“So, we don’t actually know how you met?” Mum asks, blinking at me.
“Uh, I guess not.” I push my pasta around my plate and avoid eye-contact because I know what’s coming.
“Well, come on then, tell us the story.” Mum gives me an impatient look.
I look down the length of the table to Harry who peeks up at me with a small smirk.
“Maybe I should tell the story,” he says to the room, but his eyes stay on me, and I can’t help the tug in my lower belly from the heat in his gaze.
CHAPTER FOUR
“Well, maybe some things will be safe to touch after all.”
HARRY
“What are you wearing?” Jake looks at me with something akin to horror and I look down my nearly naked body to see what his issue is.
Okay, I’ll admit it doesn’t seem completely on theme. I have white shorts on that are more like boxer-briefs than anything I would normally wear in front of people. That’s pretty much it. Some white boots and a red scarf complete the ensemble, but the three black buttons drawn down the centre of my bare torso are what make it appropriate for my Christmas party.
“What?” I ask, unsure what he’s not getting about it. “I’m a snowman.”
“You’re a go-go dancer!”
I pout my disapproval at that analogy and point to the full coverage fur costume he’s wearing. “You’re going to sweat your nut-sack off in that. No girl’s going to want to touch you sweaty and red from fur-rash.”
“That’s why your junk is out? You want some poor unsuspecting girl to touch it?”
I roll my eyes. “First of all, don’t say it like that, makes me sound creepy—” He gives me a look that definitely says ‘if the booty-shorts fit’but I ignore him. “And secondly, my junk isnotout.”
He looks pointedly at my crotch but doesn’t choose to argue any further. The red lipstick my housemate painted onthe tip of Jake’s nose makes it shiny and honestly, I can’t really take him seriously. Between the nose and the antler headband, he looks—
“You look ridiculous,” my friend tells me.
“Youlook ridiculous,” I counter.
With this being the last year of uni, my housemates and I wanted to go out with a bang so any excuse to throw a party, we’ve used it. Christmas is obviously no exception. Jake travelled down from his own school in the north to party with me tonight before my parents pick us up tomorrow.
There are already a few people milling about in our living room. As he always does, Jake immediately starts chatting and making friends because everyone loves Jake. He’s smart, funny, charming and—I guess—good looking. I enjoy large groups, hosting parties, and making sure everyone is having a good time. But one on one with strangers is awkward, making small talk and trying not to make a dick of myself can sometimes be too much. That’s why I like to swan from room to room, not spending too much time with the same group, making sure people have drinks and the beer-pong table is crowded.
I leave Jake getting to know my housemate’s football buddies while I go to the kitchen and check the makeshift bar. Everyone should be bringing their own drinks, but we have a few beers and cheap spirits with generic brand mixers set up for people to use if needed. There’s a huge stack of large, red plastic cups, a giant bucket filled with ice, cans of beers nestled between the cubes to keep cool, and even some pre-sliced lemon for anyone feeling fancy. I take out the snacks we pooled together to buy so there’s at least something around for people to line their stomachs. Throwing a university house party does leave you vulnerable to people hurling in random places, so giving people something to soak up the alcohol will hopefully help. Or it just gives them something to throw up later, either way, it’s called being a good host.
My housemates all make an appearance in the kitchen over the next hour as more and more people arrive, I get held upin there, helping people find things and being introduced to countless people and making friendly conversation for the minimum amount of time before I can escape and move on to the next group. I decide to go find Jake again, as I have kind of abandoned him and make my way back into the lounge, which is now heaving with people. I spot Jake in a corner, talking to one or two of the football team with a few other people, all of them laughing and chatting merrily. He sees me coming and beckons me over with a huge grin. I can’t help but let some of my amusement out when I see the sweat coating his forehead. You know, because he’s wearing a fur onesie and it’s a million degrees in here.
“You feeling okay?” I ask with a smirk.
“Just peachy,” he says stubbornly. “Come hang out with us.”
“Uh, yeah sure, let me just…” I trail off as I look around the room to see if there’s anyone I should say a polite hello to only to catch my eyes on…an angel.
Halfway across the room, talking to my housemate, Abby, and one of her friends, is the most beautiful girl in the world. A vision with white-blonde hair that falls straight past her shoulders and tapering off at her waist. Bright blue eyes and rounded, high cheekbones flushing a glorious pink from the heat in the room, lovely pink lips glossed and shiny as they move lusciously when she speaks. She’s tall, slender and wearing…lingerie? It’s a white dress but I can’t imagine it was made for public viewing as it ends just before the bottom curve of her butt, demonstrated beautifully when she turns round to gesture at something the other side of the room and I see the pertness of her arse and the lacey edges of her underwear visible below the hemline. On top of her head is a fluffy halo and she’s wearing purple satin gloves. I’m frozen in place, mouth gaping wide, and probably a little drool hanging from the corner of my lips.
“Hey, you okay?” Jake stands, frowning at me with genuine concern. I may look like I’ve had a stroke. He follows my line of site, landing on the same apparition I’m staring at and jerks his head back in surprise. “Whoa, she’s hot.”
“Don’t talk about my future wife like that,” I mumble.
I feel his gaze swing to me, and he huffs. “Okay,” he concedes with amusement. “Do you know her?”
“No, but I’m going to.”
