Paper Hearts

Prologue:

"Maybe we should get back" my voice is raised over the pounding music; as I speak to Emma the lights cause her face to flash from pink to green to red and back again. I don't know whether I'm getting old or what, but my head is killing me. 

Emma laughs incredulously, shrugging the suggestion off almost as though I never made it.

"No, Eden. There is no way I'm letting you go home before the clock's even struck midnight! You never get to come out, you may as well enjoy it"

She demonstrates this by taking a huge slurp of her Cosmopolitan and grabbing my hand to haul me back onto the dance floor. Laughing, I have no choice but to follow her, but the space is so packed that my clammy hand soon slips out of her grasp and her chestnut-brown head disappears into the crowd. I carry on dancing, moving through the throng of bodies as I do so, my eyes now on the glittering silver clock projected onto the wall. The hands jerk forward another minute - it's almost twelve now. Almost time for a new start - and God knows I need one.

I have stopped looking for Emma now, swaying in time to the music instead - I can go and find her once midnight has come and beg her to go home - though I'm just beginning to enjoy myself. I feel someone come up behind me, quite close, moving in unison with me. I've smelt that aftershave somewhere before - but I can't think about that now.

He is very, very close now. It's almost time for the countdown. His hands rest very lightly, cautiously, either side of my waist, as if worried that I might turn round and slap him for daring to touch me. If Emma hadn't plied me with so much alcohol, I might have done, but I'm starting to feel comfortably woozy, so instead I smile. My hips twist and turn as though attuned to the slightest touch from this stranger's hands - we are moving in time with each other, even though the rhythm has changed.

The hand on the clock moves again.

Ten.

Nine.

Eight.

Seven.

Six.

Five.

Four.

Three.

Two.

One.

The crowd cheers, laughs - people begin hugging and kissing people who I'm pretty sure are complete strangers to them. I am smiling to myself, still moving with this man whose touch feels so familiar.

"Happy New Year" I murmur to this mysterious stranger, not sure if I want him to hear me - it might break the spell. I do not turn.

His lips press lightly against my ear, sending shivers racing up and down my spine, because I know those lips, I know that feeling. I have to hold back the gasp that flies to my lips.

"Happy New Year, Eden"