New Year's Eve

New Year's Eve 2009 - Part Two

Robert was the one to break the silence, surprising me. He slid his phone into his pocket and said, with an abashed expression on his face, “Look, I’m sorry about being rude before. I’m just annoyed with my parents. I didn’t even want to come to this stupid party.”

Perplexed at his apology — and especially at how suddenly it happened — I looked over at Robert, wondering what brought his speech on. I then snapped out of it, realising he was extending an olive branch, so perhaps I should do the same. “That’s fine. Don’t worry about it. I didn’t want to come either. I don’t even know anyone.”

“Same!” Robert exclaimed, his relief palpable at finding a kindred spirit in the most peculiar of situations. “Did your dad give you a lecture about it being a tradition?”

“Yes!” I nodded.

“It makes it worse, though, because I’m the boss’s son. I have to turn up to these things, no matter how boring they are. I don’t have an excuse.”

I chuckled. “Yeah, I understand; I would hate to be in your shoes. I swear the only reason my dad comes to this thing year in, year out is so he can get a promotion.”

“Well, I’ll put a good word in with my dad.” Robert laughed, looking across at the men in question. “And see if I can sort something out.”

“Oh, would you?” I giggled. “Then he won’t have to suck up, and then we wouldn’t have to come here anymore! He’d be happy with his pay rise and leave it at that.”

We both fell into another silence, unsure how to keep the conversation going with a relative stranger. This time, however, it was less awkward and more comfortable.

Robert didn’t seem so bad, I guess. He wasn’t as grumpy as I first assumed he was. He was also pretty attractive, with his unruly dark hair and piercing blue eyes. He was not painful to look at. I’d give him that. If there was only one good thing to come of this evening, it was being able to look at Robert.

How quickly my mood changed when I could stare at a good-looking boy...

“What school do you go to?” I asked him. “I’ve never seen you around before.”

“Oh, I go to a private school on the edge of the town.” Robert turned his nose up in disgust. “I’d rather go to a normal school; everything seems so much more fun than my stuffy, uptight one.”

“I wouldn’t believe what you see in films,” I warned him, shuddering at the thought of my god-awful school. “Normal schools are so boring, and the people annoy me.”

“But I’m sure you can make friends there.” Robert pointed out. “Everyone at my school is so snobby; they think they’re better than everyone else. But we’re all in the same private school, so it doesn’t really make any sense.”

“Well, yeah, I’ve got friends, but I don’t associate myself with many people at school. A lot of them look down on everyone else, as well. So, if I had a choice, I’d choose to go to your school. Although there doesn’t seem to be much difference. I’m sorry, I’m rambling.”

“It’s okay,” Robert smiled, sweetly. “I don’t mind.”

We stayed talking and laughing for a few hours; I didn’t even realise how long we had been conversing for. When the buffet table opened, we immediately ran towards it. We mounted our plates high with food before stuffing our faces when we got back to the table. It hardly looked attractive, but I didn’t care.

About halfway through the night, we decided we would stop sulking and have some fun instead. Better late than never. We got up dancing to every song — even the songs we didn’t know — making up silly dance routines as we went along. When we knew a song, we had no hesitation about singing it at the top of our voices. No matter how awful and out of tune it sounded. But we didn’t care, and no one else did either. We were all just having a good time, laughing at our own ridiculousness.

When a slow song came on and everyone began to find their partners, Robert and I mimicked a slow dance. But we made it ten times more humorous and ten times less romantic than everyone made it out to be. We were falling about laughing by the end of it, our laughter infectious and spreading to those around us.

At 15 minutes to midnight, Frank instructed all the guests to make their way outside. We stepped through giant, sliding glass doors at the back of the room and onto a muddy field. It was a good job I wasn’t wearing heels because I would have sunk lower with every step I took, thanks to the wonderful British wintertime. Some partygoers stayed on the patio near the doors to avoid the mud, but the thought of getting my shoes muddy did not bother me in the slightest. Mum wouldn’t be too pleased, however. But that was her own fault for forcing me into the god-awful contraptions.

Frank stepped out in front of the crowd, looking as confident as you would be if you owned a massively successful company. He delivered his annual speech on the company’s performance over the previous year. He went on to say that he hoped the company would continue to improve over the years. All the employees listened intently, while a lot of the very few younger guests looked around aimlessly, eager for the fireworks to start.

It was then time for the countdown. We all huddled together in one massive clump before counting down from ten to zero. This was one of my favourite things about the New Year. The exhilaration of waiting for the fireworks to burst through the sky, and everyone rejoicing, wishing for a wonderful year.

“3... 2... 1! HAPPY NEW YEAR!” Everyone chanted. Fireworks shot into the sky, and the bright colours astounded and mesmerised me. No matter how mature I claimed I was becoming, I would never get too old for a magnificent firework display.

I found both my parents and pulled them in for an enormous hug. This was another of our traditions for hitting the New Year. We would always be the first ones to hug each other and deliver our well-wishes for the future. We would always ensure that was the case, despite some initial negative feelings at the start of the night.

“Happy New Year, Mum!” I grinned. “Happy New Year, Dad!”

“Happy New Year, sweetheart!” Both of my parents announced in almost perfect unison. They were so accustomed to saying it every year.

A tap on my shoulder arrived, and I whirled around to see Robert with a huge grin on his face. He then scooped me up into a massive hug, disregarding the fact that we barely knew each other.

“Thank you for making this night bearable.” Robert chuckled when he finally put me down.

“No problem.” I grinned in reply. “I guess you made my night pretty fun, too.”

“Happy New Year, Scarlett,” said Robert.

“Happy New Year, Robert,” I replied.