“At least I didn’t call you Mr Hilarious, because I’d have been fucking lying.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah.”
His deadpan humour flicked a switch in me, the switch controlling my base instincts. As the crackly radio in the chip shop banged out some Bing Crosby, I leaned in and kissed him, a soft brush of lips that didn’t seem to surprise him.
Rami kissed me back, light and sweet. It wasn’t the kind of kiss that matched the flirty banter we’d shared since forever ago, but it fit the mood and made me shiver. And, goddamn if I didn’t want to do it a hundred times over.
The scent of chips brought me back to earth, reminding me that we weren’t in a Christmas-themed fantasy land. We were kissing on the street of a rural northern village and even a hetero couple would’ve got some serious side-eye.
Chuckling, I pulled back. “Dinner looks good.”
“Sure does.” Rami tipped me a wink. “Where do you want to eat it?”
The playful suggestion dancing in his voice was another reminder that the simplistic beauty of a stolen kiss was a big fat lie. There was nothing simple about kissing Rami. It made me want to do things I couldn’t do if he was serious about walking out of my life again, and I couldn’t reconcile the two parts of myself. They didn’t fit. Or maybe they did, and that was the problem—that I didn’t know myself as well as I thought I did.
You know you want him. That should be enough.And it was. I just couldn’t…have him.
Not for one night.
Rami nudged me, bringing me back to the present. He’d asked me a question and I’d failed to answer.
I considered our options. It was arctic-cold out, but the sky was clear and I didn’t mind a bit of chill. In truth, in Rami’s company, with the kiss we’d shared still tingling on my lips, I barely felt it, and I couldn’t help but wonder if his undone coat and bright eyes were a sign he felt the same. “We could walk and eat? If you don’t mind chow on the move.”
“Works for me.” He passed me a bag of chips. “I went heavy on the vinegar. That okay?”
“Marry me,” I said absently, still thinking about kissing him until it dawned on me what I’d said. “I mean, for the chip-doctoring alone.”
Rami snorted.
I threw a chip at him. “You don’t think that’s important?”
He evaded my spud missile and stuffed one of his own into his mouth. “It’s important,” he said around chewing. “But I can think of better reasons for marrying you.”
In the split second it took me to digest that, he crossed the road, leaving me to trail after him, the beer bag swinging from my wrist. By the time I caught up with him, the moment had passed.
We walked in a companionable quiet, not quite silent, but without meaningless small talk too. I’d always known Rami as a man who didn’t speak without reason and that apparently hadn’t changed. He said things that mattered, and listened when others spoke. It was what made him so good at his job, and it was strange to see how his patience back then didn’t entirely translate into his personal life now. Or maybe I was witnessing the damage the past few years had inflicted on him.He lost his brother and gained responsibility for a baby. I’m surprised he’s not wrinkled and grey.
Not that I’d have cared if he was. The Rami Stone aesthetic was about far more than how he looked.
“You’re a dreamer.”
A chip hit the side of my face.
I blinked.
Rami laughed. “See?”
“I see you laughing.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah. You’re pretty.”
Rami rolled his eyes, balled his chip paper up, and stuffed it into his coat pocket. “My first comment stands.”
Of course it did, and he wasn’t wrong. Every school report I’d ever brought home had said the same thing. I shrugged. “Dreaming is good for the soul.”
