5. Present Day – Christmas Eve
5
PRESENT DAY – CHRISTMAS EVE
JOSIE
C hunk’s kiss is deep and thorough. I tighten my grip on his hair, tilting my head to let him have all of me.
But where’s the zing?
Appreciative whoops from our audience sound out. They’re sold.
But it should feel better than this, surely?
His giant hands tighten around me, pulling me closer on his lap. I press against him trying to feel something .
Nothing.
No fireworks.
Eventually, he pulls away a little, nuzzling my ear. ‘You okay?’ he murmurs.
‘I think there’s an audience,’ I whisper as I shoot him an awkward smile.
‘No one’s watching now.’ He sits up straighter. ‘Do you want to go and get a drink?’ His green eyes crinkle at the corners.
‘Yeah.’
We untangle ourselves from our pretzel of limbs and stand up.
Wrapping his hand around mine, he gives a tug. ‘Let’s get out of here.’
Chunk leads me through the milling crowd. A few people say hi or give a wave to the party host, but we aren’t stopped on our mission.
Eartha Kitt’s “Santa Baby” floats across the jumble of voices and laughter.
I’ve been an awful good girl. The lyrics swirl through me coiling with my last tequila slammer. Think of all the fellas that I haven’t kissed .
Well, oops . Ain’t nobody hurrying down my chimney tonight after that performance.
I glance around for Ella, but she must still be off with Nate. And God knows where Scott is. He was right next to me, but after my little interlude with Chunk, he’s long gone.
It’s his loss , I firmly repeat my mantra.
He had his chance and rejected me, so why shouldn’t I pursue happiness with another guy? My gaze flicks to Chunk’s strong back, tracking down to his tight ass, snug in the Father Christmas get-up.
Shame it’s not gonna be this guy, though, because Chunk’s a freaking adonis. More like Daddy Christmas. A pang of guilt and something else shoots through me. Nerves? I hope I haven’t fucked things up.
Arriving at the makeshift drinks bar, Chunk holds up a disposable cup. ‘Winter Pimm’s? Beer? Shots? I can go and find you a proper glass, if you want?’
‘Beer’s great, thanks. The bottle’s good.’
He drags two from a bucket and pops the tops, icy water dripping from the bottom. I take mine gratefully, the first sip starts to soothe my fraying nerves.
Jerking his head towards a stack of hay bales covered in blankets, we set off for the quiet corner.
‘This place is still a bit rough and ready.’ He shoots a wince as he raises a hand out, inviting me to sit.
Dropping onto a tartan rug, I lean back against the rustic seat. ‘Ella said you and Nate had only recently started doing up the barn. It’s looking great so far.’
‘Thanks.’ He plops down at my side, one knee up as he turns to face me. ‘My Christmas party needed a bigger venue. Haven’t quite got my head around the seating, though.’
‘Hay bales and blankets are perfect.’ I rub the woollen material and give him a sheepish smile. ‘So …’
‘So …’ He quirks an eyebrow back at me.
I take a long draw on my beer, heart pounding. ‘That was some party game.’
‘Pass the grape?’ His eyes twinkle a kind of emerald colour. ‘I hope I didn’t overstep?’
‘You proved your sharing skills when you bit it in half.’ I dip my head as I smirk. Maybe I can make light of the situation and we’ll move on and never speak of it?
‘Didn’t want either of us to choke.’ He huffs out a laugh and then fixes me with an intense expression. ‘But I meant … the rest of the kiss.’
‘Chunk, I …’ I trail off.
I thought the opportunity for Scott to intimately pass the grape from his mouth to mine might remind him of what he’s been missing. But he did nothing. No, actually, he stiffened, recoiled almost. As much as someone can when they’re lip-locked with you. My confidence took quite the dump tackle.
When I passed the grape to Chunk and felt his hand draw me closer, his warm lips capturing mine, I remembered how lovely he’d been all evening. And I swallowed my half of the grape, thinking fuck it. Ella had virtually told me she was setting me up with him, anyway.
So, fuck it I did, and climbed onto his lap like a cat in heat.
But … there was no chemistry.
At all.
Chunk rests his hand on my knee, his large, calloused fingers rubbing on the surface of my jeans. ‘Are you okay?’
‘I …’ I don’t quite know how to tell him.
