She frowned. “How are you still alive?”

“Through the efforts of everyday heroes like yourself.”

“Don’t eat the pink salad, either,” she said. “It’s shrimp.”

Noel looped his red tie around her neck and smiled at her. Which was different than a grin. “Thanks.”

“Thank you,” she said, pulling the ends of the tie even and looking down at them. “It matches my sweater.” Mags was wearing a giant sweater dress, some sort of Scandinavian design with a million colors.

“Everything matches your sweater,” he said. “You look like a Christmas-themed Easter egg.”

“I feel like a really colorful Muppet,” she said. “One of the fuzzy ones.”

“I like it,” Noel said. “It’s a feast for the senses.”

She couldn’t tell if he was making fun of her, so she changed the subject. “Where did Pony go?”

“Over there.” Noel pointed across the room. “He wanted to get in position to be standing casually near Simini when midnight strikes.”

“So he can kiss her?”

“Indeed,” Noel said. “On the mouth, if all goes to plan.”

“That’s so gross,” Mags said, fiddling with the ends of Noel’s tie.

“Kissing?”

“No . . . kissing is fine.” She felt herself blushing. Fortunately she wasn’t as pale as Noel; it wouldn’t be painted all over her face and throat. “What’s gross is using New Year’s Eve as an excuse to kiss someone who might want not want to kiss you. Using it as a trick.”

“Maybe Simini does want to kiss Pony.”

“Or maybe it’ll be really awkward,” Mags said. “And she’ll do it anyway because she feels like she has to.”

“He’s not going to maul her,” Noel said. “He’ll do the eye-contact thing.”

“What eye-contact thing?”

Noel swung his head around and made eye contact with Mags. He raised his eyebrows hopefully; his eyes went all soft and possible. It was definitely a face that said, Hey. Is it okay if I kiss you?

“Oh,” Mags said. “That’s really good.”

Noel snapped out of it—and made a face that said, Well, duh. “Of course it’s good. I’ve kissed girls before.”

“Have you?” Mags asked. She knew that Noel talked to girls. But she’d never heard of him having a girlfriend. And she would have heard of it—she was one of Noel’s four to five best friends.

“Pfft,” he said. “Three girls. Eight different occasions. I think I know how to make eye contact.”

That was significantly more kissing than Mags had managed in her sixteen years.

She glanced over at Pony again. He was standing near the television, studying his phone. Simini was a few feet away, talking to her friends.

“Still,” Mags said, “it feels like cheating.”

“How is it cheating?” Noel asked, following her eyes. “Neither of them is in a relationship.”