Apparently, I was mistaken.
“Zoe?” Phoebe says from my side, totally oblivious to the hostilities being exchanged two feet from her. “That’s your name? Zoe?”
I don’t answer. I’m too busy glaring at her boyfriend.
“Ahem!” The girl with long strawberry-blonde hair clears her throat. Loudly. “Phee, you ever planning to introduce us, or…?”
“Sorry, sorry! This is Tinkerbell!” Phoebe announces, grinning like a madwoman. “I mean, Zoe. And, Zoe, this is…” With a sweep of her hand, she points at the girls in the group, from the redhead, “…Lila,” to the willowy brunette “…Shelby,” to the platinum pixie “…Chrissy,” to the girl who looks like her sister. “…and Gemma.”
I give a half-hearted wave. They all wave back. In unison.
It would be creepy, if it weren’t so cute.
“She is tiny,” Gemma says, grinning.
“And you weren’t lying — great hair,” Lila adds.
“She’s the hacker chick?” Chrissy’s nose scrunches. “I was expecting goth and grunge, not jeans and a cowl-neck sweater.”
I roll my eyes. “Sorry to disappoint.”
“Oh, don’t mind Chrissy.” Shelby laughs. “She’s hormonal and sleep-deprived. Two babies in one house does that to a person.”
Chrissy elbows Shelby in the ribs.
Gemma shakes her head at both of them.
Lila glances at her phone and taps out a quick text message.
Phoebe huffs. “Nice, guys. Real nice. You decide to act like total screwballs the one time I have to introduce you to someone I’m trying my damnedest to keep from bolting.”
“They’re always screwballs,” Lila murmurs, briefly looking up from her phone. “I’m the only sane one of the bunch.”
Gemma, Phoebe, Shelby, and Chrissy all trade glances… and simultaneously burst out into uproarious laughter.
“Oh my god,” Phoebe brushes a tear from the corner of her eye. “She’s serious, isn’t she?”
Gemma’s holding her stomach, trying to catch her breath. “It’s cute.”
Chrissy and Shelby are chuckling too hard to say anything.
Lila glares at her friends. “I’ll have you know, I’m the only one here who hasn’t been involved in some kind of car chase, kidnapped and held for ransom, threatened at gunpoint, or run for my life in stilettos.”
They all go silent for a second, adopting serious expressions as they contemplate her words…
“Give it time,” Gemma says, shrugging. “Keep hanging with us, I’m sure you’ll be kidnapped eventually.”
That sets them all off again, cackling like hyenas. Lila scowls silently.
Is this what it’s like to have friends? A whole group of people who know all your shit, even the dark, scary shit, and can still somehow laugh with you about it?
I’m feeling about as awkward as a horse at a glue factory, so I start to edge backward, trying not to draw any attention. They’re so busy laughing, they don’t seem to notice I’m about to vanish into the crowd. I take another step, relief flooding my system, and suddenly my back hits something solid. It feels like stone. For a minute, I think I’ve backed straight into a wall…
Until the wall moves and I hear a deep male voice close to my ear.
“Going somewhere?”
Damn Knox and his fucking spidey-senses.
My spine straightens. “No.”
“Good. You disappearing would upset Phoebe. And I don’t like her upset.”
I bite my tongue to keep from snapping at him. Macho-man antics have never been my style, and this guy takes the freaking cake when it comes to bossy, alpha-male shenanigans.
He steps back — far enough that he’s no longer pressed up against me, but close enough that I know I can’t slip away into the crowd without him running interference. A few seconds later, Phoebe’s eyes lock back on mine and my escape window slips away.
“Zoe! You’re coming to my Christmas party tomorrow night. No excuses.”
My hands clench. “Sorry, I have plans.”
I have a full evening scheduled — Netflix in my pajamas, binge-watching the new season of House of Cards and eating too many peanut-butter cups to count.
“You do not,” she counters, crossing her arms over her chest. “And it wasn’t a request, Tink — sorry, Zoe. You’re coming. Parker made me invite almost half the WestTech staff and we need some normal people in the mix, to break up the awkward work-bonding.”
I go still at the mention of Parker’s name. It’s clear they don’t know about my connection to him; that will certainly change, if I go to Phoebe’s party.
“I really can’t.”
“Uh huh. Why’s that?” she asks.
I hesitate, contemplate lying, and finally decide to just go with the truth. “I don’t do Christmas.”
“Are you Jewish?”
“No.”
“Buddhist?”
“No.”
“Wiccan?”
“Please don’t go through every religion.” I sigh. “Like everyone in Boston, I’m a lapsed Catholic.”
“A lapsed Catholic who doesn’t do Christmas?”
“What about this are you having trouble understanding?”
She stares at me incredulously. “Everyone does Christmas.”
“Not me.”