This year was going to end, and it was going to end with a kiss, and it was going to fix everything that had gone wrong.
Charlie was, at heart, an optimist, so while he was still struggling to deal with his injury and rehabilitation, it was nice to be out with his friends. Penny looked beautiful and he planned to enjoy the night as it was a rather important occasion for them, and he'd got to spend time with his teammates, who had had a bit of a rough year in their own rights.
He stood, nursing his drink as he watched the orchestra. It wasn't that Charlie really enjoyed this sort of music, but his slightly drunken and tired state had him entranced with how quickly the fingers of the musicians moved. Octavius really knew what he was doing, because if he could get
Charlie of all people to sit through this classical performance, then he could get anyone to do anything. The thought of his friend captured Charlie's attention and he began to look around for Octavius, so it took a couple of pokes and prods to break his concentration.
"
What," he said, the ringing of the bells in his ears causing his short-lived irritation to disappear. Charlie felt like he was seeing stars, and before he could see the culprit who had tapped him on the shoulder (rather
hard, thanks), he was being kissed.
Kissed. He knew he'd get a kiss or two tonight.
Her dress was a bit fluffier than he'd remembered it being, but maybe he hadn't gotten a good look at with his
mask on. Her lips tasted different too, but amazing nonetheless. Charlie wrapped his arms around his snogging partner, wondering how he could've wasted any time watching the orchestra or tossing exploding gobstones into the drinks of the Falcons players when he could've been snogging her.
Her, the most irresistible woman on the planet, the woman he'd never get enough of, the woman whose name escaped him.
He was certain this was not his girlfriend, Penelope. The certainty did not force the kiss to cease, however, and Charlie kept a strong hold on the woman, unwilling to part from her.
