We Could Have Fallen in Love

“Good haul this year, yeah?” Jazzie said from her position on her bed, sounding enormously satisfied yet slightly drowsy. It was late Christmas afternoon. They had woken up early and spent the whole morning drinking hot chocolate and exchanging presents. Then they’d had a massive Christmas lunch, which SJ had somehow managed to keep in her stomach with an enormous amount of self-will, and now she and Jazzie were lounging around lazily in Jazzie’s room.

“Yeah, definitely,” SJ agreed with Jazzie. She picked up her present from Tom, an expensive gift card to Topshop, SJ’s favorite store. “I can’t wait to spend this.” She grabbed her mug of hot chocolate and took a sip of it.

“Yeah…listen, SJ, can I ask you a question?” Jazzie asked, sounding distracted.

“Go ahead.” SJ took another sip.

“What exactly happened between you and Dougie?”

SJ swallowed a little too quickly, and the hot liquid scalded her throat. Coughing and regaining her composure, she managed, “Pardon me?”

“I was just wondering what happened between you and Dougie, cause, like, he’s m brother, so I deserve to know.” Jazzie’s words came out a little rushed, as though she was worried about SJ’s reaction.

“Nothing happened,” SJ replied automatically.

“Oh please, SJ, spare me the bullshit,” Jazzie said impatiently. SJ raised an eyebrow in surprise. This was so unlike Jazzie. “I know you two had a thing over the summer. But Dougie never told me how it ended…”

SJ crossed her legs so she was sitting Indian-style on her bed and kept her gaze fixed down as she played with one of her many rings. She might as well just say it. It wasn’t like Jazzie wouldn’t find out anyway. “I kinda lied to him about something,” she said flatly, “and then he never really forgave me for it, I guess…”

“Oh.” Jazzie was silent for a moment. “I’m sorry.”

SJ laid down so her head was resting on her pillow. “So am I,” she said tiredly. She felt suddenly exhausted.

Another silence passed between them. Then, Jazzie spoke up again. “Er, SJ?” She sounded nervous. “I had another question to ask you…”

"Yeah?"

“Well, I was just wondering—I mean, I’ve noticed that, erm, over the past couple of days, uh—” She seemed to be having trouble spitting it out. SJ waited.

A knock on the door interrupted Jazzie’s rambling. “Who is it?” Jazzie called out.

The door opened slightly. “Everyone decent?” A boy’s voice chuckled. Then the door opened fully and Dougie stood there in the doorway, grinning. SJ averted her gaze quickly before she could think too much about how cute he looked in his red-and-green plaid shirt—specially suited for Christmas—and rearranged her expression so it was wiped clear of any emotion. “Hello, ladies.”

“What do you want, Dougie?” Jazzie rolled her eyes at her brother.

“What, I’m not allowed to come into my little sister’s room?” He leaned against the doorway.

“No, but I was about to ask SJ something important,” SJ said crossly.

“Well, go ahead, I’m not stopping you.” Dougie seemed to be holding back a laugh.

“Ugh, never mind…” Jazzie muttered.

“Sorry.” Dougie edged closer into the room. “So, I wanted to talk to SJ…?”

SJ looked up at him, surprised. She met his cerulean clear blue eyes for a quick second. Though he was smiling, his eyes told a different story—he looked serious. He turned away swiftly back to Jazzie.

“Sure, go ahead,” Jazzie grumbled.

Dougie paused a minute. “Oh,” Jazzie said. “Oh.” She smirked slightly as she stood up. “Take your time,” she added as she left the room and closed the door.

SJ couldn’t think of a single reason why Dougie would want to talk to her alone. “Hi,” she said faintly, unable to look at him.

“Hey,” he responded.

SJ paused. “What are you doing?” she asked the carpet.

“I wanted to talk to you…”

“About?” SJ played with her rings again.

“Well, first of all, you didn’t get me a Christmas present,” he told her matter-of-factly.

SJ’s head snapped up. Dougie was now sprawled on Jazzie’s bed, looking completely nonchalant. “Er, what?” she said, completely bewildered.

“You didn’t get me a Christmas present,” he repeated.

