32. Faye
32
FAY E
“Over here, on the right … this one.”
The sky couldn’t have been any darker when Bash swung his car across the quiet residential road onto the driveway of her father’s semi-detached house. Curtains were half drawn in the windows; nets diffusing the glare of colourful twinkling lights downstairs – Morris’ “leave the lights on a timer” trick.
After hours and hours, to go from the suffocating warmth of the car into the chill was a literal breath of fresh air. But Faye hadn’t worn nearly enough layers to bask in the frosty breeze caressing her neck.
She found the right key on her keyring and unlocked the house. The air inside was cold, which was no surprise – the house had been empty since a week before Christmas.
The hallway peeled off into a small living room on one side, a powder room on the other, and opened up into a large kitchen-slash-living room at the rear, all sparsely decorated with festive ornaments. What would be the point when nobody was here to enjoy them?
Morris and Ruth had moved here whilst she’d been away at university, so their house didn’t ever feel like home to Faye – as if she was yet anothe r guest. She’d gone from a home where Christmas was everywhere Faye looked, to this: a modernist, Scandinavian dream, and a strong pang of longing hit her to be back there with the mismatched sofas, plush rugs and old-style, cottage design.
“I’m starving.” Faye made way towards the fridge, hoping and praying there’d be something inside they could eat.
If they had to order in, then the likelihood of any takeaways being open nearby on this Boxing Day was zero . Even Baked By The Dozen’s doors, where she was supposed to be preparing for their reopening tomorrow, were closed.
Bash came behind her with both of their bags and set them behind the sofa that split the living from the dining area. “Maybe we should’ve stopped to get some food?”
Faye thought so too, after listening to his stomach rumbling for the last two hours. “I’m sure there’s something here. Dad never has an empty kitchen.”
She’d spoken too soon. The fridge was … fruitless. But the cupboards weren’t so bad. Bash set up camp on the grey sectional after lingering around it like a lost child, whilst Faye found a bag of porridge oats and unopened long-life milk cartons for breakfast in the morning. There were enough dry pastas and jars of pre-made sauce to tide them over for tonight.
A knock at the door stopped her rummaging for a saucepan.
Bash sat up taller on the sofa. Their startled eyes locked on each other’s, then Faye treaded down the hall to see who was there.
Perhaps the Grinch had come to take her away?
The silhouette in the front door’s frosted glass was backlit by the floodlight outside. A silhouette that was rather … tiny.
Faye opened the door to the five-foot-nothing neighbour she recognised. Her short blonde hair was now grey, but the same up-to-no-good look settled on the older woman’s face as always.
“Oh! It’s you, dear.”
“Hello, Mrs Papplewick,” Faye said .
“I’m terribly sorry, Faye,” the septuagenarian blustered. “I saw a strange car on the driveway, and since your parents are away … ”
“It’s alright.” Faye explained, “We got caught in the motorway backlog. Dad knows we’re here and it’s just for the night.”
“We?” Mrs P perked up.
“I think that’s my cue.” Bash came up the hall, and his hand that settled on her back made Faye’s breath hitch. Memories of his fingers being much lower last night were burned into her skin and roused awake every nerve inside of her at the memory.
Mrs Papplewick’s eyes glittered as they appraised him. “Hello there.”
Oh great, Faye internally groaned; another woman who was infatuated with him. Bash barely had to say anything and Mrs P was already wrapped around his little finger.
“Mrs Papplewick, this is Bash.” Faye gestured up at him as if he needed the introduction. She could’ve thought Mrs P had won the lottery with the way she gasped.
“Your father never mentioned that you have a boyfriend now!”
“Oh he’s … We’re?—”
“Pleasure to meet you Mrs Papplewick.” Bash’s extended hand interrupted Faye’s flusteredness. “ Sébastien .”
“Oh! You’re French.” A fact which lit up old Mrs P’s face like if she was thirty years younger, she might try for him.
“Oui Madame. ? * ” He winked, and Faye forced herself to not roll her eyes.
“We were just going to find something to make for dinner.” She set her hand on Bash’s arm and caught how he glanced down at her touch. No, she wasn’t trying to claim him back from a seventy year old woman. The little heat retained in the house escaped through the open door, that was all, so Faye wanted to wrap this introduction up quickly. “We’ve not managed to eat much today. ”
Pity swelled in Mrs P’s eyes. “Oh, dearies. You should come round to mine for some dinner.”
“Oh no we couldn’t?—”
“What’ve you got cooking?” Bash leant his shoulder on the door frame, slipping away from Faye’s hold. She knew that charming glint in his eye and tilt in his lips; he did it on purpose.
Mrs P’s lashes fluttered in return and Faye was tempted to just leave them here together. Pasta and sauce for one, coming right up.
“Well my daughter and her wife were supposed to be coming to see me, but they weren’t going to make it with the accident on the motorway,” Mrs P said, too proud to do so. “So there’s cottage pie, roast potatoes. All of the trimmings.”
