a little, like she was ready to kick me again if I didn't answer fast. "You know—the red one that I got in christmas. It's my favorite, and Mom said she gave it to you. Give it back. Right now!"
Even mad like this she looked kinda intimidating… and way too pretty for first thing in the morning. I swallowed, trying not to look down at her legs again, and glanced around my messy room for the hoodie I vaguely remembered throwing on my chair last night.
To be continued...
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