“You know I like all your creations—except maybe that neon sweater you insisted on wearing over Christmas a few years ago.” She has a point there, it wasn’t the wisest choice for me. “But I’m not sure the world is ready to accept the sweater vest as stylish.”
“I wasn’t going for stylish,” I counter quickly, then my anxiety ramps up a little as her words sink in. I glance down at my chest. “Hmm, maybe wearing this wasn’t such a good idea after all.”
She frowns at me.
“Holden, you look like you. A guy who is very creative and crafty, who isn’t afraid to wear his creations and be proud of them. Anyone worth knowing will see that.”
One thought springs to mind... Will Reece see that? Or even worse. . .
“Do I look gay, though?”
“You heard what I just said, right?”
“Yes, yes, but do I look too gay?”
“Is that even a thing?” Clara snorts. It is most definitely a thing. Her voice softens. “Who are you trying to impress?”
No one, definitely not anyone. Certainly not my former bully. Nope. No. Not a chance. I wipe the clamminess from my hands and ignore how my heart has sped up.
“Will I be ridiculed?”
“Asks the guy who turns up at his school reunion in a sweater vest?”
“Which he is now regretting,” I admit, trying to keep the panic from showing in my voice.
She squeezes my arm. “You aren’t in high school anymore. Everyone here is an adult, most of them pushing forty. So, mature adults, or so they should be. No one is going to ridicule you, and if they try, they’ll have to deal with me.”
Her words reassure me and I love how she has my back like no one has before. I count my lucky stars for the day she walked into my store and adopted me. My anxiety banks back down a little as we reach the front of the registration line.
We sign in, and we’re given a card with an explanation that it’s for an ice-breaker game later, where we have to find and talk to the owner of the matching card. I can’t think of anything worse, but I take one anyway. Clara smirks as she holds up her card. It’s a bottle of rum.
“What’s supposed to match with that?” I ask, my mind drawing a blank.
“Coke,” Clara says. “I usually take mine neat but I might make an exception if I match well.”
She starts scanning the room and I can see from her expression she’s checking people out.
“It’s an ice-breaker not a date match.”
“Nobody said it couldn’t be both.” She grins. “What did you get?”
I turn it over. “Cheese.”
“All you need to do is find your perfect macaroni.”
“Not a dating game,” I repeat, but she laughs and pulls me over to the bar. I eye the orange drink she hands me a few minutes later with suspicion.
“Are you trying to pass this off as fruit juice?”
“No, it’s definitely alcohol and you should drink it.”
I’m not sure I agree, but I take a sip anyway and move away to let others order their drinks. We stand by a tall table at the side of the room, handy to prop ourselves up on. I look around but I can’t see Reece anywhere, and I allow myself to relax. Maybe he hasn’t come after all.
“OMG. Look!” Clara squeals and I spin around to see what’s got her attention.
“Don’t look,” she hisses, grabbing my arm. “He might see.”
“You just told me to,” I reason, and she gives an exasperated growl. “Who am I not looking at anyway?”
