He chuckles. “Okay, I won’t keep you up, I just wanted to be the first to wish you a Merry Christmas.”
I close my eyes and smile as that warm feeling spreads further. “Merry Christmas, Harry.”
“Merry Christmas, Angel.”
I don’t want to hang up and it seems that neither does he as we both stay on the line in silence. “I should go,” I say, hesitantly.
“Okay,” he sighs.
“I need to get some sleep.”
“Mmhmm.”
“My aunt, uncle, and cousin are coming over in the morning, so I need to be up early.” Each argument comes out weaker than the last.
“That sounds nice. You get on with your cousin?”
I bite down on my smile, tummy fluttering as he keeps the call going. “Yeah, she’s the best. There’s only six months between us and our mums are best friends, so we basically grew up as sisters.”
“So, spending Christmas with them is fun?”
“Oh yeah, there’s loads of food and drink and party games. You wouldn’t believe how competitive my dad and uncle get, it’s hilarious to watch.”
He laughs. “I hope I get to see that someday.”
My stomach flips. “How about you? Who do you spend Christmas with?”
“Just my mum and dad and Nel, we eat too much and drink. We’re not big with the party games, but watch cheesy Christmas movies, and the Queen’s speech.”
“Are you close with your sister?” I ask, rolling onto my side to face the empty side of my bed as if he’s there.
“Yeah,” he says, but it sounds a little forced. “I mean, she’s five years younger than me, so not all that much in common, but we’re a tight family, the four of us.”
“That’s nice,” I say over another yawn.
“Get some sleep, baby.” I can hear his smile in his voice.
“Okay.”
“Meeting you was already the best gift I got this year,” he says so quietly I’m unsure it was meant to be heard.
“Oh god, that was pure cheese,” I groan even though my heart is beating in double time and my stomach flips back the other way.
“What can I say? I’m a romantic.”
“Goodnight, Harry.” I shake my head even though he can’t see me.
“Goodnight, Lisa.”
I hang up and drop my phone on my stomach, trying to calm my racing heart. It buzzes and I pick it up again to find a photo of Harry, head resting on pillows, one eye closed, the other peeking open to look at the camera. Resting on his shoulder are my purple gloves, googly eyes and kissy lip stickers gone. Harry appears to be shirtless and all I can see is his shoulder under my gloves, but my imagination can fill in the rest. I remember the sculpted firmness of his pecs, the sharp definition of his abdomen and the comforting warmth of his smooth golden skin.
It’s not really my style, but I can’t help turning my lamp on low, lifting my phone above my face and blowing a kiss as I click the camera. My strappy pyjama top is pulled low enough that the swell of my breast shows and I’m happy with the glow of my skin and how my hair is fanned behind me, so I click send and put my phone back down, determined not to look at it again. But when it buzzes again, I tilt the screen just enough to see one word across the screen.
FROSTY:Wow.
Waffles.Batter coming to room temperature.
Fruit salad.On the table.
