Frenemies(43)

Georgia interpreted that as following the rules, and gave me an approving smile.

“Was that so hard?” she asked.

“I’m about three seconds away from going postal on both of you,” I said. “But no, that wasn’t hard.”

After a moment, Amy Lee shook her head. “I have to go with Gus. That was pretty condescending.”

“Definitely,” Oscar agreed.

“Really?” Georgia looked crushed. “I was going for encouraging.”

“And I’m the crazy one?” I demanded.

I let them bustle me along with them into a sleigh—the one not containing any of the people I wasn’t allowed to talk to, of course—and then I relaxed into the randomness of the whole thing. The sun was already starting to fade by the time we set off, singing Christmas carols like loons into the coming winter night.

We sang until the stars appeared, and our cheeks were too frozen to sing anymore. I surprised myself by having a great time.

Afterward, we all crowded into the house, Oscar got his hot chocolate, and I came back to earth with a jarring thud. It was one thing to avoid Helen, Nate, and Henry while bundled up in a separate sleigh, singing about angels and mangers and walking in a winter wonderland. It was something else entirely while trapped in a house with them.

Not that they were chasing after me.

Helen smirked every time she looked at me, which rankled, but which I ignored because she was the one I cared the least about. Tonight, anyway. And besides, I knew things she didn’t—things she would kill to know, in fact, about her supposed boyfriend. For his part, Nate shrugged a sort of apology in my direction, but stuck close to her side. I knew it was better that way, since Georgia and Amy Lee were watching me like a hawk, but the truth was, it felt … weird. I wanted to know what had happened. I wanted to know why he’d called that night, and not since. I was sure there was more to the story this time than I can’t be what you want or whatever he’d said that night in the bar. I wanted—needed—explanations. I forced myself to stop looking at him.

I looked across the room instead, to where Henry lounged in the corner, propping himself up against the fireplace. Waiting. I knew he was waiting because whenever my gaze slid in his direction he met it, in a manner I could only describe as challenging. I dare you to come over here, that look said, right out there in the open for anyone to see.

It made me feel jittery. It made me feel as crazy as I was accused of being. It made me think I wanted to take that dare, and that was a whole different kind of crazy, the kind I’d thought had to do with Nate and had last time landed me naked and in the nearest bed with his roommate instead.

“I’m going to the bathroom,” I announced. Amy Lee and Georgia exchanged a look. “Do I really need an escort?” I snapped. “Will I get to be alone on the toilet?”

They let me go.

The downstairs bathroom was occupied, so I climbed my way upstairs. The house was a beautiful old Victorian settled on the edge of a field. Stately and graceful, which was reflected in the furnishings. I found the bathroom and locked the door behind me.

Stately and graceful, I thought. Two words that will never be used to describe me.

When I came out, Henry straightened from the wall, and it was as if he filled the hallway.

My heart stopped beating, and then kicked back into gear.

I couldn’t describe that look on his face, but it made my knees feel weak.

“Oh,” I said. “Hi.”

He smiled.

“So I’ve been thinking,” he said in a casual, conversational sort of voice, completely at odds with the intent way he watched me. “No smart-ass remarks, please.”

We stood facing each other in the hall. Behind him, I could hear the party noises float up from the floor below. The stairway was right around the corner from where he stood. I could make a break for it.

But I didn’t move.

“I didn’t say anything,” I pointed out.

“And yet I could hear you.” He eyed me. “Imagine that.”

“Were you thinking about something in particular?” I asked. “Or was that just a general announcement? For reference?”

“What did I just say?” He shook his head at me. “Like three seconds ago?”

“I don’t think I want to do this,” I said, barely above a whisper. “Whatever this is.”

“Oh, of course,” he said, this time with more of an edge. “Because talking is scary. I keep forgetting how much you hate it.”

“It’s just complicated …” I began, and then stopped myself.

“I bet it is,” he said. “You need to get over the Nate thing. I love the guy, but come on.”

“You don’t know anything about it!”

“I know Helen deserves him, and that’s not a compliment. She’s nuttier than he is.”

I liked the way he said that—so matter-of-factly, as if Helen’s nuttiness was obvious and there could be no rebuttal. As if Henry would certainly never be sucked into her games.

“But see, here’s the thing,” he said, forcing me to focus on him again. “I think what’s going on between us qualifies as a pattern.”

“What?” I frowned at him. “There were two isolated events. No us. No pattern.”