The light was dim, a dull, ominous crimson, as if the entire space had been steeped in a cheap cherry-flavored syrup. Everyone wore a mask—exquisite, bizarre, or simply unimaginative plastic sheets—that complemented their dark suits, sparkling gowns, and what looked like very expensive jewelry. I hated it here.

"You really need another drink, buddy. Loosen up, don't be so stiff, like a principal's ruler," Sam's voice buzzed in my ear as a glass of champagne was thrust in front of me. Judging by his goofy grin and the feat of spilling wine on a lady's expensive skirt moments ago, he'd be better off staying away from any alcohol.

"I'm going to hit you with that ruler," I muttered, glaring at him. Damn it, was I the only one feeling hot? I irritably reached up to adjust the mask on my face. It was a plain black mask, but I had spent a solid two hours painstakingly decorating it with black and yellow rhinestones to resemble the Batman logo.

Unfortunately, it seemed no one here got my reference. They would scream when they saw Peter Parker take off his mask, but knew nothing of Bruce Wayne's artistic taste. Alas, a bunch of uninteresting souls.

"Relax…" Sam whispered in my ear again, as if it would add wisdom to his words. I rolled my eyes at him, too lazy to argue.

"Don't think whispering makes you sound any smarter," I said, snatching the champagne from his hand and turning away. I navigated through the crowded room, taking a sip as I went. The bubbles burst on my tongue with a taste of false celebration, just like the party itself.

This was the annual New Year's party hosted by my company, Apex Industries. A grand, pretentious social performance, inviting celebrities, influencers, and ordinary employees like me who were selected based on their annual KPIs and lucky enough to get an "invitation." The purpose of the party was to make everyone "happy," providing free food and endless alcohol. But in reality, it was more like a silent competition—who had the sharper suit, the nobler mask, who could chat with the vice president for more than three minutes.

I had been here twice, and each time felt like reliving a bad movie sequel. Same people, same food. I really shouldn't always eat those fancy things I can't even pronounce. God, give me a double cheeseburger and a large bag of fries, that would be true paradise.

I took another sip of champagne and sighed heavily. Enough.

I squeezed through the cloying crowd and pushed open the heavy wooden door leading outside. The cold air instantly enveloped me, and I shivered, silently cursing myself for forgetting my coat. But at least I could breathe.

I walked around the enormous house. Luckily, there was a forgotten stone bench behind it. I could clearly hear the music from inside, muffled by the walls, like the heartbeat of a sleeping giant.

I really wasn't in the mood.

I kicked a pebble at my feet and gently placed the wine glass on the ground. I looked up, staring at the sky. No stars, just a dirty orange glow from the city lights. An hour until the New Year, and I felt trapped in a crack in time.

I could have been at home watching my Supernatural. Chuck, that old bastard, was really getting on my nerves. I had just taken out my phone, about to open the CW app to re-watch some of Dean's glorious moments, when I suddenly felt a presence beside me.

I looked up at the stranger who had appeared out of nowhere and froze. It was a man. A tall man, dressed in a perfectly tailored dark tuxedo and a dark shirt, his leather shoes polished to a shine, the watch on his wrist glinting heavily in the faint light. His disguise was simple: a head of beautiful auburn hair slicked back, revealing a full forehead and a sharp jawline, with a simple black mask covering the upper half of his face.

"You look a bit like Zorro," the alcohol gave me courage, and the words just slipped out.

The man said nothing, just turned his body slightly towards me, a gesture like a silent question. What question? God knows.

"You know, the superhero? All in black, wears a black mask like yours, and a cape," I pointed at him. "But you don't have a cape."

He was still silent. I wanted to stick my tongue out at him. Why so serious? I averted my gaze from Mr. Zorro and looked back at the sky. Maybe I shouldn't have finished that champagne. I was feeling a bit dizzy.

"I could get a cape, if you'd like."

A voice suddenly sounded, startling me so much I nearly slid off the bench. The voice wasn't deep, but it was low, like melted honey mixed with whiskey, sweet and mellow, vibrating right in my eardrums.

"So you can talk," I said, looking back at "Zorro."

He didn't speak again, just gave a slight nod. I rolled my eyes at him and patted the empty space beside me. Seeing him not moving, I narrowed my eyes.

"Don't make me count to ten!" I said in the sternest voice I could manage.

"Or what will you do?" There was a hint of amusement in his voice.

"I might throw up on your expensive clothes and shoes."

He finally laughed, a low, chest-resonating laugh that made his whole body tremble. I didn't even realize I was smiling along until my cheeks started to hurt. After the laughter subsided, I saw his eyes, hidden under the mask, widen slightly, as if in disbelief that he had just laughed.

"Six," I called out, feeling as though I could see him frown.

"Don't you start from one or zero?"

"Seven," I continued, and before I could shout eight, he walked over to the bench. But he didn't sit down immediately. Instead, he took off his tuxedo jacket and draped it over my shoulders, even carefully fastening the top button for me. The cashmere lining was warm and soft, carrying a faint, pleasant woody scent.

