Prologue: Part 22 of 23

Alright, Astrid. Time to regroup. 10.23PM on New Years Eve night, and she had no idea where anyone was. Shit. She hated when this happened. They were probably all at Chris' house, getting fucked up and laughing at her not being there. It wasn't fair! She only got off of work twenty minutes ago!

She glared at her reflection in the mirror as she brushed out her hair; shaking vibrant purple strands free of tangles. Pink bangs were side-swept from her face, exposing one wide, Asiatic eye lined carefully with black liquid liner. Well, so much for New Years. White hands pressed against her flat stomach, feeling the threadbare fabric of her Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles shirt. Guess it was just gonna be her and the teevee.

On the other side of town, a certain Dante was sprawled on his couch, face pressed against a small puddle of drool. Dick Clark (at least, he thought that was the guy's name) was doing his usual special. Some New Year's Eve.

"Uhn," he grunted into the pillow. He was mildly stoned, and the special on tv about the ball was so boring it was setting him sober. Slowly he pushed himself up and made his way toward the bathroom. He turned the light on and found himself face to face with a scrubby, unshaved, long-haired monster. Not to mention the bloodshot eyes. "Shit," he muttered, unzipping his fly and aiming for the toilet. There was no way he was going out tonight.

Or was there. He hadn't talked to anyone in the last week. He'd just been.. busy. Yeah. Busy. He hadn't even called Astrid, and that was bad.

He rezipped his fly, flushed the toilet (not bothering to put the lid back down), and began to hunt the apartment for his cell phone. She would be mad at him for not calling, but if he could convince her to hang out with him.. Well, a pissed off girlfriend was better than spending the night alone.

Astrid wasn't exactly the type to get too pissed about the lack of phone calls -- she understood being busy with other things, and hey - as long as he wasn't putting his dick where it didn't belong, what business of it was hers? In any event, she was a little miffed she had not heard from him - even tried to phone him a few times, but no answer. Hmn.

'He's probably out already,' she thought, casting a forlorn gaze to her little mobile, sitting on her desk near her elbow. Chest rose and fell, a gusty sigh uttered, and she stood up only to vacantly stare about the room.

This was lame. And ridiculous. At this rate, she had one of two options: go to sleep right now, or try to get fucked-up on her own.

'Yeah, right!' Not gonna happen. She reached for her phone.

He completely dreaded calling her only to a) get her voicemail, or b) get a full-on assault. All the same, he scrolled through his contacts and when he came to her number, Dante pressed talk.

Holding his breath, feeling as if it were the first phone call all over again, he began to relax once he heard it ring. Well, not entirely. He owed her an apology, and a reason. Not that he was looking forward to the latter.

The mobile was flipped open, and she was juuust about to go through her own list of contacts when the phone began to vibrate in her hot palm, his ringtone loud and clear. Shit! .. Wait, what was so bad about that? DANTE was flashing across the little screen, and she could barely surpress a grin.

Suddenly giddy: he was calling her! He didn't forget about her! Joy and rapture! But before she could pick up, she paused to calm herself, clear her throat. And then she hit 'Accept.'

"Hello?" There came that husky voice, smooth as melted butter, yet cool. She wasn't angry at him. Unless this was a call to say: a) I cheated on you, b) I'm moving away to Timbucktoo, or c) I never want to see you again. Choices!

"Hey," he said, as cheerily as he could. It seemed to take every ounce of strength in him. What the hell was wrong with him?!

And what to say? He had several choices, but he didn't much like any of them. They all sounded too clichè. None of them were good enough.

Finally he settled on acting normal. If she wasn't too mad and agreed to see him.. Well, he could explain then. Right? ..Right.

"What's up?" Hoping his voice sounded normal, hoping that he sounded normal. Nope, nothing wrong here.

Her own greeting was surprisingly warm; not forced, or terse like she feared it might be. The placidness in her tone instantaneously melted, and gave way to a more gentle inflection. "Hey there. What's goin' on?"

Hand rose to her upper torso: thumb and forefinger moved past the collar of her shirt to grip her collarbone, anxiously. A nervous tic she noticed she had developed. Chipped-black lacquered nails lightly bit into the soft, white skin. Ow. Shit.

Her knees were shaking. She was thrilled. But nervous. And so she allowed her legs to buckle, artfully collapsing onto the shag carpeting of her room. Whew. Much better.

"Nothing much." Cool. Calm. Everything's fine. Don't want to upset her. If at all possible. He inhaled and exhaled, automatically reaching for his cigarettes. He lit one, took a drag, and immediately felt better. He didn't look around the apartment. It was a mess.

"What are you up to tonight?" The cigarette stuck out of his mouth and he moved about the apartment, picking up dirty dishes, trash, empty beer bottles, and dirty clothing. He was going to have to vacuum if she was coming over. And get some incense burning.

Smelled like something had died in here.