“That sounds really nice. We’d love to come over, wouldn’t we, Peanut?” Bash looked back at Faye with a cocky smile. As if butter wouldn't melt.
She turned her head to him slowly, her glare meeting his obnoxious grin. He was up to something and she didn’t like it. But the sound of a meal which neither of them had to prepare themselves sounded good.
“Yes. We would.” Faye forcibly infused some enthusiasm to her voice. “Thank you Mrs Papplewick.”
“Right then. Come round in ten.”
Bash smiled cutely while Mrs P already wandered off on the gravel driveway. “Thank you very much. See you in a few.”
Faye shut the door then was on him instantly.
“What are you doing?” she asked through her teeth, lest Mrs P hear her through the door.
Bash slid his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “Do you want dinner or not?”
“We’re not taking advantage of my dad’s elderly neighbour.” She’d had enough done for her already this week, and after the way last night had jarred her emotions, Faye just wanted to eat, soak in a bath, and go to a bed where she might actually be able to sleep .
Bash’s shoulders inched towards his ears. “She. Offered,” he stressed. “What’s wrong with that?”
Ugh. “Fine.” Faye’d had enough of arguing too, and Mrs P expected them now, thanks to Bash and his stupid charm. “But stop flirting with her. If she tries to keep you, don’t blame me.”
“Jealous?” Bash tilted his head, his eyes flicking to her mouth as his own curled into a slanted smile.
“What?”
“It’s alright if you are.”
Faye’s rocketing pulse responded without her consent. “I. Am. Not. Jealous .”
She wasn’t. She didn’t know what she was right then. Pardon a woman for being annoyed that the man who’d kissed her like he hadn’t eaten in weeks not even twenty-four hours ago was now completely unaffected by her. Since he didn’t do or say anything to tell her otherwise. An hour ago, he’d evaded her questioning about that kiss to spare her feelings, instead of outright stating it hadn’t meant anything to him at all.
It took ten minutes of sitting at Mrs Papplewick’s dinner table before Faye clocked on to what Bash was doing; leaning towards her when he looked at her. Brushing his hand over hers on the table. Smiling. All. Of. The. Time.
She’d lost count of how many times he’d called her by the nickname he’d given her eleven years ago which she had no idea of the reason for; Peanut. She wasn’t allergic, and she didn’t think she looked like a peanut (also, should she be offended if that turned out to be the reason?).
Maybe she was extra irritable today – it was just a kiss, my ass – but Bash’s blatant, weird flirtatiousness, plus his refusal to acknowledge that there was something more between them now, wound her up .
“Stop doing that,” Faye hissed after Mrs Papplewick left for the kitchen.
“Doing what, Peanut?” Leaning into her with folded arms on the table, Bash gave her a wolfish look that knew exactly what she’d meant.
“Pretending we’re together! What if Mrs P tells my dad that we’re dating?” The corner of his mouth danced and her eyes slid there before Faye forced them elsewhere.
“So what if she does?”
This. Man. Was. Infuriating. His mixed signals were all over the place and it drove Faye crazy as much as the weight of his shoulder pressing against her own did.
She scoffed good-heartedly. “You’re an idiot.”
“I’m your idiot, Peanut.”
Faye’s irritation scattered in an instant. Her heart stopped and restarted, Bash’s undivided attention making her skin feel too hot.
No … He didn’t get to say that after acting like their kiss was meaningless when she knew that it wasn’t. Bash felt something for her, he definitely did.
“Apple crumble, anybody?” Mrs Papplewick poked her head around the doorframe.
Fine. If Bash wanted to play this unnamed game, then Faye would play it too.
She cupped her hand around the back of his neck, and before his eyes could fully lock onto hers, leaned over and pressed her lips to his.
Bash’s inhaled gasp caught in his throat, but he did the opposite of pulling away like he should have if she was just a friend to him. Swaying towards her, he returned the pressure of her mouth upon his, the bristles of his unshaven face tickling her chin.
So her strategy might have backfired, but Faye closed her eyes and poured out more meaning into kissing Bash than she meant to, all the while her heart decided to take off into a sprint. Her fingers curled in the hair at the nape of his neck and she felt the shiver that licked in turn down Bash’s spine.
As if “just friends” kissed each other like this.
She pressed a second quicker kiss to his soft lips before she drew back and acted as unaffected as he had been since last night, satisfied she’d made her move in his game. Though that didn’t stop the sensitive, aching feeling between her thighs and how she clenched them together under the table to ward it off.
It didn’t work, but only made her want it more. Leaving Faye with a trail of heat circling through her body.
Bash’s eyes were crystal clear as they widened then pinched and focused on her, but there didn’t look to be a single thought behind them – or maybe too many to dwindle down to just one. His pulse was fast and hard in his neck beneath her palm and her own wasn’t much better.
Something was going to give soon. Something would shift. Faye just wished that she knew what it was.
“Yes.” She smiled across at Mrs Papplewick, taking reverie in the woman’s scandalised look. “Crumble would be lovely.”
* ? Yes madam