Chapter 30 #3
I gave up and allowed him to flick through my content, trying my best not to blush or barf whenever he played a new video. Eventually he gave me my phone back.
‘You’re good. Is that the kind of thing you’re going to be doing in Toronto?’
I was surprised he brought it up first but didn’t let myself show it.
‘Fetching coffees, you mean, and vlogging about it.’ I snuggled in closer to his shoulder, listening to the lapping of the Thames and the giggles and carolling of the South Bank walkers.
‘No, I mean content creation. You’re good. And I’m not just saying that, with my upbringing I know good content when I see it.’
‘You have a high opinion of yourself.’
‘I am a Holland.’ He blew a raspberry. ‘However much I try to suppress it.’
I patted his warm chest to comfort him playfully, and he placed his hand over mine, keeping my hand in place as he ran his fingers up and down my knuckles. It was soothing, as if the lapping of waves had reached my hand.
‘The content’s only good because I’ve been in London. I was inspired.’
He grinned. ‘By a certain busker.’
‘Do you want me to get you a fishing pole.’
His grin widened. ‘You could…’ He shrugged. ‘Never mind.’
‘No, what?’ I pushed myself up with his chest, facing him, just inches from his lips. ‘What were you going to say?’
‘Just that you could leverage your following, and your content. Stay in London and… stay inspired.’
‘By you,’ I finished for him, teasing him.
His smile should be illegal; it was utterly mind-melting.
All my arguments for leaving – most of which had lost a lot of potency during Pim’s show and Christmas with my family – were disappearing before my eyes.
My decision to leave Pim was the right one, I knew that much. It was time for me to get a new job; one with progression and choices. But did I really need to move to Toronto to start again?
Originally, my intent had been to finally lay down roots, from which a family tree might spring. But this Christmas had proved I already had roots and, instead of pruning them, I just needed to let them grow.
‘I could…’ Simon seemed hesitant. ‘I could talk to… my dad. If you want? About a job, or a contact at least.’
I sat up even more, aware that at this point I was practically lying across him.
‘You’d do that? After all this time not really speaking to him? You’d introduce me, the girl who made him go viral for all the wrong reasons, and ask for his help?’
He pulled at the bobble on my hat until it fell off and my hair tumbled down my shoulder. ‘I would.’ He smirked as I tried to flatten my wild locks. ‘Not that he’s ever met any of the women I’ve ever… you know,’ he finished lamely.
‘You know what?’ I grinned, teasing him as a pink flush developed across his nose.
‘Women I’ve dated?’ he said, unsure of himself.
‘Women you’ve flirted with for a month. Women you’ve helped out, probably a bit too much. Women you’ve definitely connected with but don’t want to admit it,’ I suggested cheekily.
‘Women I’ve come to really really fancy,’ he continued on my behalf. ‘And don’t know how to admit it until we’re snuggled up in an igloo that I had to beg my friend to borrow.’
‘Oh, you begged?’ I teased.
‘I was on my knees,’ he said, semi-seriously. ‘Dignity be damned.’
‘Dignity be damned,’ I repeated, leaning upwards to kiss him before I even thought about it.
He met me halfway, his hand sliding into my hair, fingers threading through the loose strands as our lips pressed together, warm and certain.
It wasn’t our discovery kiss, that was our first; this was deeper, lingering, as if we were both trying to make up for lost time.
I felt him sigh against my mouth, his grip tightening slightly, as if he couldn’t help himself.
I kissed him back with just as much certainty, curling my fingers into the fabric of his suit, holding him there for a moment longer than necessary.
We parted, by an inch, when a group of men walking past began to jeer and wolf-whistle.
We ignored them but our cheeks flushed as we leaned back to look at each other.
Excited embarrassment, anticipation, nerves, and happiness flooded between us, crackling in the air like the fairy lights twinkling around us.
I fell into his chest, pulling my legs up so they were pressed against his. He let out a small, contented sigh before pressing a slow, lasting kiss to my forehead. His whole body relaxed, releasing a tension neither of us had previously noticed.
‘Definitely worth begging,’ he said suddenly.
We laughed.
I leaned upwards, already desperate for another kiss.
‘Thank you!’ I said, placing my hand over his cheek and stroking his warm stubble. ‘I haven’t said that yet. Thank you!’
‘Merry Christmas!’ he whispered.
‘Merry bloody Christmas!’ I folded into him like the ribbon that wraps around a gift.
Though we had to leave by ten so his friend didn’t get into trouble, at that moment I would have been perfectly happy sleeping in his arms in that igloo all night. I had never felt so warm, safe, or loved. Not since before my mum died.
It was a Christmas gift like no other, and one I never expected.