Frenemies(73)

“What are we doing to celebrate?” Georgia demanded when she called. By that point I’d retreated to the couch, and was watching some action flick involving Bruce Willis and many dubbed-for-profanity scenes on cable.

“I’m not sure we’re doing anything,” I replied around a yawn. “It’s snowing and it turns out, I don’t think I care.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Georgia said. “I’ll be over around eight.”


She arrived at seven-thirty, bearing drinks and accompanied by Chris Starling—who seemed perfectly at ease in my living room and with Georgia, I was pleased to see. Even more exciting, though, was the fact that Georgia seemed just as laid-back around Chris. I’d never seen her relaxed around a new guy. Ever.

“That seems to be going well,” I murmured to Georgia in the kitchen, while Chris poked around in my books.

“We’ll see,” Georgia murmured back, sounding totally noncommittal, but she was practically radiant.

Amy Lee and Oscar turned up about fifteen minutes later, also with drinks, although in their case the drink was sparkling cider.

“I’m quitting alcohol, too,” Oscar told me. “In sympathy.”

“That’s really sweet of you!” I told him, containing the aw.

“It’s called survival,” Oscar retorted, and only grinned when Amy Lee made a face at him. Then they were caught up in meeting Chris Starling, making noise about the redecoration, and ordering pizza delivery.

“I can’t believe this place!” Amy Lee said. She jerked her chin toward Chris Starling and mouthed: So cute! “I thought you were going to do the dormitory thing for the rest of our lives. This is just amazing!”

“There’s more to do,” I said, grinning. I mouthed: SO cute TOGETHER! “But it’s definitely a good start.”

“And Irritating Irwin helped you?” she asked, lowering her voice to a whisper, as if she thought he might be pressed up to his wall with a glass tumbler.

“He was great,” I said. “I couldn’t have done any of this without him.”

“Does he have a crush on you?” Amy Lee asked, narrowing her eyes at the far wall.

“Not that I know of.” It not only hadn’t seemed that way to me at the time, it sketched me out to consider it, since that would somewhat take away from the new friendship I’d thought I’d made.

“I bet he does,” she said, settling into the armchair. “Don’t you think, Georgia?”

“Absolutely.” Georgia waved her hands around the living room. “Exhibit A.”

“Wait a minute,” Oscar said. “How is the room an exhibit?”

“Why would he help Gus out if he didn’t have an ulterior motive?” Amy Lee asked, sounding perfectly reasonable.

“Because guys can’t just be nice,” Oscar said, rolling his eyes at Chris Starling. “They have to have ulterior motives.”

“They don’t have to,” Georgia said. “They just do.”

“Help me out, here,” Oscar begged Chris.

“I’m with them,” Chris replied, leaning back with his hand resting comfortably on Georgia’s leg, as if it belonged there.

“You’re killing me,” Oscar told him.

“I might carry a bag of groceries, but put up shelves and move furniture?” Chris shook his head. “Not unless I thought I had an in.”

“He’s just a nice guy who doesn’t get out much!” I protested. “You all have evil minds!”

“Except me,” Oscar said.

“And Gus, apparently,” Georgia said, eyeing me. “I didn’t know turning thirty meant you’d go all marshmallow-centered.”

I was saved from answering that by the buzzer for the door, and the immediate heart attack Linus underwent upon hearing it. He barked. He howled. He hurled himself against the front door as if he thought we were under siege.

Because of this, delivery people did not come to my apartment door more than once.

“It’s the pizza,” I said, “and you should be grateful, Georgia, because I had a withering comeback planned.”

“I’m trembling with fear,” Georgia assured me.

“And anyway,” I told them, grinning as I got to my feet, “you should all consider getting over the Irwin thing, because he’s coming over at eight-thirty.”

I slipped into the hallway, and headed for the front door below, flicking a glance at Irwin?/?Steve’s door as I passed it. I didn’t think he had a crush on me—and I also didn’t care to rip apart his motivations. If our sudden friendship was going to blow up in my face, I didn’t think there was much I could do about it in advance. It occurred to me that this mind-set was a significant step away from the norm for me.

Maybe I really was growing up.

I hurled open the door to the outside and froze as the snow whirled around me in a cloud, but not because I was cold.

It was Henry.

“You’re not the pizza man,” I pointed out.

Unnecessarily.

He stepped inside, and let the heavy door fall shut behind him as he brushed the snow off. He didn’t look like GQ tonight, he looked a little wild and significantly snow-covered. His jeans and parka were caked in it. But his cheeks were flushed with the cold and the color made his eyes seem as impossible as summer.