Straighter than Parallel Parking

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The entire group, the initial one that went back more than a year, was sitting at a booth, save for Janice and James. There were two boys (here she thought she was immune to good looks; silly girl) sitting at the table, both of them smiling at the South Asian girl's enthusiasm and their approaching friend. They had not yet noticed Janice standing awkwardly to the side.

There were Moira, Reneé, Tiffany and Brielle that she recognized, and two others that she didn't, one being the former girl who had shouted James's name.

"Anha, how you doing?" James said, leaning in to give her a hug, whom returned it gladly. "Hey, guys, sorry it took so long. My car partner decided that my music taste was too mainstream-- yeah, I know right? Biebs all the way -- and fought with me over the radio the entire time. Everyone, meet my very picky melophile, Janice."

Janice stepped up and tried to mask her worry behind a bright smile, thankful that James is handling the introductions. "Janice, this is the group of losers I am ashamed to call my friends."

"Just for that, you're buying your own pizza," a boy with midnight hair and indigo eyes exclaimed, before turning towards Janice with a flirtatious smile. "Hullo. You're even more gorgeous in person, sweetheart."

Everyone let out a groan at his antics, but he pretended to ignore them. Janice just stifled a smile, wanting to see how this would go. "How about we get our own table, just the two of us?"

"How about if that happens, I go to the restroom and never come back?" Janice replied, pleased to hear everyone sniggering.

"Ignore him, Robin's just the type of guy who can't keep it in his pants," James said to her quietly, before moving a little over into the huge reserved booth to make room for her.

The group noticed this gesture, and while it might seem like an insignificant thing normal friends would do, James's mates understood him well enough to know that while he was a nice guy, he couldn't do chivalry even if his life depended on it. He might claim to be a gentleman, but that guy usually caught his finger opening a drawer, stubbed a toe trying to walk on smooth pavement and, this clumsy ox, often banged his head when entering a room -- though he blames the latter on low rise ceilings and bloody genetics).

But it wasn't like Janice was a lady, so it worked (like how Janice didn't notice that James broke a fingernail holding a goddamn door open).

James cleared his throat, drawing everyone back to him. "Now, can we let Janice talk without someone hitting on her next? Reneé, looking at you and your heart eyes. It's not even Woman Crush Wednesday yet."

"Hey!" Reneé exclaimed. "You watch your big mouth, wise guy, or Im'ma drop hot pizza on you."

He dared her with a single look, but remained quiet so that Janice could speak.

Janice took a calming breath to compose herself. "Well, I'm Janice. Short bio of my life, my last name means 'devil' and I plan to live up to that. I have three brother's, I grew up with a Latino culture, I work at Victoria's Secret, and if I ever have to see lace thongs ever again, I'm most definitely going to lose more than my paycheque."

Instantaneously, Janice was liked. She had a sharp mouth but she had this type of mystique vibe about her, its own gravitational pull.

"So, Janice, what made you go for the job at the store, anyways?" Anha asked her, and Janice liked her no-nonsense, straight to the point, arrow-like attitude. "Because I'm going to hope it wasn't the wall to wall model's covering the store, unless you're into that type of thing like Renée."

Renée smacked Anha's head for that, but they were both smiling. 

Janice pretended to shudder, allowing Anha to grin openly at her obvious distaste. "Trust me, that was not it. I just saw the "HIRING" sign and walked in. I didn't even realize what the hell the store was manufacturing until I talked to Brielle and got the job. Probably should've thought about the underwear before I got buried in too quick, though."