Chapter Sixteen Alex
It’s strange how quickly you can become accustomed to the warmth of another person pressed up beside you.
I’ve never been particularly obsessed with the idea of companionship.
I’ve had partners of course, fleeting romances that have always ultimately fizzled out under some complaint or other about my working hours or, more than once, my personality.
But I’ve never minded waking up alone. Never minded a quiet home with nothing but my own thoughts to keep me company.
In fact, that’s what I’ve always strived for.
Being alone in my own space has always been the goal.
I remember being seven years old, sharing a room with three of my brothers and dreaming of one day having a room all to myself, where I could read and play without interruption.
Without having to share every single last thing with my brothers and sisters.
I suppose I’ve taken that to the extreme now, but I can’t say I don’t like the life I’ve crafted for myself.
Or at least, if you’d asked me that question four days ago, I would’ve said that.
But now?
Now, as I lay here with Noelle curled up beside me, I think I never want to wake up alone again.
She fits so perfectly here, seamlessly slotting into the mundane parts of my life like this is where she was always meant to be.
Just the sight of her right now, bundled up in my clothes, her legs draped between mine, the soft pinch to her brows as she murmurs in her sleep, and the rise and fall of her chest against mine, fills me with a sense of peace I didn’t even know I was missing. It feels like she’s always been here.
I glance over towards the window just as another gust of wind sends a flurry of snowflakes dancing across the glass. Yesterday the storm outside was powerful enough to make the walls creak, but it’s more of a grumble than a roar today. Less intense.
I sigh, half out of relief that the weather seems to be finally turning, and half out of disappointment that that means this is ending soon.
How many more mornings like this do I have left to look forward to?
Noelle twitches in my arms and nuzzles closer to me. Something tight in my chest unfurls a little more. I’ve built walls so high and sturdy around myself that I’d almost forgotten what it was like to let someone in like this.
Her soft breath tickles my neck, sending a shiver down my spine. I close my eyes, trying to memorise this moment – the weight of her head on my chest, the way her heart pulses in sync with mine, the steady rhythm of her breathing.
I don’t want to forget any of it. Once this storm is over, the memory of this will be all I have.
I could lie here forever, but reality has an irritating way of bringing you back down to earth when you least expect it.
Noelle’s phone suddenly erupts with all the urgency of a fire alarm, shattering the silence.
She stirs immediately, her entire body tensing as she rolls away from me and reaches for her phone, stuffed under the pillow she abandoned for my arm at some point during the night. Not that I’m complaining.
I’d take a thousand dead arms if it meant I got to wake up like this every morning.
‘Sorry,’ she mumbles, eyes barely open as she fumbles with her phone. ‘One sec.’ Her thumb swipes at the screen and she props herself up on one elbow as she holds the phone up to her face.
I roll onto my back, glaring at the ceiling and suddenly feeling like an intruder in my own bed. The warmth we shared is replaced by a cool draught as she moves away, back to her unofficial side.
‘Hello?’ Her voice is groggy but tinged with an underlying excitement I can’t quite place.
There’s another beat of silence and then, for the second time this morning, my bedroom erupts in noise. This time, it’s not the high-pitched ringing of her phone or Noelle’s own groggy greeting, but the sound of several people all excitedly talking at once.
‘There she is!’
‘Still in bed, huh? What time do you call this?’
‘Is that her? Let me see! Let me see!’
‘Merry Christmas Eve!’
And then, ‘Oh my God, everyone back up.’
Noelle laughs and sits up in bed, leaning against the headboard.
Her face lights up as she beams at the screen.
Her smile right now could rival the morning sun, and there’s a light in her eyes that wasn’t there before.
The sound of laughter, music and overlapping greetings grates on my ears but none of it seems to faze Noelle.
I glance over in her direction, not wanting to intrude, but my curiosity gets the better of me.
There’s a woman in the middle of the screen wearing a lopsided Santa hat and a wide grin.
She looks just like Noelle, with wide brown eyes and skin the colour of warm caramel.
The resemblance is uncanny, and I realise she must be Noelle’s sister, the one I heard her talking to the other day.
