Damon’s eyes gleam with excitement. “I’m looking forward to it already.”
“Me too. It’s going to be the most perfect Christmas Eve ever.”
After a fun debate, we settle on a new Christmas rom-com, featuring a gay couple. It’s the usual city guy falls for the country guy and learns the meaning of the Christmas story, full of heartfelt moments, and nowhere near enough kissing. In fact, like so many of these films, it ends with their first kiss.
“No fair, it ended before it got to the good stuff,” I say.
“That would be an entirely different type of film.”
“Good point. We could find Christmas porn next.”
“Or we could go to bed.”
I snuggle closer to Damon. “Or that.”
It’s been nice spending the evening cuddled up to him. He’s had his arm around me the whole time, although he’s switched between stroking my hair and my shoulder. We’ve eaten popcorn and drank hot chocolate. I ended up with cream on my lips, which he licked off, which might have encouraged me to do it again when we got refills.
“Did you enjoy the film?” I ask.
“It was okay.”
“Just okay?”
“I don’t normally watch that kind of film.”
“Romances?”
He nods.
“I love them. It’s even better now I can imagine myself as a character in one of the films.”
He chuckles. “And which would you have been? The city guy or the country guy?”
“Oh, I’m totally the country guy. The one who teaches the grumpy city guy about the spirit of Christmas.”
“A country guy who likes expensive cars?”
“They’d probably be horses in the film and I’d own them.”
“Naturally.”
“Your car would have broken down. I’d have found you and taken you to my farm on the back of my horse, where we’d promptly get snowed in and fall in love.”
“And the credits would roll on our first kiss.”
I wag my finger. “No way. IfI’min this film, we’re getting to the good stuff.”
“It’s not PG-rated then?”
“No. This romance will definitely be an 18.”
He nuzzles my neck. “Sounds good to me.” He glances out the window. “It’s snowing again.”
“It is?” I sound like an excited kid. “I don’t remember ever having a white Christmas before.”
“Why is that special?”
I stare at him like he’s from Mars. “Whywouldn’tit be special? We rarely get decent snow in London, but getting it at Christmas is magical.” I probably have stars in my eyes right now. “It turns a good Christmas into a picture-postcard-perfect Christmas. When I was a kid, I’d write to Santa every year. I’d write ‘a white Christmas’ at the top of my wish-list.”
