The glittering crowd watched us intently, their eyes drinking us in as though we were palm trees in the snow. As though we'd stumbled into the wrong room and were about to be promptly removed by security. As though we'd just turned up to an elegant soiree in ugly Christmas sweaters.
Because we just had.
"I might have gotten the dates mixed up," James mumbled through his strained smile.
With a smile just as strained, I muttered, "I'm going to kill you."
"Derek?" a silky voice broke through the crowd.
Manolos clipped on marble, the sea of Chanel and Dior practically parting as an older couple emerged from within. A tall, slender man and his petite wife sauntered toward us with open arms, crashing through the remaining guests and sweeping Dex up in an affectionate hug.
"Look at you!" the woman cried loudly, pinching my friend's crimson cheeks. "So grown up!"
It was as if she hadn't even noticed the goofy-looking Santa beaming up at her from his sweater.
In fact, for a family wealthier than three generations of mine combined, the Van Der Yates had to have been some of the warmest people I'd ever met. Once they got over the initial shock of our attire, Dex's parents were quick to find the humor in the fact that we'd turned up to their annual Sugarplum Ball looking less like benefactors and more like beneficiaries. Mrs. Van Der Yates fussed over her son's bright red outfit like a mother hen, while her husband's hearty laugh painted the air in warm, jolly tones. James tried to explain away the mix-up in light of our many pitstops and car troubles, but it was clear that our hosts couldn't have cared less about their son's shabby attire; they were just glad that he was home.
"You must be Madi," Dex's mother guessed, swapping my formal handshake for an enthusiastic embrace instead. She had a warm, motherly sort of air about her—almost as if Mrs. Claus and Molly Weasley had been mixed together in a blender. But with her high cheekbones and thick, bouncy waves, you'd probably have to throw in a bit of Claudia Schiffer, too.
She didn't wait for confirmation before she grabbed her husband by the sleeve of his Armani suit, nodding her head at me with a fond smile coating her red lips.
"Darling, this is the sweet dear who taught Dex how to do laundry."
I chewed on my smile, raising my eyebrows at their son. I couldn't believe that that was my claim to fame.
Then again, I kind of could. Dex hadn't even known about separating whites and colors when I first met him.
He had the pink briefs to prove it.
"She's quite the catch," a more familiar voice cooed. James' mother stepped forward to graze her lips against my cheek, throwing me a demure smile before aiming it at her son.
I was two seconds away from scrutinizing the meaning of it before James' dad forced a flute of golden champagne into my hands.
"I hear you have a job lined up for the new year," he said, patting my shoulder gently. "That's fantastic, Madison. You should be very proud."
I managed to thank him sheepishly, though I was slightly startled by the fact that he knew that information in the first place. Then again, I was surprised that he even remembered my name. I always took Mr. Bennet for someone whose catalog of acquaintances rivaled the length of Santa's naughty list, so the fact that he'd take the time to single me out in a room full of much more important people was an achievement all on its own.
I couldn't explain why, but it also made me emotional. Maybe it was the fatherly warmth that pooled in his sapphire gaze, or maybe it was the nod of approval he cast on me before stepping away to join his family, but that small moment with him went a long way in filling a void in my heart.
In some strange way, I knew it was the closest I'd ever come to hearing my own father say that he was proud of me.
I sipped on the glittering liquid while I watched my friends catch up with their families. I'd met the Bennet's before, so I was relatively familiar with their dynamic. Mrs. Bennet was the sweet and graceful mother hen, while James' dad was always the loudest and most charismatic person in any room. He boasted about his wife and son in a way that almost made easy-going James red in the face, but I knew that it was just a manifestation of his love and pride.
It probably would have made me jealous if I didn't like them all so much.
While Mr. Bennet regarded James pretty much as an equal, I could tell that Dex was always going to be his parents' little boy at any age. His mother, especially, couldn't stop fussing over him, unable to resist the urge to brush down his wild hair and dust the lint off his sweater. His father was also checking up on him in his own subtle way, making sure that he was indeed okay after our brush with death on the road.
I'm sure Dex loved that.
Only three of Noah's eight siblings were at the party, with the other five probably still too young to attend. But, suddenly, so much about my friend made sense. I understood exactly why he was the way he was. His siblings were so boisterous and lively that they demanded that same energy back, while his sports agent father was a lot more composed and refined. It was clear that Noah was forced into the role of a diplomat; the balancing-force between crazy and calm. Much like the role he'd taken on with Dex and James.
And, I guess, with me.
"Trust my cousin to bring the party to a party," a slick voice brushed against my ear.
I turned with a start, only to be drawn in by a pair of sparkling blue eyes.
An unfamiliar boy was savoring a sip of his pink cocktail behind me, a knowing expression teasing the faultless contours of his face. His eyelids were coated in glimmering pastel purple eyeshadow, his neck, wrists, and ears adorned in ornate silver trinkets that shimmered under the warm lights.
"You must be Madison," he purred, extending a ring-encrusted hand toward me.
I returned the gesture, his grip dainty and careful around mine. "That's right," I confirmed for the second time that evening, slightly embarrassed that I couldn't place his flawlessly-made-up face in my mind. I really should have asked my friends for a run-down of the guest list before attending a function with basically every person they knew.
But the stranger wasn't offended. His glossy smile only widened as I continued to search his face.
"Are you Dex's cousin?" I prodded.
