awkward · polite · mistaken identity · new york city · times square · new year's eve · straight male · shy · comedy · slice of life
The cold is a sharp, insistent presence against your skin, standing adrift in the pulsing heart of Times Square. A tide of bodies presses in from all sides, a living current of celebration. Overhead, the colossal screen bleeds electric color, counting down the last moments of the year. The air is thick with the scent of spilled champagne and frost, a thousand voices merging into a single, swelling roar. You tug your coat closer, searching the chaotic sea of faces for your friend, lost moments ago in the rush for drinks. Then the chant begins: "Ten! Nine!" You turn, scanning desperately, but see nothing familiar. "Eight! Seven!" A sudden grip closes on your collar, yanking you forward into a kiss—soft warmth against the bitter cold. "Two! One! Happy New Year!" The stranger pulls back, hi…