THE RESET: A New Year's Eve Story PART 4 - THE FINAL HOUR
With midnight closing in, the pressure mounts and choices start to feel unavoidable.
At eleven pm, the energy shifted.
The DJ lowered the music just enough to make an announcement. "One hour until midnight, Sundrift! Time to start thinking about your intentions for the new year!"
The crowd cheered. Someone popped a bottle of champagne. The sound echoed across the pool area like a starting gun.
Marcus felt his stomach drop.
One hour.
Around them, guests were getting louder. More animated. A group near the bar had started chanting something he couldn't quite make out. The dance floor was a writhing mass of bodies, some clothed, most not.
"I need another drink," he said.
"You've had three," Becca said.
"I'm aware."
"Liquid courage isn't going to help."
"It's not hurting."
She didn't argue. Mostly because she was thinking the same thing.
They made their way to the bar. Waited in line behind a naked couple ordering shots. The bartender worked with practiced efficiency, mixing drinks, pouring wine, keeping the party fueled.
When they finally reached the front, Marcus ordered a whiskey. Becca got vodka. Both doubles.
The bartender grinned. "Big finish to the year?"
"Something like that," Marcus said.
"You folks doing the midnight run?"
"We'll see."
"You should. It's incredible. Life-changing, honestly." He slid their drinks across the bar. "Trust me. You won't regret it."
He moved on to the next customer before they could respond.
Marcus and Becca stood there, drinks in hand, watching the party accelerate around them.
"Life-changing," Becca repeated.
"He's drunk."
"Probably."
"Or he's in on it. Some kind of nudist cult initiation."
She laughed despite herself. "You think this is a cult?"
"I don't know what this is."
"It's a party, Marcus. A weird party, but still just a party."
"Is it though?"
She didn't have an answer.
They found the others back at the food table. Claire was on margarita number four. Jamal looked resigned to his fate. Diego was vibrating with nervous energy. Aisha was calm, observing everything with the detached interest of someone conducting a sociological study.
"Fifty-eight minutes," Diego said.
"Stop counting," Claire said, her words slightly slurred.
"I can't stop counting. That's all there is to do. Count down to the moment when everyone loses their minds."
"They're not losing their minds. They're just... expressing themselves."
"By getting naked and running into the ocean?"
"Yes."
"That's insane."
"Is it?" She took a sip of her margarita. "Maybe we're the insane ones. Standing here in our clothes. Judging everyone. When they're just... free."
Everyone stared at her.
"How strong did the bartender make those margaritas?" Jamal asked.
"Very."
"Maybe you should slow down."
"Maybe you should loosen up."
"Claire..."
"I'm just saying. We've been standing here for two hours acting like this is torture. But look at them." She gestured at the crowd. "They're happy. Actually happy. When's the last time any of us looked that relaxed?"
Silence.
Because she had a point.
The people around them weren't just partying. They were present. Unguarded. Moving through the space with an ease that felt foreign. No one was checking their phone. No one was worried about how they looked. They just... existed.
"It's easy to be relaxed when you have nothing to hide," Marcus said.
"Do we?" Aisha asked quietly.
"Do we what?"
"Have nothing to hide?"
Another uncomfortable silence.
"I hide everything," Becca said suddenly. "At work. At home. Everywhere. I'm always performing. Always trying to be the smartest person in the room. The most prepared. The most competent."
"That's called professionalism," Marcus said.
"No. That's called exhausting." She took a long drink. "I can't remember the last time I just... was. Without calculating every move."
"That's sales," Jamal said. "We're always performing."
"But what if we didn't have to?"
"Then we'd lose."
"Would we?"
The question hung there.
Diego checked his watch. "Fifty-three minutes."
"Jesus Christ, Diego," Marcus snapped.
"What? You want me to pretend time isn't passing?"
"I want you to stop narrating our descent into chaos."
"Too late. We're already in chaos. I'm just documenting it."
A woman walked past them. Seventy if she was a day. Completely naked. Dancing to the music with her arms raised, face tilted toward the sky. Pure joy.
They all watched her.
"She doesn't care what anyone thinks," Aisha said.
"She's seventy," Diego said. "She's earned the right not to care."
"Have we not earned that right?"
"We're in our thirties and forties. We still have to live in society."
"This is society," Claire said, gesturing at the party. "Just a different version."
"This is not normal society."
"What's normal? Working sixty-hour weeks? Competing with people we're supposed to collaborate with? Pretending we're fine when we're falling apart?"
Becca looked at Claire. Really looked at her. "Are you falling apart?"
Claire laughed. "Aren't we all?"
No one answered.
The DJ's voice cut through again. "Forty-five minutes, Sundrift! How are we feeling?"
The crowd roared.
Marcus felt sick.
At eleven-thirty, things started happening fast.
More people began migrating toward the beach access. Some were already naked. Others were in the process of removing their clothes, casually, like they were getting ready for bed.
A man near the pool took off his shirt, folded it neatly, set it on a chair. Then his shorts. Then his underwear. He grabbed a towel, draped it over his shoulder, and walked toward the beach like he was heading to the gym.
Diego made a strangled sound.
"Don't look," Becca said.
"I can't not look. It's happening everywhere."
He was right. All around them, people were shedding clothes. Not frantically. Not performatively. Just... shedding. Like it was the most natural thing in the world.
"This is really happening," Marcus said.
