Page 16 of Off Limits

“Yeah, okay. But either way, you’re not at all a bother and you’re coming over from work. End of discussion. We’ll grab food on the way home.” The pressure in my chest deflates as she turns back to her magazine.

“Why aren’t you going to be with Brendan again?” I’m thankful she’s going to be around. It keeps me from having to spend the New Year home alone, which would be incredibly depressing.

“He’s out of town. His family goes to his aunt’s for New Year every year. The family has a handful of December and January birthdays, so they get together to celebrate.”

“Oh. That actually sounds nice.” I don’t have a big family. My parents were both only children. I have no extended family. Chelsea’s the closest thing I have to actual family these days.

“If you say so. I do miss him, though.”

“When does he get back?” These nice, easy flowing conversations are one of my favorite things about having Chelsea as my best friend. She doesn’t give me much opportunity to put my foot in my mouth, and if I do, she ignores it instead of calling attention to it, which others have done in the past.

“Oh, he’ll be back tomorrow night. They just stay the one night because it’s in Pennsylvania, like three hours away or something.”

“So, I won’t see you the day after?”

“Pretty much.” A sly smile spreads across her face. I don’t ask, because I don’t want to know. “We’ll be having sex all day.”

“Ugh, Chelsea, I didn’t need to know that.” A prickly feeling inches up my spine. There are some things I just don’t need to know about.

“Oh, grow up, Shay. Just because you choose not to have sex doesn’t mean I have to.”

“Yeah, but I don’t need to hear about it.” I swipe my clammy palms on my pant legs.

“Trust me, you’re not. If I wanted you to hear about it, I could tell you how he makes me scream when he—"

“Girls! Break’s over.” I have never been so thankful for Mom’s interruption.

“Be right there!” I yell back. “Saved by the mom.” I smack her leg. “Let’s go.”

We both take a deep breath and plaster on our smiles before walking through the door to the floor. Only two more hours and we’re free to enjoy our night.

We waltz into Chelsea’s house at six thirty, two pizzas in hand, and go straight into the kitchen.

“Pizza? Really, Chels?” Lochlyn’s voice is dripping with irritation.

“What?”

He points a knife at the cutting board and vegetables in front of him.

“How was I supposed to know you were going to cook?”

“When have you ever starved?”

“Never. But I wanted pizza.” When he just glares at her, she drops her attitude. “Look, I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t know you’d be making something. Or that you’d started yet. I thought it’d be nice if I brought something home, so you didn’thaveto cook. I was trying to be nice.”

With a deep breath, he sets the knife down. “It’s fine. I can save this stuff. Get plates, let’s eat.”

I often stay quiet during their exchanges, letting them work through it. While Lochlyn puts the vegetables he’d chopped into a storage container, Chelsea grabs plates, and I get napkins. We take the pizza over to the kitchen table, then set the plates and napkins at each place. Lochlyn comes to sit with three sodas in hand. We sit at the table for an hour, talking about the store when we finish eating.

Lochlyn’s gaze keeps finding its way to me. I know because more often than not I’m—hopefully stealthily—looking at him.

After cleaning up, we make our way to the living room, flipping through many of the early New Year’s celebrations. Lochlyn settles onThe Twilight Zonemarathon as Chelsea grumbles. It’s become a yearly tradition. We usually get together to watch something before Lochlyn leaves for a party. He’s taken us to one here and there.

“Do we have to? Again?” she asks, whining like a petulant child.

“Shay?” Lochlyn turns to ask me.

“Sorry, Chels. I vote yes.” While it may be part of our annual New Year’s Eve tradition, it’s another interest that Lochlyn and I have in common, so another thing that I file away in the part of me that shouldn’t care.