‘I’m sorry if I came on too strong.’ He rubs at the scruff on his chin. ‘I thought you were into it and then, I don’t know, it was like …’ It’s his turn to hesitate. He worries his lip, looking to me to take the lead.
I take a deep breath, searching for the right words. ‘Like … kissing your sibling?’
‘Yes.’ His eyes widen and a grin stretches across his face.
My shoulders drop down from where they’d been tense around my ears and a giggle of relief bubbles out of me. ‘Ew, twincest!’ I cringe at myself. I hadn’t meant that little observation to be said aloud. Freudian-freaking-slip. ‘Oh my God, so embarrassing.’
‘No, it’s not.’ He chuckles. Giving my thigh another squeeze, he removes his hand, running it through his dirty blond hair. ‘You can’t say we didn’t give it our best efforts.’
I press my lips together. ‘I mean, top marks to you, sir. Most excellent lip work. And just the right amount of tongue.’
‘Thank you. I particularly liked the way you pulled on my hair. Nice touch.’
I shrug. ‘I tried my best.’
We catch each other’s eye and laugh; I feel lighter as every moment passes.
‘No spark though.’ I wince, scrunching my nose.
Chunk slowly shakes his head. ‘ Nooo spark.’
‘But we’re cool?’ Please tell me I haven’t made things weird. ‘I mean, you’re best friends with my best friend’s boyfriend. I’d hate it if this got awkward.’
It’s an effort not to nibble the inside of my cheek. I really hope I haven’t fucked things up and made hanging out with Ella, Nate, and Chunk uncomfortable forever more.
He settles his gaze on me, suddenly serious. ‘Life’s too short to fuck around, Josie. I’d like it if we could be friends, too.’
I completely believe him, and the last tendrils of angst untether themselves from me. He is one friend I’d be happy to have.
‘I’d like that. Life is too fucking short.’ We clink our bottles and then take another sip.
‘Who’s going to break it to Ella?’ I scan the crowd again for my friend.
‘Nate’ll be devastated,’ Chunk chuckles. ‘Thought he was being a real smooth operator bringing us together.’
‘You think they know that we know they were trying to set us up?’
‘Not a clue.’ Chunk gives another shake to his head, the corners of his smile blending with the scar that runs down the side of his face.
‘Let’s not tell them. It’s sweet that they’re so happy together. They want their friends to be happy, too.’
‘Six years of Nate being single, he never got on my case. Barely six hours of a relationship goes by and he’s trying to set me up.’
‘You’re a confirmed bachelor, huh?’ I elbow him. Absolutely no give in his solid frame.
‘No. But I’ll know when I meet The One. Doesn’t seem any point in messing around before then.’
‘You think you’ll know straight away? When you meet her?’
‘Yes,’ he says simply. ‘There’ll be a sign, a feeling … a spark.’ Chunk offers me a smile, as if to apologise for not finding that spark with me. He’s a surprisingly sweet guy for someone so imposing.
We watch the crowd mingling in companionable silence.
‘Ella said something about Scott,’ Chunk eventually ventures. ‘He mess you around?’ The line of his jaw seems to stiffen and a flash of something fierce hardens his features.
‘Not really.’ I wrap my arms around myself. ‘We sort of had a thing, but it didn’t work out.’ Shaking my head, I try to pull myself together and not dwell on those memories. Being with Scott, there had been more than a spark. There’d been fucking fireworks.
‘No?’
‘He’s not interested.’ I say it to remind myself as much as Chunk. Even I can tell my follow-up smile is too small.
I don’t know how to break it to Chunk — his romantic notion is flawed. Sometimes it’s only you who feels The Spark. You think you know someone’s The One . You feel it in your heart, your bones — your fucking soul. But they don’t feel it, and instead they give you the brush-off with some pathetic line or other, then it’s just you and your stupid traitorous thoughts. It’s just you questioning every instinct you’ve ever had.
It’s always just you.
Chunk seems to be considering if he should say something or not, thumbing at the label on his beer as he presses his lips together.
‘You sure about that?’ He shoots me the side-eye. ‘Scott seemed pretty interested until he stormed out.’
I’m starting to realise Chunk always says what he means.
I give a feeble shrug. ‘Who knows what he was thinking.’ I, for one, do not understand how Scott’s brain works.
‘It’s his fucking loss, Josie.’ Chunk swigs at his beer. ‘Don’t you forget it.’