In my defense, it's not as if I went looking for Skylar. How was I supposed to know that she lived nearby?

I was simply popping out to the shops on a Tuesday afternoon, minding my own business. In fact, she's the one who ran into me, and I mean that quite literally. It was freezing that day and the ground was icy. The poor dear slipped on the slick pavement and nearly knocked me over. After realizing that we knew one another, she kindly agreed to help me shop for party decorations.

So it was only natural that I invited her to the party. After all, everyone deserves to be somewhere on New Year's Eve. And I'd invited most everyone I knew, so why not her? The fact that my mate fancied her--and hadn't managed to move past a few mid-afternoon coffee dates--was just an added bonus.

So, you see, I wasn't meddling. I was simply trying to move things along for those two. Because from what I gather, Skylar has decided to stay very safely in the friend zone when it comes to Rog. Which is fair, because he's a bit of a heartbreaker.

The thing is, I'm not convinced that he wants to be. It's more a role he got stuck with. Oh, sure, he acts like a fucking trollop most of the time, but my theory is that, deep down, he wants to find a special someone. So, I decided to nudge things along.

Oh, fine. 

I fucking meddled, alright? Happy now?

I talked up the party, making it sound as if the everyone except the Duke of Edinburgh would be there. Skylar hemmed and hawed, just as I knew she would, but finally said that she'd try to drop by. And then I went on my merry way.

By the time New Year's Eve rolled around, I'd forgotten all about our encounter. That is, until she walked through our front door, looking very chic in leather trousers and a red velvet top. She was very giggly and keyed up as I handed her a glass of champagne. Her eyes roamed the room, likely looking for Roger, who hadn't yet graced us with his presence.

I left Skylar in the competent hands of John and Veronica, who stood around, chatting happily. I happened to glance over a few minutes later and noticed that a fourth person had joined them. Craning my head, I saw through the throngs of people that it was Theo Dormer, the music critic for Rolling Stone. He was Roger's nemesis, partially because he shagged Roger's last girlfriend, but mostly because he's an all-around twat.

Abruptly, I realize that I've failed to mention to Rog that I've invited his crush to the party. I imagine that he'll be delighted that I've cleverly orchestrated the two of them being in the same room on a night when it's perfectly acceptable, if not downright mandatory, to kiss at midnight.

I stand near the door, chatting with one of Mary's mates and discreetly eyeing Skylar and Theo across the room. She's smiling politely at him, and I can't tell if she's figured out that he's a real cherub.

At that very moment, Roger walks through the front door looking like the fucking Queen of Sheba in an enormous fur coat and tousled hair, a pretty redhead on his arm.

Well, fuck. It hadn't occurred to me that Roger would bring a date, not when he seems to be pining away for Skylar, but, then again, who wants to be alone on New Year's Eve?

"The party can get started now!" He jokes loudly as he walks into the door, pressing several bottles of vodka into my arms. "I told you I'd make it before midnight, Fred."

"Rog--" I try to interrupt, but he's already halfway across the room. From the looks of it, he isn't exactly sober. Suddenly, I wonder if this precise situation is why Mary always tells me to butt out of other people's love lives.

Next thing I know, Roger's on the other side of the room with a glass of cheap vodka in one hand, a cigarette dangling from the other, and a silly party hat perched in his hair. His arm is firmly wrapped around his date's waist, and they look like they know each other pretty well.

My eyes swivel to Skylar, who is still chatting with Veronica and Theo. She has a smile plastered to her face, but I get the distinct feeling that she spotted Roger the moment that he entered with his arm candy.

I walk over to Mary and hand over the bottles of booze. She shakes her head in mock disappointment, a wry I-told-you-so look on her face. "I'm going to fix this!" I say brightly, grabbing yet another glass of champagne from the table nearby. I'm not exactly sober myself, but fuck off, it's the final night of 1973.

"No, don't try to fix anything, Freddie!" she pleads. "You always make things worse when you meddle!"

I wave her off, determined to tell Roger that his girl is here. Heading over to where I saw him last, I realize that he and the redhead have migrated across the room. Now they're huddled in a corner, all over each other like this is some sort of brothel.

I look back towards Veronica and John, but Skylar is nowhere to be seen. I make eye contact with Deaky, who shrugs helplessly. My eyes roving around the room, I finally spot Skylar in the far corner chatting with Theo. She downs a glass of champagne rapidly and leans into him a bit, looking a bit flirty.

Continuing over to Roger, I manage to pull him away from the redhead. "Rog--"

"Freddie!" he shouts boisterously above the din of the party. "This is a cracking party, mate."

"The thing is--"

"When you said that you could outdo our last year's party, I thought you were full of shit, but--"

"Roger--"

"You managed to do it, I admit." He claps his hand on my back happily and briefly looks over my shoulder. I feel him stiffen and pull his hand away, a frown tugging on his lips.

"Fred?"

"The thing is, Rog--"

"Freddie--" His voice drops a few octaves, his tone one of someone who wasn't to be trifled with.

"I meant to tell you earlier--"

"What the fuck, Freddie?" he hissed. "Why is Skylar here, and why is Theo fucking Dormer chatting her up? He's probably slagging off The Who to her right now."

