"Thanks a fucking heap, Fred," I hiss as I walk past my bandmate, whacking his shoulder as I pass. That prying son-of-a-bitch. He'd have the most epic fit if I pulled something like that, but does he have any qualms about butting into my affairs?

Drunk and pissed off, I fight my way through the crowd. The injustice of the situation stings. First, Skylar tells me that she wants to be friends. Then, when I least expect it, she shows up at a party where she knows I'll be. It's the one night of the year when no one wants to be alone, and she's annoyed that I brought a date!? That doesn't make me a slut, love, it makes me fucking human.

Around me, people are counting down to midnight, and I just want to find the front door. At this moment, I don't give a toss about Skylar or Theo or Theresa or anyone else. I just want to breathe some fresh air and smoke a cig. As the room erupts in a boisterous "Happy New Year!," I weave around snogging twosomes, wishing they would all piss off and go be festive elsewhere.

"You alright, Roger?" Deaky's arm is slung around his girlfriend's waist. I nod and continue my trek towards the front door, stopping only when I see Theo smoking a cigarette by the window. Narrowing my eyes, I march up to him.

"How's that hand doing, mate?" he asks with a self-satisfied smirk. I wonder idly where Skylar is since she's clearly not with him, but can only focus on the noise in my head.

"Leave her alone," I say in a low voice. I feel a resurgence of the protective caveman feeling that I got earlier when I first saw him across the room with Skylar.

"And why is that?" he asks, his grin widening.

"Just stay away," I repeat.

"Yeah, alright," he replies with a devious smirk. "But I can't promise that she'll stay away from me. In fact, she was saying--"

I lunge for him, not wanting to hear the end of the sentence. He tries to back up but hits the wall behind him. I almost have my hands on him when Mary appears out of nowhere and intervenes, throwing herself in between us.

"Take a walk, Rog," she orders, waving me away with a bemused look on her face.

"And you can fuck right off, Theo," she says sternly, turning his way. He starts to protest but she cuts him off. "Seriously, get out of our flat."

I'm already halfway to the door because, honestly, I'm over this. It's not worth it. Skylar doesn't want to be with me anyway, so what do I care if she shags Theo? Though it'll likely be a disappointing experience, as he'll probably last all of 30 seconds, but hey, that's not my problem.

As I'm about to open the front door, I look through the small side window and see you-know-who standing outside smoking. It's begun to snow, and she's not wearing a coat, so I imagine that she's slowly freezing to death out there.

With a frustrated sigh, I take two steps backward to the giant heap of jackets by the door, quickly grabbing my enormous fur coat, and, after a second's hesitation, I pick up a random one as well.

I pause by the door, trying to drown out all the noise in my head. A smarter bloke would turn around and re-join the party, taking advantage of the guaranteed shag before the night's end. But, apparently, that's not me because I reluctantly push open the door and walk out into the freezing cold.

Skylar doesn't turn around, deep in thought with her eyes focused on the pavement. I walk down the stairs and approach her silently. I open the navy blue pea coat in my arms to drape it over her shoulder. She looks up, startled.

"This isn't mine," she says, looking down at the coat.

"Doesn't make it any less warm," I reply, taking a cigarette out of my pocket. "Do you have a light?"

She fumbles in her pocket for a pack of matches, which she hands to me. We stand silently for a few moments until she finishes her cigarette and throws the butt on the ground, squashing it with her shoe. She turns towards the staircase of Freddie and Mary's building.

"Skylar--" I reach out to grasp her arm lightly. My voice sounds raspier than usual, my breath making bright white puffs of condensation in the air around me.

"I don't want to do this right now, Rog. I'm going to get my things, and then I'm going home." She breaks free of my grasp and begins to walk up the small staircase.

"I didn't know you were going to be here tonight, Sky. Freddie didn't tell me."

"That much was evident," Skylar says tartly, stopping midway up the stairs and turning back towards me. Suddenly, the unfairness of the situation hits me. What fucking right did she have to judge me for anything?

"Oh, so you're upset that I brought Theresa?" I cross my arms in front of my chest, my head cocked to one side.

"I didn't say that," she bites back. She glares at me, and I wonder if she's more annoyed that I brought Theresa or that she seems to care so much.

