When the song finished, Nick leaned over. “Sorry I missed the meal last night…” Wow. That came out of nowhere. I’d made Mum’s infamous Christmas Treefle (chocolate trifle with a Christmas tree design on top of the cream, all covered in caramels), which Pete had at least eight helpings of. “It sounded great. I just…had to be…somewhere.”

There was definitely something going on with Nick and his family, and I felt like, as a mix of both in- and outsider, maybe I could be the one to help? But before I could ask any more, a random girl dressed entirely in stick brown bounced into us.

“LOVE THE OUTFITS!” She put her hand to her mouth and shouted, “Guys—we have the party winners, you might as well go home.” She giggled and looked down at her body, brown cushions attached, a sort of lid attached to her head. “This was the best I could think of. A mother-freakin’ Christmas pot roast.”

“Pot roast?” I asked, confused.

“Tell me you’re not British?!” Pot Roast’s jaw actually fell open. “Sorry. Little Bacon. You are TOO MUCH.” She stepped back, fanning her face, then looked at Nick. “And Big Bacon. Aren’t you the guy who just did the store run?” She held up her can of Mountain Dew. “I owe you big-time. This pot roast was getting hangry.”

“Sorry?!” I cut across her more rudely than I meant. “You ran to the shop?” THAT’S why Nick had been so long?

Nick didn’t make eye contact. Pot Roast punched him gently in the arm.

“When a guy’s on a mission for cream soda, and your party host has none, what’s he gonna do, huh? I’m telling you, this little streak of pork can run.”

Wait. Nick had gone for me? And hadn’t even told me?

“You shouldn’t have…” I began to say, but Nick had already turned to leave, saying something about catching up with Blake.

Wow—he was a master of avoidance.

I stayed and chatted to Pot Roast—she was Fred levels of funny and knew Elle too. Apparently they’d worked on a science presentation together, and she was as in love with Elle as I was. I showed her @OneElleOfATime—she didn’t have a clue about it, so she hit follow. It was weird: from Elle, I got the impression that people only knew her from her account, but everyone I’d met hadn’t even known about it.

But all of a sudden, a stressed Nick came over, keys in hand.

“Elle, I’m so sorry, but something urgent’s come up.” Again? If he was about to say band stuff, it wouldn’t fly, as we both knew they were all here. “I can drop you off, unless you want to stay?”