"Well, it was sort of meant to be a surprise, Rog," I respond. "I didn't think, um..." I look pointedly at the woman standing behind him, who's twirling a long piece of hair around her finger, looking bored. "Well, I thought it could be sort of a happy reunion, you know, since she'll only see you for the odd coffee--"

Roger rolls his eyes at me, and I can see him try to control his anger. "Do you think she's seen me?"

"Uh, well... everyone has seen you, Rog. I mean, you look like a ponce in that coat, and you've had your hands all over...". I lower my voice to a whisper. "Anyway, what're you going to do? Chuck your date out on the street just before midnight? I think you've made your bed."

"More like you've made it for me," he mutters as he downs the rest of his drink, his eyes roving the room for a bottle with which to refill it.

Before I can respond, I'm pulled away because a small hand towel has been set afire by one of the candles in the toilet. Once Mary and I have managed to put out the tiny blaze, she pulls me over to a group of people and puts a drink in my hand, likely to keep me from further involving myself in the drama.

For the next hour or so, I covertly keep track of the situation. For reasons unknown to me, they're both pretending like they don't see each other, instead choosing to overtly flirt with others and steadily get sloshed. Except they're both giving the other furtive glances and looks of longing and, in Roger's case, unadulterated lust. It's like a bloody Jane Austen novel here tonight.

A few minutes before midnight, Roger finally makes his move. He peels the redhead off of him and saunters over to the corner where Skylar is standing. She's finally alone. Roger gently touches her shoulder, and she turns around, her eyes softening.

Satisfied that all is about to be right in the world, I'm about to turn back to my conversation when I spot Roger's date make a beeline towards him. I hurriedly excuse myself from the conversation and weave my way through the crowd, cutting her off.

"I don't think we've been properly introduced, darling," I chirp, putting an arm around her shoulder and turning her towards the other side of the room.

Around us, the party is raging: champagne corks popping every few minutes as a new bottle is opened, music blaring, everyone starting to feel good. Roger and Skylar continue to chat, though obviously, I can't hear a word they're saying because I'm stuck entertaining Roger's date who, I assume, he didn't invite tonight for her conversational skills.

"Isn't he dishy?" she coos, looking over at Roger. She notices Roger take a half-step towards Skylar and a small frown forms on her pretty face.

"The dishiest," I reply drily, my eyes roving around the room until they meet Brian's, and I silently send him an SOS signal. He rolls his eyes, but heads over anyway.

"I think Mary is looking for you, Fred," Brian says, coming to my rescue like the legend that he is.

"Oh, is she?" I asked, brightly. "Brian, have you met Theresa?" I practically shove them together and whirl around to make my way through the drunken crowd.

Once I'm halfway across the room, Theo returns and puts a proprietary arm around Skylar's shoulder. To her credit, she tries to shrug out of his grasp, but I don't think Roger processes that. Theo says something to Roger, causing the drummer to take a step towards him. Skylar's eyes are going between the two men as if it's a ping pong match, a half-bemused, half-disgusted look on her face.

"Is he bothering you?" Theo says to Skylar, and I remember how annoying his voice is. Who even brought him here tonight?! From this day forth, my flat will officially be a no-Theo zone.

"Am I bothering-- Are you fucking kidding me?" Roger takes another step forward, and I know that look.

My bandmate is about to lose it.

Skylar senses that the situation is escalating quickly and says something softly, whether to Theo or Roger, I don't know. She puts a hand on Theo's arm to turn him away from Roger, likely hoping that creating distance between the two of them will defuse the tension. And it may have worked, but, after starting to walk away, Theo looks back over his shoulder and says something to Roger.

By this point, I'm practically shoving people out of my way trying to get to Roger before he does something stupid. I don't think that I'll make it in time but, luckily, manage to throw myself in between the two fellows at the last second.

Which, unfortunately for me, means that I bear the brunt of Roger's fist, which hits me squarely in the lower jaw.

"Mother! Fucker!" I thunder, glaring at Roger as I stagger back and I rub my jaw.

"You jumped in front of me!" he cries defensively, rubbing his knuckle and wincing in pain.

"Oh, I'm sorry, did my fucking jaw hurt your tender little hand? You stupid twat, we're going on tour in three days, what if can't play?"

"Stop fucking interfering in everything, Freddie, that fucker had it coming--"

At that moment, we both glance around and realize that both Skylar and Theo are gone. Roger rolls his eyes and shoves me lightly as he rushes past.

"Thanks a fucking heap, Fred," he mutters as he starts to make his way through the crowd. I watch his blonde head weaving towards the front door as I hear the crowd around me begin to chant.

5

4

3

2

1

HAPPY NEW YEAR!

I stand there, rubbing my jaw as the room erupts in cheers and everyone is snogging the closest person. I spy a bottle of champagne on the table near me and grab it, taking a long swig. Good Lord, I'm exhausted by the theatrics of the past hour, even if it is all my fault.

"I told you not to meddle." I hear a knowing voice from behind me, just before Mary wraps her arms around my torso. I lean back into her for a moment, feeling her lips just next to my ear.

"Happy New Year, Freddie" she says softly. I wrap my arms behind me to envelop her tiny waist, holding her tight.

"Happy new year, darling."