Now I was panicking. My orange cat, Dandelion, a.k.a. Dandy, was no help and was currently making biscuits with the clothes I’d already rejected.
Tally: Do you still have that shirt with the cute little vibrators on it?
Gray: …yeah. But I’m not wearing that.
Tally: Why not? This is the place to wear something like that.
She was right. I’d bought the shirt as a joke and had never actually worn it in public. All the vibrators had little happy faces and the text on the shirt said “good vibes only.” It was totally silly, but honestly? Where else could I wear such a thing?
Gray: I’m bringing a backup shirt just in case.
Tally: You’re not going to need it.
At least it was December in Massachusetts and I could wear my coat over it so no one in my complex would see the scandalous shirt.
Tally was also picking me up, which was nice of her to do. By the time she messaged that she was waiting outside, I’d fixed my shirt, made sure my dark waves weren’t looking too chaotic, and had slid my feet into my boots by the door, my corn dip and bag of chips carefully balanced so I didn’t drop anything.
“Let me see the shirt,” Tally demanded after we’d made sure the corn dip and chips were safe in the back with her bread. Rolling my eyes, I unbuttoned my jacket and showed her my vibrator shirt under the glow of the streetlight.
“Oh my god, amazing. They’re going to love it.”
The potluck was being heldin the next town over at a very nice home in an adorable neighborhood. The kind of place where influencers would do pensive poses on the porches with poetry quotes. The kind of place where everyone decorated for Halloween and Christmas with a theme and competed with each other.
Tally drove past the house and found an empty spot up the street, making me check the sign to make sure that she wasn’t going to get towed or ticketed.
“You’re good.”
We gathered our containers and walked down the sidewalk, shivering and pressing ourselves together to conserve body heat. At least the sidewalk was clear, and we weren’t in danger of slipping or sliding on black ice.
The house was lit up with a warm golden glow and strings of rainbow Christmas lights and real fir garlands wrapped around the columns on the porch.
I didn’t need to be a real estate agent to do the math on what this house cost. Something I’d never be able to afford, that was for sure. Even more intense than my nervousness was my desire to see inside. Tally always teased me about my hobby of looking up homes online to see how much they were worth and to take virtual tours. But she was the one who was online and looking people up anytime there was a whiff of drama. We were both nosy as hell.
Tally knocked and the door opened, letting warm air scented with cinnamon wash over us.
“Hello, good to see you, come on in.” An older woman with short graying hair was holding the collar of a golden retriever that wiggled and seemed desperate to say hello to us.
“Sorry about him, he’ll calm down.”
We stepped inside and she gave a command to the dog, who immediately sat, but still strained toward us and whined pitifully.
“This is my friend, Gray, that I told you about,” Tally said, gesturing to me.
The woman smiled. “So nice to meet you, Gray. I’m Emily and this is Boomer. Welcome. Everyone is in the kitchen, as usual.”
She helped us remove and hang our coats in the foyer closet and we both placed our boots on the mat by the door. There were quite a few pairs there already.
My nerves kicked in again.
“Breathe,” Tally said in my ear as we followed Emily and Boomer past a gorgeous staircase, an office on the left and a formal living room on the right, to the back where a kitchen and a second living area were bustling with noise and people.
“Everyone, you remember Tally, and she brought her friend, Gray.”
Everyone’s eyes seemed to stare into my soul as I tried to get my bearings. Tally gave me a wink and went to set down her bread. The marble-topped island was absolutely overflowing with food.
“Um, this needs to be heated up?” I said to Emily, holding up my dip. “And I brought chips.” Tally had carried them for me.
“Would it work in there?” Emily asked, pointing to a row of crockpots on the counter all lined up.
