We Could Have Fallen in Love

There were a lot of things SJ regretted. A lot of things SJ wished she hadn’t done. And she probably wasn’t exactly the nicest person in the world, either. In fact, she kind of suspected that she was a bitch on occasion.

But still, whatever she had done, she did not deserve this. The revenge gods had without question taken her punishment a little too far for her. Because being forced to spend Christmas with her ex-boyfriend’s family was, in SJ’s opinion, an unfair and unnecessarily harsh sentence.

And she used the term “boyfriend” loosely. She still didn’t know exactly what had gone on between them during the summer. Was he her ex-hookup partner? Or ex-…guy she may have possibly been in love with?

Or maybe just two people who didn’t have a chance in hell now.

Whatever they were, SJ was dreading having to celebrate Christmas at the Poynters’. She remembered a time when she actually looked forward to Christmas—that was back when her dad was still alive, and she didn’t have to do this awkward shuffling between friends and family to find a place to celebrate the holiday. This was only SJ’s second Christmas without her dad. And she still hadn’t gotten used to it. She only wished her mother had cared enough to take responsibility for her only child, instead of throwing lavish parties in France for French celebrities. She could have at least invited SJ to spend the holidays with her.

In this current mindset, SJ was lying down in the backseat of Harry’s car, with Tom sitting shotgun in the front seat. The three of them were driving to Essex together, while Danny, Dougie, and Dougie’s sister Jazzie had taken a separate car. Thank God. SJ couldn’t imagine how excruciatingly awkward it would be if she and Dougie had to sit in a car together for about two hours. The seemingly heartless revenge gods hadn’t taken her punishment that far, at least. Yet.

“SJ, you need to sit up and put your seatbelt on, I’m worried a cop is going to stop us,” Harry said anxiously about twenty minutes into the trip, darting a glance back at her position.

SJ rolled her eyes, though he couldn’t see behind the Ray-Ban sunglasses she was wearing to try and shield her poor head from the sun. Or from any kind of light, in general. “Fuck off, I’m hungover.”

“And whose fault is that?” Harry muttered. “We told you we were leaving early today.”

“And If you weren’t drinking like a dehydrated person who had just come out of the desert, you wouldn’t be hungover,” Tom added, a little callously.

SJ rolled her eyes once again. “Thank you, Tom. You’re so kind. Your words just inspire me,” she replied with all the sarcasm she could muster in her painful state. “I can see why you’re the songwriter of the band.” Okay, now she really wished Danny had switched with Tom—he, at least, would have been sympathetic.

They got her hint and mercifully lapsed into silence, leaving SJ to drift off to sleep for the rest of the trip.

“SJ…” Someone nudged her gently. “SJ, wake up. We’re here.”

As though SJ was going to wake up to such comforting words. Still she groggily opened her eyes to see Harry looming in front of her. “No,” she said crankily, and tried to turn her head away and close her eyes again.

“SJ…come on,” Harry told her. She heard people talking in the background, mumbling things she couldn’t hear.

With great effort SJ sat up and rubbed her eyes. Her head felt infinitely better, which was at least a good thing. Yawning, she grabbed her purse and wiggled her short ruffly black skirt down so she wouldn’t flash the entire Poynter family as she left the car (well, she was wearing tights. But sheer tights, so still). She stepped out of the car, hugging her grey peacoat to her in the gust of wind, and looked up at the Poynters’ family house. And when she looked down, she met the eyes of that one particular Poynter himself. Dougie quickly looked away, but not before SJ caught the cold look in his eyes. It made her feel almost insignificant. SJ dragged her eyes away from him. Ignore him, ignore him, she told herself. But he still made her blood pressure rise.

They all began making their way up the walkway to the house. Danny lagged behind with her and they walked slowly behind everyone else. “Are you bloody mad, wearing tights in the winter?” he said to her.

“I’m not cold,” SJ insisted, and immediately shivered.

Danny laughed. “Yeah, right.”

“Shut up.” But she smiled and leaned into him, feeling warmer when he wrapped his arm around her.

At that moment, Dougie turned around from where he was walking up his front steps and shot Danny and SJ a slow, burning glare. SJ shivered again, this time for reasons unrelated to the cold, and instinctively pressed closer to Danny.