"So let me get this straight: You say you want to be friends. And yet you throw a strop when I show up with a date?"

"Date? Is that what you're calling it? How genteel of you, sir."

I roll my eyes. This is so goddamn unjust. It's not as if I picked up some random chick at a bar two hours ago; Theresa and I have known each other for a while and are sometimes, um, friendly. It's just a bit of fun for us both. No harm, no foul.

But I'm not going to tell Skylar any of that. Since she thinks she has me all figured out, I'll just let her think that I was planning a raucous orgy in Freddie's toilet just after midnight. Come one, come all!

"Why do you even care?" I challenge, uncrossing my arms and taking a half-step towards her.

The snow has picked up, and it's fucking Baltic out. I shiver involuntarily, and her eyes soften. But only fleetingly, as the next moment, she's walking back into Freddie's flat. Music blares as the door opens, softening as soon as it bangs shut behind her.

"Fuck this," I mutter as I kick at a random branch on the ground. I look at my watch and realize that Theresa is likely looking for me by now. Listening to the muted sounds of revelry from the high street, I finish my cigarette. I'm just about to re-join the party when the door opens, blasting me with warm air and the sounds of party-goers happily shrieking the la-la-la-la-la-las of 'Crocodile Rock.'

Skylar re-appears, this time wearing a long cream coat that's belted around the waist. She's pulled her hair back and has a weary look in her eyes. Suddenly, I wonder why she even came tonight. Seeing things from her perspective, I wonder if perhaps she had fancied spending New Year's Eve with me, only to find me here with another girl.

But I've probably got it all wrong.

Before I've had time to think it all through, she walks down the stairs and over to me. She stands on her tip-toes and presses a soft kiss to my cheek.

"Happy 1974, Taylor," she says softly, breaking away to walk quickly down the block. I watch her go, trying to quell the words that are bubbling in my chest.

"What are you so afraid of?" I call down the block to her, causing her to pause in her tracks. I see her shoulders rise, then fall, before she whirls around and stomps back my way. Her eyes are fiery, her mouth open slightly from the effort of walking briskly against the icy wind.

As she reaches me, I'm about to say a few more choice words, but she does something that takes me utterly by surprise. Instead of the angry retort that I'm expecting, her arm loops around my neck. She roughly pulls my head towards hers, our lips crashing together.

As her lips move angrily against mine, I hesitate, still in shock over the rapid turn of events. Quickly, though, instinct takes over, and soon I'm returning the kiss hungrily. My hand moves to the nape of her neck, tilting her head so that it's at a better angle. Her fingers knot in my hair, tugging it lightly, our tongues crashing together.

And then, as quickly as it started, it's over. Skylar jerks back and I automatically reach out both arms to steady her. We stand there, our faces so close they're almost touching, our labored breaths turning into white puffs of air between us.

"Wha-- What was that?" I ask softly. Not that I'm complaining, mind you, but Jesus. So many questions are swirling in my head, and I curse the inordinate amount of champagne that I'd consumed, which is making all this a little too fuzzy.

"I don't know," she mumbles, looking at the ground. I duck my head to meet her eyes and realize that she's also pretty drunk at the moment. Fuck, she's going to regret this in the morning. I just know it.

I release her and take a half step back. She shivers and wraps her arms protectively around her torso. With a sigh, I pull her closer until her body is nestled next to mine under my coat.

"Sky--"

"It's late, Roger. And I'm not-- um, I'm not thinking straight."

Resting my chin against her temple, I look down the street where I see the blurry tail lights of cars on the high street. "Come back to the party," I say softly. She chuckles and shakes her head.

"I don't think your date would appreciate that," she replies, looking anywhere but at me. For the life of me, I can't figure out why we can't manage to have an honest conversation that doesn't involve either a telephone or our eyes being averted from one another.

"Well, at least answer my question."

"What question?" she hedges, one hand rubbing her eyes. I pull away slightly so that I can see her. Reaching out to brush her snow-laced fringe out of her eyes, I repeat my earlier query.

"What are you afraid of?"

"I'm not afraid of anything."

