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The house was silent. The TV off, the lights off – just the Christmas tree blinking away in the corner like it was judging me personally. All I could hear was Jamie’s breath behind me.

‘Do you want a drink?’ I asked, attempting a casual tone and failing miserably.

He pulled off his jumper. ‘Aye, thanks. Just a soft drink though.’

Right. Of course. He was keeping it respectable. I headed through to the kitchen and pulled two cans of Irn Bru out of the fridge.

‘You sure your mum and dad won’t mind I’m here?’ Jamie asked.

‘Nah, they’re pretty chillaxed—’

I stopped.

Why the fuck had I said chillaxed? I meant chilled! Relaxed! Normal human words! I handed him his drink like nothing had happened, internally deciding I’d simply never speak again. He smiled, clearly enjoying my suffering, and I dropped down beside him, slipping off my boots and jacket. Before I could even get comfortable, he pulled my legs across his lap like it was the most natural thing in the world.

‘So, Posh Spice, what are your Christmas plans?’ he asked, opening his can and taking a swig.

I paused. I had no fucking idea.

‘Honestly, no clue,’ I said. ‘I wanted to be in my own place, but the way things are going online . . . that’s not looking likely. So . . . yeah. Maybe I’ll be home, maybe not. No plan. Vibes only.’

Vibes? Seriously, Harri. ‘What about yours?’ I asked quickly.

He hummed loudly, and I elbowed him. ‘Sssshh. Mum and Dad, remember?’

‘Shit, sorry,’ he whispered, immediately dropping his voice. ‘I usually go to my mum’s. Big dinner. Soup, obviously.’

‘Obviously,’ I muttered.

‘Then turkey, ham, roast beef—’

‘Greedy.’ I side-eyed him.

‘—and about six desserts because she can’t help herself.’

I snorted. ‘Fair. What about the community centre? Is it shut on Christmas?’

He nodded. ‘Aye. Most of the volunteers are with their families.’

Something in my chest tightened at that.

I thought about all the people who relied on the soup kitchen and what Christmas would look like for them without it. All those children who would remember Christmas as a struggle, who watched the pain in their mums’ eyes, trying hard to get by. The way I had done.

‘That’s awful,’ I said quietly. ‘What will everyone else do?’

‘We make up food packages for Christmas Day and hand them out to the families who are really struggling on Christmas Eve, it’s just a bag of shopping really,’ he said with a shrug, which I knew meant he cared more than he was letting on. ‘We can only afford to do it for twenty families.’

‘But is it a proper Christmas Day dinner?’ I asked.

Jamie glanced down. ‘It’s pretty basic, to be honest. And twenty packages are nowhere near enough, but we provide everyone at the centre with information on some of the bigger charities in town that will be open.’

I swallowed, my mood dipping. ‘I could help, I could open the centre. I’d happily make food for everyone. I know my mum would help.’

He gave me a look. ‘It’s a nice idea, but there’s not much time to get it organised now, and you’ve just said you’re still undecided about going back home.’ Right. Fuck. I felt a lump in my throat, my eyes stinging. I grabbed my drink, taking a sip.

When I looked back at him, he was already watching me. Closer than before. ‘Come here, Harri. I love how much you have warmed to helping out,’ he said softly. I set the can down somewhere vaguely safe and moved towards him. His hand came up to my chin, tilting my head, and we kissed. Slow at first, then not.

Suddenly, I was very aware of everything – him, me, the room, the fact that this was happening in my parents’ house, which should have been enough to stop me, but absolutely was not. I should have said something. Anything. Instead, I kissed him harder.