He didn't sound like he was about to drop a bombshell on her or anything. She felt her body soften: muscles relax and her breathing shallow. "Tonight? Not much ..." What a loser, eh? Long fingers still followed the curve of her clavicle, but now with less urgency.

"I got off of work a little while ago .. but I haven't heard from anyone, so I was just thinking of .. you know, staying in." God, she sounded ridiculous! Pearly whites sank into the soft pillow of her bottom lip, feeling the silver spiral in her labret clatter softly against her teeth.

"How about you?" Adding lamely.

He let out a breath that felt as if he'd been holding it since he made the phone call. Maybe he had.

"Nothing." He paused, deciding. It took two seconds. "Would you like to do nothing together?" There was plenty of booze in the fridge. He could get a bottle of champagne to open once the ball dropped. And aside from the living room (he'd been sleeping on the couch) and the kitchen (he'd been eating in there), the rest of the apartment was in top condition.

And it was an excuse to have her spend the night. That, he thought, would be the ultimate high.

And he could pretend everything was okay. It was, to a certain extent.

That illicited a chuckle from her; the hand futzing with the collarbone withdrew, and settled in her lap. "Nothing together, huh?" Like she even had to think about it. Still, she playfully hemmed and hawed, just to get a rise out of him. A glance to the clock - 10.30. Not bad.

"Hmn. Well, I suppose that could be arranged. See you at your place in twenty?" Climbing to her feet. If she was going over there, she'd have to change! Didn't want to show up in her pajamas -- those she could bring, because like it or not, she was sleeping there. Driving while intoxicated was a bozo no-no for her.

"Twenty? You mean I've gotta wait twenty whole minutes to see you?" He surveyed the apartment. Not bad. He'd have to vacuum really quick, then jump in the show and shave. And what to wear? He also needed to get that champagne.

The dirty clothes were dumped into the hamper and he began to search for something clean to wear, cradling the phone between his shoulder and ear. Not an easy task, considering it was a tiny ass phone.

His spirits rose a great degree at the thought of seeing her. There was no use in feeling sorry for himself. He had nothing to feel sorry about. And besides, it was New Year's Eve.

"Well, maybe thirty. Could be forty. You never know, with traffic ..." She was being silly. A bag was withdrawn from her closet and set on her bed: one hand holding the phone to her ear, the other shuffling through her clothes to pick out something to wear TO his place, and tomorrow. Ridiculous? Perhaps.

Still .. "I'll get there when I get there, and not a second too soon. Alright? See you in a bit." Big grin twisted her features; and just to add to the tension, she hung up before he could reply or protest, whichever. Besides, she had to change! A shower wasn't needed since she had just gotten out of one. But Astrid was kicking it into high gear!

Fifteen some-odd minutes later, she was in her car and on the road; fortunately, she had a very good memory and followed the route to his place, as if it was habit. Shit .. had to be careful about that.

He had just gotten out of the shower and was drying off when he remembered the champagne. "Shit," he muttered, then smiled, remembering how she had playfully hung up on him. He was going to have to get her for that.

As he pulled on his clothes, he realized how silly he was being. Champagne? Since when had he bought champagne for a girl? He didn't even drink the stuff. It was ridiculous, really, but all the same.. He liked the feeling.

"Let's just hope it lasts," he said aloud, grabbing his jacket and heading out. Thankfully the nearest Stop &Shop was only a few minutes away. And it would at least give him something to do while waiting.

It took ten more minutes (thankfully the lines weren't long at all), and then he was back at his apartment. She would be there soon. And--

And he had forgot to vacuum. In a frenzy that would have been comical if it hadn't been him, Dante pulled his light vacuum out of a closet and began to give the place a quick cleanup.

God, don't let anything happen to her. People were already out and being stupid. Over the roar of the vacuum he could hear his heart beating against his chest.

Fortunately, Astrid was a force to be reckoned with on the road! And lucky for him, she made a pit stop at a nearby gas station to get herself some ciggies -- it was going to be a long, albeit pleasant night.

And while poor Dante was upstairs frantically vacuuming, she parked the car in a guest spot, and grabbed her keys and bag, getting out and locking up. Inhaling deeply, hugging her jacket tight around her. No turning back now! Not like she wanted to.

New black lo-top Cons tapped gently on the concrete as she stepped lightly to the door, opening it and turning to the panel of names of the residents. Scanning for his name -- aha! The button was located, pressed.

He heard the buzz even over the loud hum over the vacuum cleaner, and it made him jump. "Asshole." He unplugged the vacuum, stowed it in its proper place, and grabbed his jacket. He slid his feet into his shoes -- beat up Vans -- and headed down to meet her.

And there she was, beautiful as usual. He took her into his arms, kissing her neck over and over. "Hello gorgeous," he said into the smooth skin, holding her close to him. He didn't want to have to let go again.

It was funny sometimes, how much of a little boy he still was.

Oh, but his childishness was horribly endearing - she felt the grin take over her face the moment he appeared. "Hey!" She all but jumped into his arms with a girlish giggle - head tilted back as he kissed her neck. Arms wrapped around his neck; reaching up and pressing a kiss directly on his mouth.