"Appears so," Jamal said.
"What do we do?"
"We have options."
"Which are?"
"Stay here. Go to our rooms. Or..." He trailed off.
"Or what?"
"Or we stop being cowards and do the thing we've been pretending we're fine with all night."
Marcus stared at him. "You're not seriously suggesting..."
"I'm not suggesting anything. I'm just stating facts. We've been here for hours. We've seen everything there is to see. Either we're traumatized beyond repair, or we're just scared."
"I'm definitely traumatized," Diego said.
"I'm definitely scared," Marcus said.
Becca said nothing. She was watching a couple near the beach. Mid-forties, both naked now, holding hands as they walked toward the water. They looked... normal. Not exhibitionists. Not performing. Just two people doing something they'd done before. Something comfortable.
"What are you thinking?" Aisha asked her.
"I'm thinking I've spent my entire adult life being afraid of being seen. Really seen. Without the armor. Without the performance." She turned to look at Aisha. "And I'm tired."
"Tired enough to do something about it?"
"Maybe."
Marcus overheard them. "Becca."
She looked at him.
"Don't."
"Don't what?"
"Whatever you're thinking about doing. Don't."
"Why not?"
"Because we work together. Because this is insane. Because tomorrow we have to look each other in the eye and pretend this didn't happen."
"And if I don't want to pretend anymore?"
He didn't have an answer.
Claire finished her margarita. Set the glass down with a decisive clink. "I'm doing it."
Everyone turned.
"Doing what?" Diego asked.
"The midnight run. I'm going."
"Claire, you're drunk."
"I'm just drunk enough to be brave. There's a difference."
"You can't be serious."
"Why not? I've spent three hours watching these people have the time of their lives while I stand here judging them. I'm done judging. I'm going to participate."
"You're going to get naked and run into the ocean with a hundred strangers."
"Yes."
"At midnight."
"That's when it's happening, yes."
Jamal put a hand on her shoulder. "Claire. Think about this."
"I have been thinking about it. For three hours. And you know what I realized? I'm fifty-five years old. I've raised three kids. I've survived a divorce. I've built a career in one of the most cutthroat industries there is. And I have never, not once, done something just because it felt right. Without worrying about what people would think." She looked at all of them. "So tonight, I'm doing it. And you can join me or not. That's your choice."
She walked toward the beach.
The five of them stood there, stunned.
"Did that just happen?" Diego asked.
"Yep," Aisha said.
"What do we do?"
"We let her go," Marcus said. "She's an adult. She can make her own terrible decisions."
"Should someone go with her?" Diego asked.
"Why?" Becca said. "She's not in danger. She's just... doing something we're all too scared to do."
That landed.
The DJ's voice boomed again. "Twenty minutes, Sundrift! Head down to the beach! Let's make this midnight count!"
Music shifted. Something ceremonial. Building. The crowd began moving in earnest now. A river of people flowing toward the sand.
Marcus, Becca, Jamal, Diego, and Aisha stood at the edge of it.
Watching.
Waiting.
Deciding.
At eleven-fifty, the beach was packed.
Hundreds of people lined the shore. Some standing in the shallow water. Some sitting on the sand. Some dancing to the music that poured from speakers set up along the beach access.
And most of them were naked.
The five of them had migrated to the edge of the crowd. Still clothed. Still together. Still unsure.
"I don't see Claire," Diego said, scanning the beach.
"She's here somewhere," Jamal said.
"How do you know?"
"Because Claire doesn't quit. If she said she's doing this, she's doing it."
Becca spotted her first. Near the water. Wearing only a towel around her waist. Talking to another woman. Laughing.
"Oh my god," Becca breathed.
The others followed her gaze.
"Is that..." Marcus trailed off.
"Yep," Aisha said.
"She actually did it."
"Told you."
As they watched, Claire dropped the towel. Handed it to someone on the sand. Walked into the water up to her knees.
She looked back toward the shore. Searching for them.
When she found them, she waved.
Not a hesitant wave. A confident, joyful, come-join-me wave.
"She wants us to go in," Diego said.
"I know," Marcus said.
"Are we going?"
"I don't know."
The DJ's voice: "Five minutes, everyone! Find your spot! Get ready!"
The energy on the beach intensified. People cheering. Counting down. Moving into position.
Becca turned to Marcus. "If we don't do this, we're going to regret it."
"If we do this, we're going to regret it."
"So we're damned either way."
"Exactly."
She smiled. Not a competitor's smile. A real one. "Then we might as well be damned for doing something instead of nothing."
Before he could respond, she started unbuttoning her jumpsuit.
Marcus's eyes went wide. "What are you doing?"
"What does it look like?"
"You can't be serious."
"You said you went to a nude beach in Croatia."
"I lied."
"I know. So did I. So let's stop lying."
She slipped out of the jumpsuit. Stood there in her underwear. Then, before she could overthink it, removed those too.
For a second, she froze. Exposed. Vulnerable. Every instinct screaming at her to cover up.
Then she looked at Marcus. "Your turn."
"Becca..."
"Don't make me do this alone."
He stared at her. At the beach. At Claire in the water. At the hundreds of people surrounding them, all doing the same insane thing.
Then he started unbuttoning his shirt.
"Oh my god," Diego whispered.
Jamal looked at Aisha. "Are we really doing this?"
"I think we are," she said.
And she started pulling off her dress.
END OF PART 4
