“Will you at least be nice?”
“Tracey. I am being nice.”
“Paul!” I said in exasperation. “You’re acting like you don’t like him!”
“Oh, he’ll KNOW if I don’t like him,” he replied and took a sip of his drink, looking over my shoulder to see if there was anyone less annoying to talk to.
“Jesus,” I sighed.
All around us our friends were drinking and catching up in the patio area of a bar located on the outskirts of our town. The venue had been moved by majority demand and now instead of the small intimate gathering I’d planned, we’d ended up in an expansive space with a band, dancing and a huge outdoor courtyard with heaters and picnic tables. I didn’t mind the change though, because now I felt I didn’t have to be in hostess mode and besides, we’d had a really great turn out so the larger setting actually made sense. Everyone was hugging each other and laughing and taking pictures and screaming, “Oh my god! I didn’t know you’d be here! What the hell have you been up to?!” The Seventh Annual Hometown Holiday Drinks was turning out to be quite a success.
If I do say so myself.
“We’re going to sort this out right now,” I said and grabbed Paul’s arm. I began to lead him to one of the tables.
“Fine,” he acquiesced. “But you might not like what I have to say.”
“Whatever,” I grumbled.
Ugh. I wasn’t sure how much more of this I could take.