He tossed a rogue raven lock back from over his forehead, reveling in my curiosity for a second longer. I had a feeling that he quite enjoyed it. His eyes swung up and down my frame before he said, "No, babe. James'."
"Oh!" I nodded, evaluating him again with fresh eyes. I should have guessed that he was related to James. While his hair was thicker and curlier than his cousin's, he had the trademark ocean eyes of a true Bennet. His gaze was just as warm and reassuring as that of my best friend's, too. And, unlike so many other guests in that expensive, dazzling room, he had a genuine sort of energy about him. He was looking at me with interest, but he was regarding me as an equal.
Even in that silly Christmas sweater.
He shook his head ever-so-slightly, disagreeing with some of what he'd just said. "He's more than that, though."
I hid my intrigue behind a sip of champagne, but I think he caught it gleaming in my eyes. It wasn't my place to pry, but with a statement like that, how could I not?
He appeared to appraise me for a moment, sweeping that hypnotic Bennet stare over me one more time. Then, with a small smirk, he cast his eyes back out to the crowd.
"You know people like this," he clucked. "I can tell by the way you look at them."
I followed his glare around the diamond-studded room. It wasn't difficult to see that we—or maybe just me, the shiny new toy amongst a crowd of familiars—had captured the attention of more than a few guests. And the young Bennet was right; I did know them. At least, I had a pretty good idea of the personality that came with those sorts of sneers mixed with that type of old money.
"They don't like scandals," he clarified. "They don't like anything that rocks the boat. When I came out, that rocked the boat." He swallowed a dry laugh, one that inferred that 'rocking the boat' was a vast understatement of what'd happened. "Almost every Bennet in this room turned their back on me. Except Jay." He pointed to his cousin, who'd been forced away from his parents by a group of older women.
Who, might I add, couldn't seem to keep their hands to themselves.
"He talked to his parents. The three of them talked to my parents. He explained things in a way that I never could. In a way that got through to them. He helped them to stop seeing me as what they thought I was—a stain, a mark—and start seeing me for what I am." He shrugged. "Human."
I smiled as his words settled into the air, following his eyes back out across the ballroom. When I caught another glimpse of my golden haired friend, my heart swelled for him. I don't know why I felt proud of him; it's not like I was surprised to learn that he'd risked his family and his inheritance in order to do the right thing. It wasn't surprising at all.
It was just him.
I smiled softly. "He's a good person."
James' cousin jerked his head—a movement caught between a shake and a nod. His tone mirrored that ambiguity, both agreeing and disagreeing with me at the same time. "He's just ... love. Pure. Unconditional."
My heart twinged. Because I knew.
God, I knew.
He scrunched up his face the moment the words left his mouth. Sarcasm crumpled his features as he groaned, "Yikes. Don't tell him I said that. He'll probably want to hug me."
I couldn't help but laugh. So many emotions were swirling inside of me, and I needed a way to let them out without doing something ridiculous like crying.
"I love these," I said, running a hand along my wrist as I nodded to the sweet chains on his. He was adorned in dainty pendants—a silver branch of holly hanging from one ear, snowflakes and tiny stars garnishing his fingers and wrists. Each silver piece was small but incredibly detailed, festive but not over-the-top, culminating in a carefully selected ensemble of understated holiday cheer.
His reply was cryptic, his eyes shedding their vulnerable edge and flashing mischievously. "You do?"
I returned his inquisitive stare with one of my own. He cleared his throat, offering me a softer, sheepish grin.
"They're mine," he explained. "I make them, I mean."
"Really?" They were so pretty and perfect, I'd just assumed they were Cartier or Tiffany. "Gosh, I couldn't imagine being able to make something so precious."
"I couldn't imagine being able to memorize the periodic table," he laughed, waving a hand so that his rings caught on the light. "My science classes consisted of me designing jewelry on my exam paper."
I laughed along with him, though I couldn't help but feel a pang of shame. I knew nothing about him, and he seemed to know more than a thing or two about me. Enough that he'd felt comfortable to share the story of his coming out with me.
"Bennet ..."
I startled at the sound of the low, sultry drawl. It was a tone so very uncharacteristic on a voice that was otherwise familiar.
Noah stepped forward, and my new friend's eyes flashed again.
"Jones ..." he drawled back. He regarded him slowly, casting a not-so-subtle glance up and down Noah's broad silhouette. He cocked his head and raised a primped brow, scrutinizing the reindeer on my friend's sweater with a teasing, layered smirk. "Always one for the latest trends, aren't we babe?"
"Not worth the style points, I must admit." Noah chuckled, running a hand along the arm of his jumper to demonstrate his point. "These things itch like you wouldn't believe. Right, Madi?"
I nodded simply, though I couldn't at all relate. My knit was soft, the cream wool cozy and fluffy against my cold skin. Actually, I'd never owned a sweater so nice.
Now that I thought about it, the material on mine looked drastically different to that on Noah's.
"Why don't you take it off?" James' cousin asked, his voice cool while his insinuation was not. When I stole a glance in his direction, he was eyeing Noah closely.
Intimately.
Like I wasn't there at all.
"Is that appropriate?" Noah asked, his voice just as husky, his gaze just as penetrating.
"You should take it off," the enigmatic Bennet repeated.
My eyes flew open, a swift heat pricking my cheeks.
Suddenly, I didn't want to be there at all.
Because I was definitely interrupting ... something.
"Blair," Noah warned with a buttery laugh, "there are families present—"
"Blair?" I shrieked.
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