"Thanks," I said softly.

"Why are you sitting out here freezing alone?" he finally asked, sitting down beside me.

"Because I'm sweating on the inside," I spouted nonsense. "What about you?"

"I'm looking for someone. He owes me something, and he's hiding in the crowd inside," he said calmly.

"What does he owe you? Your dignity?"

"No."

"Money?"

"More than money."

"Is it important to you?" I asked.

He fell silent. I turned my face away, not pressing further. My head felt heavy, and I just wanted to lie down. So, I slid off the bench and lay down on the cold but solid grass.

"Are you crazy? It's filthy," his voice came from above.

"It'll wash off," I said nonchalantly. After a moment of silence, I heard soft footsteps, and the next moment, he was lying beside me.

"Isn't this great?" I asked.

"What is?"

I raised my hand towards the polluted sky, making a grasping motion. My gaze shifted from the sky to my hand. It had been a long time since I'd done this. Reaching for the sky, pretending to be able to grab something.

"If that thing is really important…" I turned to look at him, only to realize how close we were. So close I could clearly see his eyes under the mask, green and beautiful, like a lake in a forest after the rain. My nose was almost touching his.

I flinched back. "Your eyes."

"Are we ever going to finish a sentence?" he asked, a tone of helpless amusement in his voice.

"Alright, no more about my yogurt."

"What yogurt?" He looked even more confused.

"One time at work, someone stole my yogurt from the fridge, and it turned out to be Mary from accounting. Can you believe it? She didn't even finish it! She threw the rest in the trash, and then had the nerve to call me to fix her computer?! Did she think I couldn't see the yogurt in the trash can… (a thousand words omitted)…" I rambled on, finishing my "yogurt revenge plan."

After I finished, he just looked at me quietly and then said, "You're a lunatic."

"I'll take that as a compliment," I said with a wink.

"I believe you take everything as a compliment," he said.

I reached out and pinched his cheek, giggling. His hand suddenly covered mine, and I gasped. It felt like an electric current shot through my body, a tingling sensation. The spot he touched felt scorching hot.

What was happening?

I quickly withdrew my hand, my heart pounding like a drum. I fell back onto the ground, looking up at the sky again, trying to calm my breathing. "What time is it?" I asked, to break the awkward silence.

"How would I know?"

"Isn't that rock on your wrist a watch?" I nudged him with my elbow. Before he could answer, the people inside began to shout in unison.

"Ten…"

"The new year is going to be great," he said suddenly.

"Nine."

"How do you know?" I asked.

"Eight."

"I can feel it in my toes," I said, wiggling my toes, which were hidden inside my socks and shoes.

"Seven."

"You're a lunatic."

"Six."

"You've already said that once," I reminded him.

"Five."

"Hey, lunatic…" he called me.

"Four."

"Yes, Mr. Zorro?"

"Three."

Just as the crowd shouted "Two," I rolled over, cupped his face with my left hand, closed the distance between us, and pressed my lips against his. At first, it was soft and a little hesitant, his lips softer than I had imagined.

The kiss ended, and I was about to roll back to my original spot when he grabbed my hand, pulled me back towards him, and kissed me again. This kiss was completely different—fierce, urgent, with a burning heat. He parted my teeth, his tongue exploring every inch of my mouth, greedily taking everything I could give.

I moaned softly, arching my body to meet his. He rolled over, pressing me underneath him, his legs trapping mine. His hand slid under my jacket, and I could feel the searing heat of his palm through my shirt. My hands ran through his hair, tugging gently, as we kissed wildly until we were both breathless.

I broke away, my lips slightly parted, letting out a soft moan. His kisses trailed down my neck, sucking hard on the spot just above my jacket collar, leaving a tingling mark.

"Sir…"

A strange voice suddenly sounded, and I froze instantly. I snapped my eyes open, trying to push the man off me. He just lifted his head and said coldly in the direction of the voice, "I'll be there in a moment."

The person who had spoken retreated silently, leaving just him and me. He was still on top of me, looking down. I was panting, and so was he. Right above his head, right above us, brilliant fireworks exploded in the night sky. The sky was lit up by colorful bursts of light. I could see the fireworks, and I could see his green eyes, shining in their light.

"Happy New Year, lunatic," he whispered, a smile playing on his lips.

"Happy New Year, Zorro," I whispered back.

He stood up and offered me his hand. I shyly placed my hand in his, and he pulled me up.

"I have to go," he said.

"I know."

I wanted to kiss him again. But I couldn't. I didn't even know who this man was. My mind was a mess.

He took a step closer, as if to kiss me again. He took another step, then stopped. I didn't get that kiss. He just gave me a deep look, then turned and walked away into the shadows without a word.

I raised my hand to my lips, my fingers gently brushing over them. They felt a little swollen, and the spot on my neck where he had kissed me throbbed.

That was the only thing I got on New Year's Eve. A kiss, and a nameless stranger I would never forget.

Daddy's Pretty Boy — Chapter 9: A Friend's Red Line

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