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She smiles wryly, then slurring she says, “Not sure I care.”
Her words bother me, but she is in no place to talk, and besides, she is already finding her way to the dance floor. The group of us follows her, laughing until she starts dancing with some guy none of us know.
“Should she be…” I say to Kensie.
Kensie shrugs. “It’s her night, isn’t it? This is better than strippers.”
“Yeah,” Tillie says. “But you can’t kiss strippers — and, um…” We turn toward Sophia and the stranger. “She is.”
They’re kissing and groping and about twelve seconds away from a dance floor dry hump nobody wants to see.
“Crap.” I move toward my oldest friend. “Sophia,” I say, wrapping my arm around her shoulder, not wanting her to regret anything tomorrow. “Maybe we can go get some fresh air?”
“I don’t want fresh air,” she hisses. “I want this, right here.” She turns back to the man who is twice her age and not exactly a hunk of burning love. Maybe shots were a terrible idea. No, I take that back. Since Sophia is back to kissing this guy, I am certain it was a bad idea. Nothing good can come from a night like this.
“James isn’t going to—”
Sophia pulls away from the guy, wobbling in her stilettos. “Don’t tell me about James,” she warbles. “He doesn’t care what I do, or who I do. He doesn’t even love me, Noelle.”
“That isn’t true,” I say, leading her outside, not letting go of her wrist.
“Yes, it is,” she whines. “You don’t know what he’s really like.” She crumbles against the brick wall of the building. “What I’m really like.”
I set my hands on her shoulders, needing her to focus. “That isn’t true. I know you, Soph. I know you love James.”
She shakes her head. “No,” she slurs. “I love that man in there. He was a good kisser.”
“Let’s go home. Take a shower, get some rest.”
She scowls. “No, I want to get drunk.”
“Mission accomplished,” I say, my humor long gone.
“Don’t be like that, Noelle.”
“Like what?”
“A drag.”
I’m in a tiny black dress in the freezing cold with a friend whose words feel like a slap across my cheek. “Don’t, Sophia.”
“What?” she asks, leveling herself on her heels. “Be honest?”
“You can be honest, but don’t be cruel.”
Tears fill her eyes. “You’re too good for me, Noelle. Always have been.”
The door to the bar opens and the man from the dance floor comes out. “There you are,” he says, taking her hand. “Wondered where you went off to.”
She flashes me a smile. “See? You are way better than me. Always will be too.”
The guy leads her inside and I’m left in the cold.
It’s snowing and freezing, and I feel really alone. I don’t want to go back to the party, but I don’t want to go home by myself either.
Instead, I pull out my phone. Brooks said to call if I need a ride, and right now that is exactly what I need.
But not just a ride.
I need Brooks to help get me in bed.BrooksAs I tuck Scout into bed, she asks for another bedtime story. “Okay, but only one more. I already read you three.”
“I want a fairy tale, Papa,” she says, her voice soft and precious. “A story with a princess. One who looks like Noelle.”
I grab one from her shelf. “This princess has black hair and red lips and lives with seven dwarves, will she do?”
“It’s perfect,” Scout says snuggling into her blankets as I read her the fairytale. By the time I finish, she is yawning.
“Time to sleep, sweetie,” I tell her, kissing her cheeks. “I love you.”
“Can Noelle come over for Christmas morning?”
“You’d like that?”
She smiles, curled up in her blankets. “I’d love that.”
I turn off the lights, leaving her to sleep, knowing I’d love that too.
“She go down okay?” Mom asks as I enter the kitchen. She’s washing dishes from dinner.
“Oh, she’s great. Already asleep I bet.”
“And what about you, Brooks?” She sets down the sponge and dries her hands. “Are you great?”
“Got a lot on my mind.” I open the fridge, not hungry, but antsy.
“You should go out tonight,” she suggests. “Your dad is watching the news, I’ll be wrapping some gifts, go enjoy yourself and don’t come home until morning.”
“What would I do?” I shake my head. “You’ve got whiskey here and plenty of desserts.”
“True, but is that what you really want?”
I chuckle. “God, Mom, you’re really pushing me to get out of the house, aren’t you?”
“I just don’t want you to have any regrets.”
“I’ll think about it, thanks for the offer.”
I grab a cookie that Noelle left us, and head to the living room, taking a seat opposite my dad. “What’s all this?” I ask, pointing to the pile of printouts from the computer. I pick up the stack and thumb through it. It’s listings for houses in Linesworth.
