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Even as I have to wrestle with Avery’s wriggling body to undo her winter stuff, I scan the room. Just like he has a freaking homing device connected to him, I meet Diego’s stare. He tries to keep his face as neutral as possible, but I can see he’s angry.
Being home with my family and doing all of our holiday stuff has kept me busy enough that I’ve been able to avoid him. Unfortunately, that won’t last.
I know if he doesn’t corner me at some point during tonight’s party, we’ll meet up somewhere, eventually.
I plan to put that inevitable run-in off for as long as possible. I spend the evening helping the younger kids unwrap gifts, fixing plates of food for them, and anything else I can use to stay occupied just so I'm not free to talk to Diego.
Though I have to admit, it sucks not being able to speak to my best friend. Especially on Christmas, my favorite holiday. But he’s being an ass.
As I pour my younger brother the last bit of eggnog from one of the dozens of cartons in the fridge, my phone rings. It’s my boyfriend, Derek. I find myself mildly annoyed by his interruption but decide to answer since it’s the first time we’ve gotten a chance to speak all day.
“Hey, hang on,” I say by way of answer. Then I make sure no one’s around as I dip outside to the backyard from the kitchen.
A chill runs through me from the frigid air, and I curse myself for not grabbing my coat first.
“Merry Christmas,” I tell Derek.
“Merry Christmas. Did you get my gift?” His speech is slightly slurred, a sure indication he’s been drinking.
“It arrived last night. I sent you a text when I couldn’t get a hold of you on the phone,” I tell him.
“Yeah, I was out late last night.”
“With who?”
“What do you mean with who? I went out with friends.” His voice starts to rise. “It’s the first time I’ve been back home since the start of the semester. I can’t go out with my friends?” he barks into the phone. “Don’t be a total bitch, Monique.”
“Excuse you?” I squeak, hardly understanding how this conversation went from zero to ten so damn fast.
“You’re bitching like I did something wrong—”
That’s the last word I hear from him before my phone is snatched out of my hand.
“Who the fuck are you talking to like that?” Diego growls into the phone.
“Diego,” I yell and try to grab my phone from him.
He pivots his body away.
“Don’t worry about who the fuck this is. If you ever talk to her like that again, you’ll find out, up close, who the fuck I am!” He ends the call.
“Why did you do that?” I attempt again to grab for my phone, but he pulls his arm out of reach.
“Does he talk to you like that all of the time? Is that the son of a bitch who you’re not speaking tomeover?”
I flinch at the hurt I hear in his voice.
“Slater is not the reason we’re not talking. You are,” I say, defending my boyfriend.
“Why? Because I told you about his loser ass friend group?”
Slater is friends with a few guys who go to the same university as Diego. He hates them with a passion I don’t understand. Sure, they can be pompous and pricks sometimes, but it’s not like we didn’t go to high school with the same type of guys.
Besides, Derek’s not that bad.
I tell Diego as much which is why his face turns a particular shade of red. The same color as it always gets when he’s furious.
“Did you not hear what I told you a month ago? The guy and his bastard ass friends are trouble.”
