Rachel knew the groom—which was almost funny considering how she didn’t know almost anyone in this entire city. But somehow, she had managed to meet the groom while embarrassing herself by trying to pull of being a human gymnast in New York City. The invite hadn’t come to her directly, her parents had been invited and she had heard rumors that the bride was her dad’s ex-girlfriend and—Rachel had a headache. Telepathy or not, trying to keep up with the weird dynamics in the room, she floundered a bit. (And was confused as to why her dad was still talking to his ex. His taste in women, outside of her mother, had always been poor.)
Across the room, Rachel caught sight of Miguel and immediately was looking to run. Alcohol would have been an available choice—an open bar had been provided, but that would dampen her control and the last thing she needed was an incident here. (Plus, it would only prove to Miguel that she had no control over the thing inside her.) So, her options quickly dwindled down to outside and outside only. Rachel made a b-line for the door, ducking between people to avoid meeting his gaze, only to nearly clip Kitty in the side as she reached the door.
“I wasn’t leaving,” Rachel defended immediately. (It looked like she was, and she had thought about it.) “Just, outside seems nice. Cozy. Inside is stuffy.” Glancing over her shoulder, Rachel puffed her cheeks and then put her hands on Kitty’s shoulder, pushing her out the door with Rachel. “See? Outside is way better.”