Huddled around her sister are several people I can only assume are family.
They’ve all got the same bright smiles, the same deeply expressive eyes, and I can practically feel the warmth and love radiating through the screen.
Noelle’s sister waves excitedly, her voice crackling through the phone speakers with a contagious energy.
‘I told them it was too early to call,’ she says with a playful roll of the eyes. ‘But they insisted. Well, she insisted.’
‘Because we’re about to start cooking,’ a voice cuts in. Noelle’s sister tilts the camera a little until an older woman is in focus.
‘Hi Gran,’ Noelle says with a soft smile.
‘Look at you, still in bed while we’re all up and about ready to start the festivities!’ Her grandmother tuts playfully, shaking her head in obvious mock disapproval. ‘It’s not the same without you, you know,’ her grandmother continues, and Noelle practically deflates in front of me.
I know it’s not my fault that she’s still here, but a wave of guilt washes over me at how obvious it is that Noelle wants to be with her family. I’ve spent the last five minutes hoping to extend my time with her as much as I possibly can, and she’s, rightfully, desperate to leave.
‘I’ll be there,’ Noelle says, and it sounds like she’s trying to convince herself just as much as she is them. ‘As soon as the weather clears, I’ll be on the road.’
‘Don’t do anything reckless now,’ her grandmother says, a hint of motherly concern slipping into her words. ‘We want you here in one piece, sweetheart.’
Noelle starts to blink rapidly. ‘Right. Got it.’
‘And wherever you are,’ her grandmother continues, ‘you’ll be doing something to celebrate, won’t you?’
I take that moment to look away as another wave of guilt hits me.
She could be doing something, if I wasn’t such a miserable prick.
My thoughts drift towards my impromptu Google search yesterday for DIY Christmas decorations and my drawer filled with terrible foil stars.
Maybe I could put them out for her? Or, I could go back to the YouTube drawing board and attempt some of the other tutorials I’d scrolled past. Surely it can’t be too hard to pull together some garlands made from dried fruit and cinnamon sticks?
Though I did say the same thing about the foil stars and look where that got me.
I try not to think too hard about the fact that most of these projects are aimed at primary school children.
‘Of course,’ Noelle says dismissively, and I wonder if her family can tell that she’s lying as easily as I can. ‘You know I bring the Christmas spirit wherever I go.’
Her grandmother hums and then I hear her sister’s voice crackling through the speakers again.
‘And what about Alex?’
Noelle starts coughing loudly in an attempt to drown out her sister, but it’s too late. I whip my head around again and raise a brow because, if I’m not mistaken, Noelle’s sister just purred my name.
My first name.
Purred it.
My heart skips a beat as I catch Noelle’s eyes darting towards me, a mix of panic and mischief dancing in them.
She hastily sits up straighter, her cheeks flushing a deep crimson that spreads down beyond the neckline of my sweatshirt.
I can just about make out the teasing glint in her sister’s eyes on the screen, and suddenly the atmosphere in the room on the screen changes.
‘Who’s Alex?’ another voice chimes in from the screen, and a ripple of laughter follows.
Noelle tries desperately to change the subject, steering the conversation back to their holiday plans and the food they’re preparing, but no one is having it. If anything, Noelle’s terrible attempts at trying to divert the conversation only seem to fuel their interest further.
‘Is he your boyfriend?’ a younger voice calls out, and Noelle’s sister dips the camera a little to show a gap-toothed little girl peering up at the screen. ‘Is he?’
Noelle looks like she’s hoping the bed will miraculously open up and swallow her whole. ‘No,’ she says firmly, and I try not to take offence. ‘He is not my boyfriend.’
‘Then who is he?’ someone asks.
The camera shifts again and suddenly Noelle’s sister is centre stage once more. ‘And where is he?’
I decide that I’ve heard too much. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Noelle so red, and it’s clear that this isn’t a conversation she wants to be having – much less having in front of me. I move to swing my legs out of the bed and give her some much-needed privacy, but then she sighs and says—
‘He’s right here.’
And then Noelle does the unthinkable. She turns the camera in my direction.