SJ felt suddenly defensive. “Well, you didn’t get me one either!”

“You’ll get yours later,” he said smoothly. SJ couldn’t help but stare at him. What the hell was he on about? “So, what do you say?”

SJ felt even more confused than before, and that made her snap. “What do you mean, what do I say? Just stop playing fucking games! What the fuck do you want from me?” She stopped, realizing she had said more than she had meant to.

Dougie gazed at her without speaking until she began feeling uncomfortable. Then he pulled out a piece of paper from his pocket. “I want this,” he said simply.

“You want…what?” SJ scrunched her eyebrows as she tried to make out what was on the paper. He stood up and brought it closer.

“This.” SJ took the paper and stared at it. It was a sketch of Dougie, done by her what felt like centuries ago, during the summer. It was permanently creased in the middle, as though it had been folded and unfolded many times before. SJ touched the almost-smudged charcoal scrawl—her handwriting—that said, I’m sorry, and felt her breath catching in her throat. She remembered this drawing very well. And she remembered that day, the day she’d left, that terrible day on the tour bus after Dougie had called her a “manipulative, lying bitch” and said she hoped she burned in hell. Before SJ left, she’d ripped out this sketch from her drawing pad and tucked it under Dougie’s pillow. She never wondered what had happened to it. She’d always assumed he had just thrown it out the minute he’d found it.

SJ looked up at him. “What about this?” she asked, her voice slightly hoarse.

“I want you to finish it,” Dougie requested. It was a simple request—all SJ had to do was finish his eyes and the shadowing around his jaw—but it was one SJ dreaded. She had no idea what kind of punishment Dougie had planned for her, but she assumed that this was going to be it. “Please,” Dougie said, noticing her hesitation. And this time his voice was softer and gentler than any time she’d ever heard it before.

“Fine,” SJ heard herself saying. “Sit back on Jazzie’s bed,” she instructed as she fished out of her bag her drawing pad and a stub of charcoal.

He sat down quietly and looked at her solemnly. For the first minute or so, SJ avoided meeting his gaze to save herself from awkward eye contact. She couldn’t help but feel incredibly antsy. This could not be any more uncomfortable.

“So…you’ve dyed your hair,” Dougie commented.

SJ looked up at him in surprise. “Yes, Dougie. And have you heard, the Pope is Catholic?” she replied instantly.

Dougie burst out laughing, melting the uneasiness between them. SJ had to smile when he did. “No, well, I’m just saying, I dyed it a while ago, and now you’re just noticing it?” she said incredulously.

“No, but…well, it looks nice.” Dougie flashed her a grin that almost made her heart melt. SJ looked down and focused on the drawing. She realized she had pressed down too hard on the charcoal and made a darker line than she’d intended. She licked her finger absentmindedly and used it to smudge the line to make it less noticeable. She looked up and found him watching her intently. “What?”

“Nothing.” He shrugged and looked down. There seemed to be something on the tip of his tongue, but he couldn’t bring himself to say it. SJ shrugged to herself as she continued drawing. A ray of weak winter sunlight landed on Dougie’s jaw line, almost making SJ loose focus as she tried not to think of how much she felt like kissing him right then. For the next five minutes, neither of them spoke a word. Until SJ announced, “It’s finished.”

“Yeah? Can I have a look?”

“Sure.” SJ looked at it before standing up. She’d drawn his eyes not the way they looked right then, but rather how she remembered them—sparkling with a mischievous secret. SJ handed him the paper. Dougie studied it carefully before looking up at her.

“Thanks,” he said simply.

“No problem.” SJ felt like she should walk away from him, but she couldn’t bring herself to. “So where’s my Christmas present?” she asked, struggling to control herself.

Dougie stood up so he was level to her. “Right here.” SJ was suddenly aware how near he was to her. She was close enough to him to smell his clean, faintly cologned skin and notice the slight stubble on his face. He glanced up for a split second and commented, “Mistletoe.”

“What?” SJ snapped, looking up right away. There was nothing there. She looked back down to catch Dougie’s grinning face. “Not funny, Dougie,” she said exasperatedly.

