I hold up the now empty glass as my stomach rumbles. “Sure thing.”
“All right. I’ll circle back around after I grab myself one.” She disappears into the crowd.
We’re a few songs into karaoke and I’m wondering what I was so worried about. This is actually a lot of fun! In fact, I’m having the best time tonight!
I’m feeling so good right now, and I’m so tired of standing off in the corner and not having any of the fun. I’ve had to watch Andrew from afar all night when all I really want to do is drag him back to the break room and have my way with him.
In fact, maybe I should do that. I’m pondering that as an option when Bethaney finishes her version of Elvis’s “Blue Christmas” and hands the microphone back to the DJ, who cues up the next song and passes it to a guy I met earlier. I think he said he worked in accounting.
“That was awesome!” I tell her as she passes me.
“Thank you! I see you’re feeling good off the good stuff.” She motions to the drink in my hand.
I look at her funny. “What do you mean? This is just juice.” I start laughing but stop when I realize she’s not joining me in finding this funny. I hold up the drink and some of the liquid splashes over the side onto my hand. “Wait. Bethaney, there’s no alcohol in this, right? You said there wasn’t any.”
“Of course there’s alcohol in it.” She gives me a duh look. “It’s a party! I was just giving you a little liquid courage so you could let Andrew know how you feel.” She grins at me, and her lips sort of move in waves.
I don’t know if that’s actually happening or if it’s the alcohol, but it’s kinda cool.
I shake my head, trying to get back to my original thoughts. Alcohol. Right.
“Bethaney, I can’t be drinking at a work event!” Panic tries to grip me, but its hold is fuzzy at best in my current state. I just can’t seem to work up the indignation I know I should feel.
“It’s fine. Everyone’s drinking. It’s a party!” Circling around and dancing in place, she holds up her glass and finishes off what’s in there as if to prove how much of a party it is.
“I guess.”
She stops dancing and her eyes go wide. “Hey, I have an idea,” she says as though she just figured out how to solve world hunger.
I step closer to her. “What is it?”
She leans in and whispers in my ear. Even though I have a momentary pause where I wonder whether this really is the best thing, I push that thought aside because who doesn’t love surprises? Especially surprises that involve Christmas!
“Good idea.”
“Yay!” She claps her free hand against her glass and rushes off toward the DJ to make it happen.
As soon as the guy from accounting is done singing “Silver Bells”—God, what a snooze fest that is for a party as fun as this—Bethaney takes the microphone from him and leans in to tell the DJ something. I toss back the remainder of my drink and leave the glass on a nearby table while I make my way to the center of the dance floor. It’s a little harder to walk than I remember, but I get there nonetheless.
Glancing around, I don’t see Andrew in the crowd until he makes his way to the edge of the dance floor. I wave enthusiastically to him, and he returns my gesture with the lamest wave known to man.
Bethaney’s voice comes over the mic. “Okay, everyone, we have a very special performer this time. This is our event planner, Kenzie. Let’s give it up for her.”
Everyone cheers and it feels good, so I raise my hands in the air, sort of how a boxer might if they won a match.
“Kenzie is going to sing this song to someone very special tonight. It’s the perfect way to tell him how he feels. Andrew Wainwright, will you please come out onto the dance floor?” She grabs a chair from a nearby table and drags it over so it’s in front of me. “Andrew, where are you?”
“There he is.” I point to where he still stands, except now, he has this weird expression on his face, almost like he might puke.
When he doesn’t move, Bethaney rushes over and grabs Andrew’s arm, dragging him out onto the floor. She forces him to sit in the chair as the opening sounds of Mariah Carey’s “All I Want for Christmas” play.
She quickly passes the mic off to me, and I sing. The crowd really cheers me on when the tempo of the song picks up and I make a show of dragging my hand over Andrew’s chest and walking around him, peeking over his shoulder while singing to him. At some point, I sit on his lap and shimmy around, but when I start to use my free hand to pull my dress up a bit and be cheeky, he stops me.
I frown. Why is he ruining my fun?
I try it again, and when he does the same thing, I stand and turn to face him, shimmying close to him, shaking my chest so my breasts bounce in his face.
But he’s not even looking at me. He’s looking around at the crowd and I look over too. A lot of them have their cell phones out, taping us, and are laughing and cheering me on. I smile at the cameras and turn back to face Andrew, but I pause.