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As the final people take their seats across the room, the MC welcomes everyone and begins going through the rules of the quiz. I listen, but I’m distracted by the subtle perfume of the woman tucked up against me and the softness of her body. She’s wearing her hair down today, and it falls past her shoulders in attractive dark-brown waves. I bend my head closer to hers and inhale.
She looks up at me then, and her lips curve up as she whispers, “Did you just sniff my hair?”
I murmur back, “It smells nice.”
“You’re supposed to be listening to the rules.”
“I am listening.”
“Name one.”
“Don’t cheat.”
She laughs. “Fair enough.”
“James will remember all the rules,” I say, raising my voice. “He always tells everyone what to do anyway.”
“Someone has to,” James says. “You lot are useless.”
“You don’t have to be so rude about it,” Cassie states tartly.
James gives her a look. “I wasn’t talking about you. I was referring to these losers.” He gestures at the rest of us.
She gets out her phone and starts scrolling as she finishes off the glass of wine I just bought her.
I lift my eyebrows. They’ve been bickering a lot lately, but not quite as openly as that. James rolls his eyes and looks away, but the rest of us exchange awkward glances.
“Got a Christmas joke for you all,” Missie says. “What do you call a kid who doesn’t believe in Santa?”
We all shake our heads.
“A rebel without a Claus,” she answers, prompting lots of groaning and laughter. She winks at me, and I know then that she told the joke to diffuse the tension.
“Did you hear about the dyslexic Satanist?” Henry asks, joining in. “He sold his soul to Santa.”
That prompts more laughter, although I note that Cam doesn’t smile. He just glares at Henry. Hmm… wonder what that’s about?
“Go on,” Juliette says to me, “you must have another one in your repertoire. He’s the best joke teller,” she tells Missie.
“I have hundreds,” I reply, “but they’re not appropriate to tell in public.”
“Oh my God, you absolutely have to tell one now,” Missie prompts.
“All right. Why does Santa always come down the chimney?”
Juliette grins. “I can guess where this is going, but I don’t know.”
“Because he knows better than to try the back door.”
Missie giggles, and that starts the other girls off, and soon everyone’s laughing again, except for Cassie, who just huffs a sigh and continues scrolling on her phone.
There’s a pause as one of the staff arrives to give us a sheet of paper and a pen, and then the waiter arrives with a large bowl of mulled wine and a tray of small glasses that Henry apparently ordered. Juliette and Missie ladle the wine into the glasses and pass them around, and they’ve just finished when the MC announces it’s time to start.
I sip the drink, tasting orange, cloves, cinnamon, and raisins with the red wine, and a feeling of contentment settles over me. I wasn’t sure if Missie was going to back out at the last minute, and I felt such a surge of pleasure when I saw her walking across the room. And now I’m sitting here with her on an almost-date, almost-touching her, with my friends, drinking mulled wine, and things are feeling pretty good.
“I forgot to ask,” she says, “is Zelda at home on her own tonight?”
“No, she’s with my dad. He loves the chance to get his hands on her. I’ll pick her up in the morning.”