"Then why do you care so much that I brought a date? That's not what I'd expect from someone who wants everything to be strictly platonic."

She briefly raises her eyes to mine and then, just as quickly, returns her gaze back to the ground. As we stand there in silence, I reflect on the fact that it's bloody ridiculous that we're standing here in the fucking snow having this conversation.

"I don't know," she finally mutters. "But I know that you should go back to her."

I sigh, irritation and anger burning in my belly. Is it so fucking hard for Skylar to admit that maybe--just fucking maybe--she fancies me? I'm not used to wearing my heart on my sleeve, and it's getting old very fast.

"Alright, I will," I say defiantly. Skylar glances up through those annoyingly long lashes and, after a moment, nods her head resolutely.

"Goodnight, Roger," she says, standing on her toes to press her cold lips to my cheek before she turns around and starts to trudge through the snow towards her flat.

"I will... after I walk you home," I say, surprising myself. Good God, do I have no survival instinct whatsoever? Not even a meter away, there's a room full of friendly, not-at-all confusing people who would be delighted for my company. But instead, I'm going to walk this beguiling woman back to her flat. And then, like an idiot, I'll trek all the way back to the party. I'll be a blue-balled snowman by the end.

She turns around, a look of surprise in her eyes that makes all this worth it. "You don't have to do that."

"I know," I say simply, offering her my arm. She takes it hesitantly and we gingerly start off towards her flat, which, luckily, is only a few blocks away. We're halfway there when I hit a patch of ice and go flying. I involuntarily grab her arm to steady myself, which, of course, brings us both tumbling to the ground.

I land heavily on my arse, Skylar in a heap on top of me. We lay there a second, stunned before I let out a groan and stare up into the black sky.

"If you make a dirty joke right now, Roger, I swear--"

I lift my head and try to smile, but I'm in too much pain. Her face is close to mine, her pupils dilating at the proximity. She blinks and then sits back on her haunches.

"Wouldn't dream of it, love," I reply, sitting up with a groan. Her brow furrows, and she put an arm on my shoulder to stop me from moving.

"You alright?" she asks, and I can practically see the medical part of her brain activate as she reaches down towards my waist. She looks up at me, asking permission, and I nod. Her hand wraps around to my upper thigh, and she prods it gently, causing me to wince in pain.

"You're going to have a bruise tomorrow," she comments. She starts to pull away.

"It's actually much worse a bit higher," I say with puppy dog eyes, seeing if she'll fall for it. She's in full-on doctor mode, and it's sexy as hell.

Skylar cocks her head and moves her hand up until it's more or less grasping my ass. "Here?"

"Mmm, right there," I say, sounding as deliberately lascivious as possible. She finally catches on and pulls her hand away as if it were touching hot coals, a smirk on her face.

"We just got to second base, Sky," I say with a grin. As she rolls her eyes, I heave myself up, and we both brush snow off our clothes.

By the time we reach her flat, we're both giddy, though it's hard to tell if it's from alcohol or frostbite. As we come to a standstill at the bottom of the staircase, a sudden gust of wind lifts our hair into the air, intertwining dark and blonde locks together.

We're standing so close, and she looks so beautiful. I don't dare move in for another kiss, but I can tell that she's thinking about it, her eyes focused on my lips. When she finally looks up to meet my gaze, I put a cold hand lightly on her cheek.

"Happy New Year, Sky."

Her hazel eyes dart between mine as she considers her next move. She closes her eyes for a beat before opening them and giving me a half-smile. My heart sinks as she pulls away. I exhale slowly, patting the pockets of my jacket in search of cigarettes as she begins to climb up the stairs.

I'm in the middle of cursing myself for even trying when she turns around, her keys in one hand.

"Do you want to come inside?" she asks, gesturing to front door of her flat.

"What?" I ask, momentarily confused. She stands at the top of the stairs, looking at me quizzically. Her head is cocked to one side, the look in her eyes unreadable. Does she want me to come in just so I can warm up? So we can continue what we started earlier? It's impossible to know.

"Do you want to come in?" she repeats, descending one step towards me.

I put one foot on the first step and hesitate, my brow furrowed. For the first time, she's put the ball squarely in my court. The question is, what will I do with it?