A Happy New Year

New Year's Eve lights Allie up like a cheap sparkler, and tonight she's got zero interest in anyone dimming her shine. Serena and Sasha show up at the parent's place because they're down for the ride—even if the holiday leaves them cold, watching Allie's buzz turns the temperature. Enthusiasm, though, can be slippery on freshly waxed stairs. Allie's flying toward the door, foot meets misstep, and the ankle rolls like it just drew the short straw. Up goes the spasm; down goes the evening plan. Sasha, not one to resist the spotlight, swears her massage could restart a dead engine. Allie rolls her eyes, but her ankle has other opinions. Warm hands kneed, palm over calf, knuckles tracing every taut strip of muscle until the twitch quiets and something else starts humming instead. Clothes peel off in lazy folds. Tongues replace talking. Slick heat meets slick heat, and the three women forget the clock while their mouths and fingers write fresh invitations they keep answering. If the old saying holds—do it at midnight and you do it all year—the clock's already broken and none of them look interested in fixing it.