My hands were burning despite the freezing cold biting at my neck, nose, and ankles.

I gripped the stack of hot pie tins in my arms and dared to knock on the door using the toe of my sneaker. I could hear music playing inside and I cocked my head impatiently. Just as I lifted my leg to bang on wood again, the doorknob rattled and I stood straight.

"Meek's here!" Erick yelled over his shoulder.

A harmony of cheers came from the other room, probably the same dining room we ate breakfast in, and I snorted to myself. Erick took half of the pies from the ones in my hands and I relaxed my grip just a bit, wary of third degree burns.

I followed him into the kitchen where we set the pies down. "Hi, Thomas!" Grace chirped from the stove as I shouldered off my layers of jackets. "I'm so glad you could make it this year. It wasn't the same without you."

Last year, I couldn't get the time off work to come down early enough for Friendsgiving. I made it to my Mom's for one day only and then I was back home, slaving away per usual. This year, I carefully organized my vacation and sick days and made sure I would be able to see everyone.

"Erick hasn't stopped whining about it since last year," I said and she laughed, making Erick scoff.

"Only because you were picked for mashed potatoes and no one could do it last minute so we had a potato-less Friendsgiving," he said defensively, just as the brigade walked through the door.

I was instantly bombarded with love from Carlos and Chris, who wore unintentionally matching sweaters. A glass of wine was ushered into my hand before I could protest—not that I was going to. Alcohol was an old friend of mine, always having my back and keeping me from losing it. Grace's kids and husband were in the dining room, as well as Caitlyn and Ben, a girl I didn't recognize, and a familiar face.

"Joey?" I said.

Joey looked up from his phone and our eyes met. I offered a smile as his face lit up in recognition, starting towards me. "Well, well, well," he said, shaking his head in disbelief. "Small world, isn't it?"

"It sure is," I agreed. "Who do you know?"

"Me," Erick said from behind me. "We work together."

I raised my eyebrows. "You?" I said in surprise, looking at Joey. "Construction?"

He laughed, tipping his head back a bit. "I know, I know. I actually really like it," he said as his eyes slid over my body, down my black crew neck and raking back up my tattered Converse. "You look good, Meek."

I didn't believe him.

The bags under my eyes could weigh down a camel, my skin was breaking out from the weather drying it out, I had cut my hair short a week ago and it looked horrendous, and I lied to my mom—I'd lost weight since the last time I saw her.

So the compliment was just a means of trying to get me to go home with him. Which I'd oblige if he tried a little harder.

Joey and I had met on a dating app a few years ago and hooked up casually a few times before I ghosted him. There was just something about him that I wasn't into, but I could never place it. He was definitely hot, definitely my type, but I couldn't shake the feeling that he was also incredibly dull.

"Thanks," I said, giving him a flirty smile.

We all mingled while Phoebe finished preparing dinner. Other than the classic dishes that deserve to be at every dinner—pumpkin pie, mashed potatoes, and greens—we didn't do the entire Thanksgiving spread. It was usually a casserole or pasta or something, something easy to cook a lot of and not exhaust ourselves before the actual holiday.

I was talking to Chris's now fiancée Ebony about a new show that came out on Netflix when the alcohol began to kick in. My friends were never short on supplying alcohol at special occasions, so I was always sloshed.

Caitlyn made something she called a Caramel Apple Cocktail that might have been the most exquisite drink I'd ever tasted. I had five.

"Dinner is ready!" Phoebe shouted through the walls.

I sat back and waited while the moms of the group went first, making plates for the young ones and guiding them to the kids table. Everyone got their turn to grab food and I went last, scraping up the last bits of some things and then having the luxury of opening the second, tin-foiled dish of the same side.

And then we were all sitting at the table, drinks in the air, cheers-ing to another wonderful year.

We went around the table, doing the alphabetical variant of saying what we're thankful for. I was forth in the rotation, so I got D. I looked around in thought while I tried to think about what to say. Phoebe said Aubrey for A, Erick said booze for B, Carlos said Carlos for C—

"I'm thankful for days like this," I said honestly.

Everyone aww'd and swooned and I felt my cheeks heat up, but I meant it. I didn't have much to look forward to in my day-to-day life. These special moments that I could spend with the people I cared about more than almost anything—regardless of how much of a fight I'd put about actually making the effort to come—meant a lot to me.

The whole table went around, ending with L for lesbians, courtesy of the unknown girl that I still hadn't introduced myself to. Dinner was excellent, to no one's surprise, and the conversation was even better. Carlos and I went back and forth with heated banter about which of the Spider-man actors portrayal was the best. Scott pissed Grace off by simply breathing too loud. Chris's son Jeremiah came up to the grown-ups table and asked a question so philosophical that stumped all of us. It was all in all a fantastic time.

In the end, we were all finished eating, but no one left the table. Except for when Ebony snuck off to the kitchen and returned with trays—endless fucking trays that made my mouth water—of some pumpkin pudding shots she made.

A few people grimaced at the taste, claiming she went a little heavy on the Bailey's, but I could not disagree more. I was given my own tray of them.

Half of the tray later, when I was relaxing on the couch once again, my body sinking into the sofa cushions, there was a knock at the door. Whoever was here was late. I tried looking towards the foyer in a nosy attempt at seeing who it was, but my vision was obscured when Joey came and sat beside me.

"You guys do this every year?" he asked.

"Try to," I said, my lips and tongue too lazy and numb to form full sentences.

He scooted closer. "It's been a while, huh?"

With a half-genuine smile, I turned my body towards him. I didn't necessarily want to have sex with him anymore, but I did love some harmless flirting. I opened my mouth to reply, but stopped short when I heard a voice I wasn't sure was real. I craned my neck around Joey's form and my mouth went dry.

"You made it!" Phoebe exclaimed.

My heart sunk to my toes. I stood up instantly, smoothing down my pants and trying to keep up with my alcohol level. With my stomach twisting and the light sweat that was forming in the small of my back, I wasn't sure if it was nausea or a nervosity. Probably both.

Joey watched blankly as I completely disregarded his existence and stepped towards the foyer.

My mind was racing, my heart pounding, my cheeks blazing. I approached Phoebe's back and froze when I saw the figure in the doorway. He was here, in real life, standing five feet away.

Dallas.

I grinned when he looked up at me. For a split second, I swear saw him start to smile, too. But the expression was immediately replaced by his lips parting and his eyes wide. He didn't say a word, which only made me feel more anxious.

"Hey," I said dumbly.

"Hey . . ." Dallas quavered.

I was about to make some kind of lame joke, one that would have made Dallas laugh two years ago, or at least roll his eyes and smile at me. I would have hugged him, aching to feel his shivering body against my drunk-warm one, drank in the aroma of the cologne I hadn't smelled in years. Maybe we could have talked all night and he could refresh my fogged memory of the curve of his lips.

But instead he stiffened. To his right, in the doorway, walked a girl. A familiar face. I looked from her to Dallas and back, trying to force a welcoming smile. When I glanced at him, he was swallowing hard, looking like a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

"And you brought a date," Phoebe said, her voice trailing off a bit. The girl smiled shyly, holding onto Dallas's arm. "Hey, welcome in."

Unable to make another word, I turned around and shuffled back to the couch. My half-eaten try of pudding shots was on the coffee table. Without even thinking about it, I started sucking them down as if it would transport me out of this house.

I should have just gone home. Got drunk instead.