Page 82 of Under the Mistletoe with You

‘Hey.’

‘Did you get much ...shovelling done?’

‘Yeah, I got quite far,’ Nash replies coolly.‘What were you doing?’

‘I went and filled in the community centre on our progress while you were cooling down.’

‘WhileIwas cooling down?’

‘Sorry, I mean ...we.Whilewewere cooling down.’

‘Mmhmm.’

‘I really am sorry,’ Christopher says, unlocking the front door and holding it open for Nash.

‘What are you sorry for, exactly?’

‘For being a miscellaneous dickhead.’This, at least, gets a laugh out of Nash.‘Are we okay?’

‘That depends.Are you going to keep being weird?’Nash walks through the door, and folds his arms, his head cocked to the side.

‘I’mnotbeing weird.’

‘You are.Though, given you have been, historically, quite weird, maybe I’m asking too much.Are you even going to shut that door?’

‘Christ,’ gasps Christopher, realising he’s been holding the door open this whole time.His fingers are freezing cold.He didn’t even notice because Nash is just being ...allNashlike.‘You could have told me.’

Nash smirks, and saunters past him into the kitchen.‘Just thought you might have needed tocool downsome more.’

But in the light pouring out of the bakery, Christopher catches the quickest flash of black crossing the path.‘Little cat?’he calls.He does thepspspspsnoise that everyone does to call cats for reasons he’s never understood.

But there’s nothing.The cat has gone, again, and it’s so dark that there’s no point Christopher standing out here in the snow.He’ll have to try again tomorrow.

‘I’ll see you tomorrow, cat?’he says into the empty darkness.Christopher goes inside, locks the door behind him, and follows Nash upstairs to the flat.

The aches of a long day set in as he climbs the stairs.He is bone-tired, and he can’t imagine how much worse Nash feels, especially after the added fury-induced shovelling.

The mediocre heat of his flat feels almost tropical having come in from such deep cold.Nash is in the kitchen, leaning on the counter, peering down at his phone.That complicated man who keeps surprising him.He’s handsome when he concentrates.There’s a soft frowning tilt to his eyebrows, and his dark eyes sparkle a little as they dart back and forth, filled with thought.And then there are his arms.

His arms.

Nash isn’t superhero-movie-star jacked, but he’s muscular and lithe, and Christopher can’t help but admire the strong slant of his back.

It’s a very different thing looking at someone in real life, even if you’ve watched them on film for what feels like forever.

He’s soreal.

What would it be like to kiss those strong shoulders?To bite into the muscle of his thighs?It must just be becausehe’s tired – gone is the willpower to hold these thoughts and fantasies back.He really should get a hold of himself.It’s not right to think this stuff when Nash is right there.

‘Who were you speaking to?’Nash asks, not looking up, and for a moment Christopher worries that Nash might have been able to hear his horny thoughts.He feels naked.In a bad way.

‘W-what?’

‘Outside.I could hear you through this very poorly maintained window.’

‘Oh.The cat.’

‘You saw it again?’