It's New Year's Eve. How are you going to ring in the year? Pining after Tom as usual? Or is something finally going to change?
You could feel your heart beating in time with the bass coming from Tom's apartment. Taking a deep breath, you put your hand on the doorknob and opened it, music immediately blasting your eardrums. How you were going to find your friends in this mess was beyond you. You adjusted the hem of your gold, sequined romper and darted your eyes around the flat. Why did Tom have to be so extra? Why couldn't he just have a little New Year's Eve get-together with Harrison and a few other friends? Why did he have to invite every acquaintance he had in all of the London area? You pushed your way past some people in an attempt to find your brown haired best friend somewhere in the crowd.
Tom had been your best friend for only a few years. You were friends with Caspar Lee, a relatively famous YouTuber in London, Caspar was friends with Conor Maynard, a British pop singing heartthrob, and Conor was friends with Tom. At least, they had met before and were on a first name basis. Long story short, you were out clubbing with Caspar and a few of his other friends and you met Tom. While all your friends were off getting drunk beyond repair, you and Tom found a somewhat quiet area in the corner of the club where you could talk and sip your waters like the good designated drivers you were. The rest, as they say, was history.
"Christ, (Y/N), looking good!"
You were in the middle of pouring yourself a drink when Conor approached you. You smiled and gave him a hug in greeting. "New Year's resolution to catch Tom's attention?" he teased. "You won't have a problem with it wearing that." You rolled your eyes at him and took a big sip of your Jack and Coke.
"Don't be gross," you told him. Conor just laughed and put his arm around your waist and hugging you to his side.
"I can be a good wingman for you," he continued.
"I don't need a wingman you div," you laughed, pushing him away from you. "I'm perfectly fine with my relationship with Tom as it is."
"Relationship?" he teased.
"Relationship, friendship, shut the fuck up."
Conor laughed and placed a sloppy kiss to your cheek. You could smell the alcohol on his breath and wondered how long he had been at the party. "Caspar and some of the other boys are around here somewhere," Conor slurred, taking a sip of the beer he held in his hand.
"S'alright," you told him, patting his chest. "I think I'll go find Tom."
You were grateful it didn't take you too much longer to find Tom. He was sitting on a couch with Harrison and Jacob, drinking a beer and laughing loudly. When he caught your eye, he jumped up from the couch, swaying a bit as he did so. You laughed and walked over to him. "Babe!" he said, sounding a little tipsy. "You made it!"
"Course I did," you said. He pulled you in for a hug, laying his hand on your bare back. You felt your skin burn where he touched you and you took a deep breath, enjoying the smell of his cologne.
Okay, so Conor was right. Hell would freeze over before you'd tell him that, though.
When Tom sat down, he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you on to his lap. You nearly spilled your drink but managed to keep it all in the cup. "Feeling handsy tonight, are we Tommy?" you teased, unable to stop yourself from running your fingers through the curls at the nape of his neck. He hummed and grinned lazily up at you.
"Can't help it when I'm tipsy and you're so pretty," he slurred. You could feel your face heat up but just rolled your eyes and took a large drink from your glass.
