You sink deeper into the couch as the hockey game fills the apartment with skates scraping ice, sticks cracking together, and an announcer getting far too excited about a neutral-zone turnover.
Jake occupies the other end of the couch, compact and muscular beneath a fitted T-shirt, one hand wrapped around a beer. Brian has claimed the armchair, long legs stretched toward the coffee table. Tyrone and DeShawn sit on floor cushions between the couch and television.
Pizza boxes, bottles, chips, and hot sauce cover nearly every available inch of the table.
"That was hooking."
Brian gestures at the television.
"No chance."
Jake adjusts his glasses.
"Your understanding of hockey remains deeply embarrassing."
"Coming from the guy who spent ten minutes explaining icing last week?"
DeShawn laughs.
"He's got you there."
Tyrone raises his beer.
"Thanksgiving miracle."
You grin and reach for another slice of pizza.
> You - Inner thoughts: Homework was supposed to happen today. That plan died hours ago.
Rain streaks the balcony doors behind the television. Outside, Vancouver is gray and wet. Inside, the apartment is warm, loud, and comfortable.
Then you notice something strange.
Zoe has been quiet.
Too quiet.
Her bedroom door has been closed for almost an hour. Every few minutes there has been some suspicious noise from the hallway: drawers opening, fabric rustling, something metallic hitting the floor.
A few minutes earlier, everyone heard her shout that she was fine.
Nobody investigated.
You have lived with Zoe long enough to know better.
The hockey game cuts to commercial.
Then a tiny bell jingles from the hallway.
Jake slowly turns his head.
"What was that?"
The bell jingles again.
Zoe steps out of her bedroom.
The room falls silent.
She is wearing what can only be described as a deliberately provocative Thanksgiving turkey costume.
Brown bikini, and feathers fan dramatically behind her. A tiny feathered headpiece sits crookedly over her aqua pixie cut, and her golden eyes glitter with the unmistakable expression she gets whenever she has decided to turn somebody else's evening into an event.
She also has a small brass bell on an orange chocker.
Of course she is.
DeShawn slowly lowers his beer.
"No."
Zoe puts one hand on her hip.
"No?"
"No way you spent Thanksgiving afternoon making a sexy turkey costume."
"First of all, rude."
She gives the feathers an offended little shake.
"Second, I spent most of yesterday making it."
Jake removes his glasses, cleans them, and puts them back on.
"Unfortunately, that did not help."
Zoe beams.
"Thank you."
She begins crossing the living room toward you.
Not walking.
Strutting.
Every step is absurdly theatrical, hips swaying while the feathered tail bobs behind her.
Brian immediately starts laughing.
"What is happening?"
"Tradition."
Zoe stops directly in front of you.
She looks down at you with exaggerated seriousness.
"Do you know what day it is?"
"Monday?"
Her eyes narrow.
"Don't ruin my setup."
"Thanksgiving."
"Exactly."
She leans closer.
Her voice becomes soft, low, and deliberately seductive.
"And I've realized something terrible."
"What?"
"This bird..."
She pauses long enough that everyone in the room knows exactly what is coming.
"...needs to get stuffed."
Silence.
DeShawn folds forward laughing.
Jake covers his face.
Brian nearly spills his beer.
Tyrone closes his eyes for one long second.
> You - Inner thoughts: There it is. The Zoe Tempest disaster of the day.
You look up at her.
"You made the entire costume for that joke?"
"Absolutely not."
She smiles slowly.
"The joke is just the appetizer."
That changes the atmosphere.
Brian notices first.
He clears his throat and starts standing.
"Well. In that case, I think that's our cue."
"Yep."
Jake immediately reaches for his sweatshirt.
"Excellent game. Great pizza."
DeShawn rises too.
"Happy Thanksgiving, you two."
Tyrone starts pushing himself to his feet.
Zoe straightens.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa."
Everyone stops.
"Where are you going?"
Brian points toward the door.
"Giving you privacy?"
Zoe blinks.
"Why?"
Jake stares at her.
"Because you just propositioned your roommate while dressed as Thanksgiving dinner."
"I did."
She looks around the room.
"But apparently I wasn't clear."
Zoe slowly turns, letting her gaze travel over Brian, Jake, Tyrone, and DeShawn.
Then she looks back at you.
"I wasn't only talking to you."
The room becomes very still.
DeShawn's eyebrows climb.
"Oh."
"Yes."
Brian looks at you, then at Zoe.
"You're serious?"
For once, Zoe's expression softens beneath the comedy.
"Completely. This bird wants all her holes stuffed."
She points at Tyrone and DeShawn, then at Brian and Jake.
"I want both white and dark meat this Thanksgiving."
She looks around at all four men.
"But nobody is doing anything unless everybody actually wants to."
Then her attention settles on you.
The teasing returns almost immediately.
"Consent first, chaos second."
Tyrone gives a quiet laugh.
"That sounds like something you have written on a wall somewhere."
"Not yet."
Zoe steps between your knees.
She lowers herself just enough to bring her face closer to yours.
The ridiculous feathers frame her like some kind of deranged Thanksgiving showgirl.
"You and I have tried plenty of things."
Her smile grows.
"But we've never invented a holiday tradition."
She holds out her hand.
Behind her, the others remain frozen between disbelief and curiosity.
Zoe wiggles her fingers impatiently.
"So, you..."
Her golden eyes lock onto yours.
"Want to help me start a new Thanksgiving Day tradition?"
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