I take another sip and try to get back into the picnic vibe, but it’s no good. I can’t stop thinking about Elliot. I look at Noah. “Would it be OK if we went inside to the party? Elliot sounded really stressed. He said he needs to talk to me.”
A flicker of disappointment crosses Noah’s face and I feel really bad. But I can’t leave Elliot waiting, especially after he got so upset with me yesterday.
Noah nods. “Sure. Tell you what—you go see him. I’ll head off home.”
“No! I mean, can’t you come with me? I don’t want you to go.”
Noah laughs. “I can’t gate-crash someone’s wedding. And, anyways, I’ll be seeing you tomorrow.”
“Yes, but I’m sure the Bradys won’t mind. They’re a lovely couple. I can tell them you’re Sadie Lee’s grandson. I can say you’re my plus one.”
Noah raises his eyebrows and gives me a cheeky grin. “Your plus one, huh?”
“Yes. Please come with me.”
Noah shakes his head. “Listen. When I came here tonight, I thought it was to say goodbye. Now you’re gonna be here for another week, so it’s all good. I don’t mind waiting till tomorrow. You go spend some time with your friend. He doesn’t need me getting in the way.”
“You wouldn’t be getting in the way, you—”
Noah puts his finger to my lips. “Shhh.”
“But the picnic . . .”
“We can have picnics every day when you’re staying at mine.” He grins at me. “Go see your friend.”
I sigh. “OK.”
“But first . . .”
Noah pulls me toward him and kisses me again, cupping my head with his hand and stroking my hair.
“Whoa!” he says, when we finally come up for air.
“Great kiss!” I say, because of course I can’t possibly do something momentous like properly kiss a boy without saying something embarrassing.
“Yes,” Noah says with an amused twinkle in his eye. “Great kisser.”
I laugh and look away. And even though my face is flushed, I don’t really care. That’s the difference with Noah—I can be an International Embarrassment Waiting to Happen, but it doesn’t matter because he doesn’t care.
“Come on,” he says. “Let’s get you back inside.”
• • •
When I get back to the party, my lips are still tingling from our kisses. But the second I spot Elliot the tingle starts to fade and my heart sinks. He’s sitting at the table on his own, looking utterly dejected.
“Where have you been?” he asks as soon as I sit down.
“Sorry, Noah wanted to go for a picnic and—”
“A picnic?”
“Yes, but don’t worry I—”
“So where is he now?” Elliot interrupts, looking toward the door.
“He’s gone home.”
“What? Why? He didn’t have to do that. I told you to bring him here.”
“He didn’t want to gate-crash the wedding.”
“But they wouldn’t have minded—he’s the caterer’s grandson.”
“I know but . . . anyway, what happened? What did your parents say?”
“They freaked.” Elliot looks down at the table and starts picking at the tablecloth. “They said that there was no way I could stay here for Christmas, that that wasn’t what they agreed to—like this is some legal case they’re working on. They’d rather I fly home on my own than stay here with you guys because they want a family Christmas. But”—Elliot pauses as if for dramatic effect—“they did say that if you came home with me you’d be welcome to spend Christmas at ours.”
“Oh—I—”
“Aha, the wanderer has returned!” Dad cries as he plonks down into the seat next to me. He’s red-faced and out of breath. Clearly some serious dad-dancing has been going on in my absence.
Mum sits down next to him. She’s not looking quite so ruffled, but then, she’s still a great dancer from her theater days. “Penny, where’s Noah?”
“He’s gone back home,” I say.
Mum frowns. “Already? Why didn’t you ask him to join us? I’m sure the Bradys wouldn’t have minded—he is Sadie Lee’s grandson after all.”
Geez, if I hear that one more time! “It’s OK. I needed to see Elliot—about his parents.”
“Ah yes.” Dad shakes his head, looking at Elliot. “It’s such a shame. Christmas won’t be the same without you.”
Elliot nods and sighs, then he turns to me. “So, what do you think, Pen?”
“I don’t know.” I gaze at the crowded dance floor, as if searching for inspiration. How can I possibly get out of this without hurting Elliot’s feelings?
“What does she think about what?” Dad asks.
“My parents have said that Penny is welcome to spend Christmas with us, if she comes home with me tomorrow.” Elliot looks at Dad hopefully.
I look at Mum and she raises her eyebrows. I focus really hard and try to send her a psychic daughter-mother message to beg her not to let me go.
“Oh, I don’t know . . .” Mum begins.
“I know one of my parents’ Christmas-ready meals on a tray won’t be the same as one of your dad’s epic feasts,” Elliot says, turning to me, “but then you won’t be having one of your dad’s epic feasts this year anyway, will you? You’ll be having a hotel Christmas dinner.”