Ryan was born and raised in California, and he shied away from the cold as one would keep their distance from mountain lions. Cold weather joined large crowds, loud noises, and mass celebrations on his personal list of pet peeves, and the Times Square New Year’s Eve ball drop happened to embody each and every one of those things. It didn’t surprise anyone that Ryan preferred staying in on New Year’s Eve, and 2014 wasn’t going to be any different – he went as far as denying a work opportunity to covering a local New Years celebration for CNN – but then Sylvia was brought into the equation. They didn’t rely on the traditional forms of showing affection, for the lack of knowing how to, so making exceptions was his way of expressing his fondness for her.
Sylvia had wedged herself in the far corner of the balcony, leaning dangerously over the railing to watch over the New Year festivities. He secured her to the balcony with an arm wrapped around her waist – a rare display of physical affection that neither of them minded – and let the rabid New Year enthusiasts bore him into looking over his shoulder to catch a glimpse at Anderson Cooper broadcasting live a little ways away from where their hotel was located. It wasn’t the ball drop she was looking at, but the people below and honestly… she didn't need to dig into her life savings to pay for a hotel right in the middle of Times Square to do that, but that was none of his business.
As the ball finally began to descend, he grabbed Sylvia’s arm with a gloved hand and gently tugged her away from the balcony. “You’ll see better from where we’re going,” was all he told her as he grabbed a scarf off of the coat hook, wrapped it around her neck, and then shuffled her out of their room. By the time the elevator had made it to ground floor, New York City was seconds away from transitioning into the new year; even from the core of the hotel, he could hear the crowds chanting. The metal doors opened and a flock of people stuffed themselves into the elevator as Ryan pulled Sylvia closer to the lobby.
“Hurry up, Darcy,” he whispered urgently to her, even though he wouldn’t have been audible if he shouted at the top of his lungs. Sylvia didn’t like being told what to do or where to go and she resisted him as much as possible – going as far as to claim her heels would break if she moved any faster than a snails pace – and the last thing he needed that year was for her to be difficult with him. Ryan dug his knuckles into the small of her back to annoy her and when she jumped, about to whirl around and sock him in the jaw, he grabbed her by the waist and guided her to the exit from behind. “Let’s go, go, go.”
They spilled out onto the street where Sylvia had the optimum view of the masses and an obstructed view of the ball drop.
While everybody was watching the ball drop, Sylvia was watching everybody, and Ryan was watching Sylvia. The moment the crowd exploded in cheers, signifying the end of 2014 and the beginning of a new year, her eyes lit up with an indescribable passion for something only she could comprehend. Their blue hue reflected the colors of the lights illuminating Times Square and they flickered over to him, her cherry red lips parted as though she were about to include him in whatever she was excited about; for a moment, he actually thought she was going to tell him what was going on in that complex mind of hers. Of course, that didn’t happen. Instead, she realized that he had caught her in a rare moment of complete bliss – or as she saw it, vulnerability. Sylvia grabbed his forearm to complain about something in an effort to distract him, but for once he was one step ahead of her.
Cameras broadcasting CNN’s New Year’s special hovered near them, eager for media coverage on an impromptu appearance from one of their reporters, and neither he or Sylvia couldn't care less as they shared a New Year's kiss.
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