Danny frowned. The look didn’t pass him, either. “What’s his issue?” he muttered to SJ.

SJ shrugged. She could think of several things, mainly for one her even being there, but she kept quiet.

“He’s been acting really funny to me all morning,” Danny continued to her in a low voice. “Like, he barely said a word to me in the car. I just got this weird vibe from him.”

At these words SJ looked up at him in surprise. It made sense for Dougie to be mad at SJ. But Danny? That was a bit bizarre.

But all too soon, before she could have time to ponder longer, they were up the steps and through the front door of the Poynters’ family house. Danny let go of SJ to shrug his jacket off, and SJ took hers off as well as her eyes drifted around the front hall, taking in every detail. She had never been here before. It was a nice, spacious house with a delicious smell of cooking emanating from somewhere deeper inside. It was almost comforting, until she remembered whose house it was. Her momentarily feeling of ease deflated as her eyes focused on Dougie and Jazzie, who were both hugging their mother, Sam Poynter.

Sam Poynter released her two children and looked around at everyone else, beaming. Harry, Danny and Tom all surged forward together with choruses of hellos as they embraced her, too. SJ lingered behind awkwardly.

“Alright, alright, enough boys,” Sam laughed, and the boys let her go. SJ’s feeling of awkwardness increased tenfold when Sam’s gaze turned to her. But to her surprise, Sam stepped toward her and gave her a friendly smile. “Hello, SJ, dear,” she said warmly. “It’s a pleasure to have you over for Christmas.”

“Oh. Thank you,” SJ replied, feeling a little confused. Hadn’t Dougie complained to her a million times and over about how he hated SJ? SJ shook this thought off. Of course, no matter what Dougie had said to his mum, Sam would never be intentionally rude to a guest. Still, her welcome was a relief.

“There’s no use standing in the hall; come on in.” Sam ushered them into the house and they all trooped into the kitchen.

“Oh yes, cookies!” Danny, of course, grabbed right away at a plate of sugar cookies decorated with red and green frosting. But Sam took the plate away before he could take more than one.

“These are for later,” she informed him. Danny looked crestfallen. Tom laughed and grabbed the lone cookie from Danny’s hand and swallowed it in a second.

“Tom!” Danny turned to him, furious. “That was mine!”

“Oh, go cry about it.” Tom stuck out his tongue very immaturely at Danny as Jazzie giggled.

“Boys, please, don’t start,” Sam said exasperatedly, “Why don’t you go upstairs and unpack, freshen up until dinner?” she suggested. “Tom, Danny, Harry—you’re all sharing a guestroom. I’m sorry, with all your parents coming, we couldn’t give you all separate rooms. So go take your clutter out of the hall and put it in there.”

“Yes ma’am.” Harry saluted her as they all clambered out of the kitchen.

SJ was suddenly very aware that she was left alone in the kitchen with the three Poynters. Was this when they all pulled out metal pots and pans from the cupboards and threw them at her?

“—and SJ, you’ll be sharing a room with Jazzie. Dougie, why don’t you go on up and show her where it is?” Sam was saying.

SJ, who was a little preoccupied with the scene she had just envisioned in her mind, didn’t comprehend what had been said until a second after she heard it. “Oh. Er. No, it’s alright, I’m sure I’ll manage finding the room, er, on my own,” she said quickly.

“Nonsense, dear. Dougie, go carry her bag,” Sam said calmly. “Jazzie, come help me with the cookies. Dougie, why are you still standing? Move.”

Dougie threw his mum a thoroughly dirty look before making his way out of the kitchen without waiting for SJ. He picked up her light bag without even looking at her and made his way up the stairs. SJ followed him silently to the second floor, feeling more and more uncomfortable by the second. Dougie led her into a light lavender room with two beds set up and unceremoniously dropped her bag on the floor.

“Here’s your room,” he muttered to her, the first words he had uttered to her since the summer. “That one’s your bed. There’s the bathroom.”

He turned abruptly and left, leaving SJ alone for the first time. She sat down cautiously on the bed Dougie had indicated and tried to catch her breath. This was way, way too much for her. And there were still three days until it was actually Christmas.

SJ sighed a frustrated sigh. She stood up and made her way to the bathroom, feeling that familiar illness. Then, closing the door and locking it, she leaned over the toilet and forced herself to vomit.

Fuck my life.