“I wasn’t trying to be,” he insisted. “I was just trying to—oh, fuck it.” He took a step closer to her, even closer than before. SJ could barely think properly now. He gently put his hand on her face and guided her chin up. SJ couldn’t break eye contact with him.

“SJ, it’s okay,” he whispered. “It’s okay.”

And then he brought his lips to hers with exquisite pressure and kissed her, gently at first, then harder. SJ felt her heart pound as she kissed him back. It felt nostalgic, and strangely right at the same time. His hands were now around her, pulling her closer, then traveling up her back to tangle in her hair. SJ felt like she was soaring. She’d missed this exciting feeling she got whenever he used to kiss her. With Dougie, it always felt different, it felt real.

Then, almost as quickly as it had happened, he pulled away. His breath was ragged, his cheeks flushed as he closed his eyes momentarily.

“What?” SJ whispered.

“I dunno…” His voice trailed off as he looked at her intently. Then he looked away. “SJ, it’s just that…”

SJ felt crushed. What had gone wrong? He had kissed her. “Fine,” she said bitterly, turning away.

He grabbed her arm and pulled her back. “No, SJ, I don’t mean like that,” he insisted, his blue eyes wide.

“Then what?” SJ demanded.

“It’s just, I meant to tell you…Look, I’ve noticed that…” He seemed to be struggling with his words, just as Jazzie was earlier. “You just seem so…I mean, you’re different now.” SJ stared at him cluelessly. “You seem so…sad all the time,” he tried to explain. “And…”

“And what?”

“And, well…” Dougie looked at her earnestly. “I don’t want you—I mean—it’s just—I just want you to know that I forgive you, you know? I don’t want you to be—you know, cause of me—”

SJ could barely believe the words coming out of his mouth. “What do you mean, Dougie?”

“I just mean to say, I’m worried about you,” Dougie told her sincerely. “I don’t want you to feel this way because of the way I’ve been treating you lately.”

SJ stared at him for a long minute. Then, the next thing she knew, she had slapped him across his beautiful face. “What the fuck, Dougie?” she practically shouted.

“What the—ow!”

“You bastard,” SJ seethed. She could feel her heart pounding again, but not for the same reason it was minutes ago. “You think everything’s about you, don’t you?”

“What—no, I don’t!” Dougie ducked to deflect another blow from her, looking clearly shocked. “Why would you say that?”

“Oh, I dunno, let’s think about it!” SJ said sarcastically. “So just because I seem upset, that must mean that I’m hung up on you. Is that it? You’re so fucking self-centered. Just because you’re in McFly doesn’t mean that the world revolves around you, Poynter,” she spat.

“No, SJ, that’s not what I meant!” Dougie looked distraught.

“Yeah, right.” SJ shook her head disbelievingly. Every word that came out of his mouth made her even more furious. So, he ignored her for months and acted like a complete bastard to her, but now all of the sudden he could pop back into her life and claim that all SJ’s problems could be fixed with a few simple words?

“SJ, I just wanted to say that I lo—” he started, but SJ cut him off.

“Just fuck off, alright?” she yelled over him. “Leave me fucking alone!”

“Fine,” Dougie said after a long pause. He turned to the door. “I’m sorry, SJ.” He looked upset, confused, and hurt—but SJ watched him go without another word. The minute the door closed behind him, SJ grabbed a pillow and screamed into it to muffle the noise. Then her eyes began to tear and her stomach convulsed with that familiar feeling. She slammed the door of the bathroom behind her as she felt the sick churning.

SJ took a couple deep breaths to try and steady herself. But she couldn’t believe the nerve. As if the only reason she was hurting was because of him. What about SJ’s dad, buried deep in the ground, who she missed so much it actually felt like a sharp physical pain? What about SJ’s mum, who still hadn’t even bothered to call and wish SJ Merry Christmas? What about the fact that SJ’s own life was spinning out of her control? How dare Dougie think that everything she was feeling was all about him?

Hot tears that SJ hadn’t even realized had escaped her eyes stung her cheeks as she pushed her finger down her throat. She gagged on reflex before it all came out.

When she was done she breathed heavily and leaned back against the wall, closing her eyes. For the first time, she was thinking that there might be something wrong with her.