“Great, thanks,” I replied.
Oliver and I polished off our breakfast quickly before stacking our empty plates in the sink and heading into the living room.
“Ah, speak of the devil. You remember Oliver’s friend, Max?” Henry gestured towards us as we walked further into the room.
“Of course. Nice to see you again, dear,” the old woman said.
I smiled politely.
“Hi gran.” Oliver bent down to peck the old woman on the cheek before sitting down beside her on the sofa.
“Merry Christmas both.” She smiled cheerily at us.
My phone buzzed in my jeans pocket, and I slid it out, glancing at the screen.
BECCA: Merry Christmas, Max-a-million!
I smiled and tapped out a response:
MAX: Merry Christmas to you, too. How’s your day going?
BECCA: Great – yours? What are you up to?
MAX: I was invited to Oliver’s parents’ place. What about you?
BECCA: Just the usual at casa del Mum and Dad! Have you got plans for New Years yet?
I paused and nudged Oliver with my elbow.
“Hey, have you got any plans for New Years?” I asked.
“Not that I know of.” His eyes dropped to my phone. “Who’s asking?”
“Becca, from work,” I replied.
“Is she hot?” Oliver asked.
I cocked a brow. “You’re asking me?”
Oliver was well aware of my sexual preferences, yet he never missed an opportunity to poke his nose in where it wasn’t welcome. Sure, I had played at being straight and had even had a few girlfriends in my teens, but I had never been interested in going any further with them than hand holding and the odd kiss. It hadn’t taken me long to realise why.
“Good point. Have you got any pictures?” He looked down at my phone again, leaning in closer.
“No, but does that really matter?” I laughed. “Are you saying you won’t come if she isn’t hot?”
“Fifty-fifty.” Oliver grinned. “What does she have in mind?”
“I’ll ask,” I replied, my thumbs tapping out another message.
MAX: I’ve got no plans. What did you have in mind?
The response came through quickly:
BECCA: House party?
“House party?” I turned to Oliver.
“I’m down.” He nodded. “At ours?”
