Page 16 of Make You Mine This Christmas

‘IknewI didn’t like him!’

‘You don’t have to feel any way about him on my behalf.’

‘I’ve decided that I do. Plus, you’re way too nice about him. The universe needs the balance of me rightfully calling him a total arsehole if you’re going to be so polite. Seems like a good new-friend duty.’

‘To new friends,’ Christopher says, clinking his mug against Haf’s again.

‘Gosh, my nose is aching,’ she says, rubbing the bridge of it.

‘We did collide with a bit of force.’ He laughs.

‘Do you think even terrible kisses count for mistletoe duties? I’m worried we goofed it.’

‘Let’s just say it does. And, err, just to be clear—’

Haf giggles at the sudden awkwardness. ‘Don’t worry, it wasjusta silly mistletoe kiss here too.’

‘That makes me feel a bit better about it. Now I’ve sobered up, I was a bit worried I’d given you the wrong impression.’

‘The only impression you gave me was that you’re willing to go along with my silly schemes, which I like very much.’

‘Well, then, that’s good.’

It’s a pity he lives on the other side of the country, she thinks. This had been such a weird night, but she feels so comfortable with him, and kind of protective too.

She’ll be sad when he goes home.

And after that, what is there? Another few soul-draining weeks of work then a Christmas alone.

‘Let’s watch some shit telly, drink this, and get you off home to your old life,’ she says, wanting to hold on to this moment as long as possible.

Some hours later, Haf wakes up on the couch, her mouth dry as sawdust.

She rubs sleep out of her eyes and finds Christopher is there too, her legs slung over his lap. They must have both fallen asleep before they could call a cab. His head has fallen back against the top of the sofa, and he snores very, very softly. Exactly like a dormouse.

She slides off him and the couch and takes the detritus from last night into the kitchen, flicking on the kettle as she passes.

It’s dark outside, so she has no idea what time it is given they’re in the darkest bit of winter. There’s no clock in the kitchen and the microwave has resolutely been blinking00:00since she moved in. No phone in her bra either. She must have left it somewhere when they got home last night. Hopefully Christopher hasn’t missed his train home.

She doesn’t know how he takes his tea, so she makes two identical ones with milk and a hefty plonk of sugar, which they probably both need.

When she returns to the living room, Christopher is awake. And very, very pale. In his hand is his phone, which he seems to be scrolling back and forth on. A message thread is open on the screen, but she makes a point of trying not to read it.

‘Everything all right?’

He doesn’t answer, but nervously licks his lips.

‘Not regretting any drunk texts, I hope?’ she jokes, hoping to lighten the mood, but he looks just as grave still.

‘I wish.’

‘Cuppa?’ she asks, putting it down on the coffee table in front of him. ‘I didn’t know how you liked it, so I just made it the same as mine.’

‘Thank you.’ He breaks his horrified scrolling to smile up at her.

‘What’s happened? Are you okay?’ she asks softly, sitting down next to him.

‘Err, well. Nothingterriblehas happened. No sickness. No one’s dead.’