"Mmph." Purring as she pulled away slightly, cuddling herself into his chest. Goodness, he was nice and warm; almond eyes slid closed for a few beats as the top of her head nuzzled his chin. She was dressed in clean, light blue jeans with a slight tear at the knee, and under her jacket was a new, children's sized Pantera shirt. That purple hair back in a ponytail, pink bangs obscuring one eye. Snazzy.

And she beamed up to him happily; thankful that he called, thankful to be here. "What's up?"

He took her by the hand, leading her up the stairs and to his place. "I've got some champagne, though I have no way of telling if it's good or not. I don't drink the stuff," he admitted sheepishly.

The door was unlocked; all he had to do was push it open. The apartment smelled clean and looked good. Tv was on, a commercial advertising ringtones played. The place looked even better with her standing in it.

"Sorry it took me so long to call." He shrugged out of his jacket -- a heavy black blazer -- to reveal a black button down and collared shirt, left open at the throat. He was also wearing his own ripped jeans.

Shoes were kicked off and he moved to the fridge, rummaging around inside. "Want a drink?"

There would be time enough to talk -- later. Right now he just wanted to get as close to her as possible.

With her bag in tow, she followed him up the stairs, clutching his hand tightly. When they were at the top of the staircase, she turned to him slightly. "I wouldn't know either. It's okay." A smile flashed, comforting squeeze, and stepped inside his place.

Shoes were wedged off easily; the bag was set down and coat was taken off. "Yeah, sounds good. Hey, where should I put these?" These being the bag and the coat. She took a few steps forward to peer at his back. Damn .. he looked good tonight. Not like he wasn't pounceable any other day, but still ..

Control.

He abandoned the fridge and went back to her, kissing her lightly on the lips as he took the coat and bag from her. They were set on his bed (he took another quick glance around his room, making absolute sure it was neat) and then he returned to her.

"Man, I've missed you." He took her hands in his. "Now, how about that drink?"

Astrid amused herself by furtively glancing at the television which was back to Times Square. Nice. Looking at the time for their standard time zone: 11.03. Good.

When Dante returned, she glanced up to him, smiling softly as he took her hands. "I missed you, too .." Trailing off -- good timing, she was starting to get all mushy and soft-eyed. "Sounds good." A little tug. "What'cha got to drink?

Running a hand through his longish hair, Dante held open the fridge door for her to see. "Bud. Stohli's. Champagne, but that's for later. A couple Mike's Hard left. And if you want, I can make you a Bacardi and Coke."

Choices, choices. He himself was planning on a beer to start with.

Dante turned to look at her, watching her every move, his eyes meeting hers. New Year's Eve, and he was lucky enough to spend it with her.

Beer before liquor, never been sicker! Astrid was a hard-liquor gal herself. Those doe-eyes turned hopefully to him -- "Did you say .. Bacardi?" A weakness of hers. Hey, the girl loved rum!

"I want that. But I can make it, you don't have to." A surreptitious gaze at him: Goodness, he was gorgeous. Lips pursed (she'd taken the labret ring out for the night; no worries about it closing), tongue sneaking past to wet them.

She turned to look around the kitchen. "Where are the glasses?" .. She had a lot to learn still!

He swallowed hard. It wasn't easy watching her lick those lips. Weakly he pointed to a cabinet to the right of the sink. "Up there," he said, still watching her. He noted the absence of the labret.

He grabbed himself a Bud and the bottles of Bacardi and Coke, setting the last two on the counter. Using said counter, he popped the cap off the bottle and raised it to his lips. The liquid went smoothly down his throat. One beer wasn't going to do a damned thing to him, but he sure loved the taste. And once this bottle was done, there was the Stohli's to get started with. Straight vodka was his thing.

He watched her move, paying special attention to the curves of her body. Eyes shut briefly, praying silently. He was falling, and he knew it. But that was all right.

At least, right now.

A nod to confirm the location, her eyes following his finger. Noncommital grunt, looking back at him over a birdthin shoulder. "You okay, Dante?" Head snapped back to attention to focus on the task at hand. A glass was found, seized and brought, the cabinet door shutting.

She rejoined him at his side, peering up at him demurely from under the cottoncandy pink fringe, a slight grin curling her lips as she set to work making herself a rum and coke. "You look a bit flushed."

Was she serious, or was she just teasing him? Who could tell with her, though it was probably a combination of both.

"Thanks," he said, poking her in the ribs. "Good to know." He grinned down at her, then kissed her forehead and took her hand.

The time was nearing 11:30 now. Perfect, he thought to himself, leading her to the couch. He sat down, took another swig from his bottle, then set it down on the coffee table. He turned to her, eyes sparkling with a life he hadn't felt in over a week. Cold feet? Yeah, that was probably what it had been.

There was no need to get depressed over falling for someone. And perhaps it wasn't that far yet. No. He just liked her. A lot.