Christmas With You

It started with a game of Scrabble, a triple word score, and a bottle of cheap wine. And I suppose if we’re being honest, it ended that way, too. But I didn’t like to think about it, or him, or even that night, so I wasn’t entirely sure why I was standing in the middle of Hamley’s staring down a board game like I wasn’t already running late.

It was December 23rd and I was supposed to be home three hours ago. But I slept through my alarm and then missed my train and somewhere between spilling coffee down my shirt and locking myself out of my flat, I remembered I never got my little brother a Christmas present. So there I was, in the middle of Hamley’s with a load of other last minute shoppers, twenty minutes away from missing the last train leaving Glasgow all so I could buy Trevor a lousy model airplane.

I was a terrible sister.

But he already knew that.

The woman who rang me up was the epitome of Christmas cheer right down to her candy-cane earrings and her Christmas tree jumper. It hadn’t felt much like the holidays this year. I was up to my neck in coursework and I hadn’t been able to catch one movie, or grab one of those seasonal drinks from the coffee shop. I actually quite liked it this way. This wasn’t exactly my favorite time of the year.

At least not anymore.

Outside, it had just started snowing, which was going to make hailing a cab that much harder. After standing on the sidewalk five minutes too long, someone eventually stopped for me and I had barely shut the door before he was speeding down the street.

The train station wasn’t that far, a few quick lefts and we were parked in front of the entrance. I handed the driver a few notes before throwing the strap of my duffle over my shoulder.

I should have known better than to travel so close to the holiday, but with finals, I couldn’t have left any earlier.

There were so many people that I could barely breathe and they all seemed to be huddled together, watching the time table like it was the most fascinating thing they’d ever seen. I glanced at it quickly, only to make sure that my ride to Doncaster was still on time.

Between the line for the toilet and the one for Starbucks, I was ready to go insane. And because I was such an impatient mess, I went to the small newsstand and grabbed a Coke because I figured that had enough caffeine and sugar to get me through my three hour journey. I grabbed a bag of Skittles and as I was tossing it onto the counter, I caught glimpse of the rack of trash magazines.

He was on the cover, grinning ear to ear along with the rest of the boys. I sighed because it hurt too much to see his face and it didn’t help that the caption next to the picture read: Your Holiday Gift Guide: One Direction’s Louis Tomlinson Dishes On What He’s Getting His Girlfriend For Christmas..

Thankfully, the clerk handed me my change before my curiosity led me to find out just what it was that he was buying his girlfriend. I could only hope it was some make-up remover because the minger looked like a proper clown.

It was hard not to be jealous, though I knew I had no right to be. But still, he could do so much better than her. And I’m not saying that I’m better—I am—but he had an endless list of prospects and he was settling for the college drop-out who worked at Tesco.

But like I said, I didn’t like to think about him.

And I definitely didn’t like to think about his girlfriend.

No one was going to Doncaster, not that I was surprised. There were far better places to spend the holiday. I was just happy I nearly got the whole train car to myself. Save for a man reading the paper a few rows back, I was alone.

I guess, in a way, it was both a blessing and a curse. On one hand, I didn’t have to fight someone for an armrest, but on the other hand, it was too quiet and all I could do was listen to my mind race.

It was easier when I came home for the summer, or on the weekends because the chances of me running into him were slim. But it was Christmas and he’d be home and how was I supposed to avoid someone who lived in the house next door.

I let out a low whistle as my head hit the back of my seat. The train started to pull away from the station and I had three hours to figure out what I’d say to him.

It hadn’t stopped snowing since this morning, a coat of white covering the entire city. It was too powdery to do anything but watch the flurries fall to the ground, which I’d been doing for three hours.

I was standing in front of my sink, lazily staring out the window and ignoring the pile of dishes my mum asked me to clean. There was something about this weather that made me want to curl up on the couch with a book and some hot chocolate.

My phone buzzed against the counter and I sighed as I picked it up. “Hello?”

“Wanna get snowed in together?”

I brought my eyes back to the window, staring across the garden and into the house next door. He had both elbows on his counter, a half-hearted smile on his face.

“When did you get home, you wanker?”

I watched him laugh and it was muffled against the phone. “About twenty seconds ago.”

I hung up my phone and went straight to the front door, not even bothering to put on a jacket before I sprinted across the drive. I didn’t ring the doorbell, or knock on the door, simply bursting in like I owned the place.

He was standing in the living room, that dopey grin on his face. He was wearing a pair of plaid pajama bottoms that nearly matched my own, an old t-shirt he’d gotten at a concert a few years back, and a grey beanie covering his head. I hadn’t seen him since the summer. He was off with the band and I was up in Scotland for university. We both had been far too busy, only having enough time to send a few text messages throughout the day.

“Are you just going to stand there?” He raised an eyebrow. “I think I deserve a proper welcome home.”

I narrowed my eyes, but there was no use. I was pretty much mush when it came to him.

I leaped at him, wrapping my arms tight around his neck as I nuzzled my face into him. He pulled me closer and all I could do was take a deep breath, clean and musky just like I remembered him.

“God, I missed you.” He mumbled, kissing my forehead quickly.

When we pulled away, we both sighed. Five months was a long time to go without seeing your best mate. “I missed you, too, Lou.”

We fell to the couch, my head resting on my palm as I started across at him.

“Are you ready to start the Christmas traditions?”

I laughed. “Cheap wine and Scrabble? The holiday wouldn’t be the same.”

We set the board game up on the coffee table and neither of us bothered to get glasses for the wine. Instead, we just passed the bottle between us. We’d been doing this since we were kids. Well, not the wine. The wine was more recent, but we’d been making up our own Scrabble rules since we were seven.

“How did your exams go?” Lou asked as he arranged his letters. “You were nervous about your PR class, yeah?”

I nodded. “I should have pushed my slag of a professor down a flight a stairs.”

He laughed as he placed a N, an I, a C, and an E on the board.

The conversation picked up after that. Lou went on and on about their UK tour and he was still pissed I’d missed the Glasgow stop, though he understood I had class. The way he talked about the band was the way a child talked about their favorite toy. He was just so passionate about everything they did and it was so strange that Louis Tomlinson from Doncaster was well on his way to becoming an international superstar.

“Yeah, so Harry and I got a flat down in London.” Lou said, putting more letters on the board. “Two lads living together with no supervision.”

“Sounds a bit dangerous.”

He smirked up at me and that’s when I realized I hadn’t taken my last four turns. “Hey!” I said and he was still grinning. I glanced down at the four words he spelt out before bringing my eyes back to him, my stare narrowed into a glare. “Your breasts look nice?”

He shrugged and took another sip of wine.

“You can be a real twat, you know that?”

“But I’m your favorite twat.”

I rolled my eyes and grabbed the bottle of wine from him before I got off of the couch, taking a swig as I walked toward the stairs.

“Where are you going?”

“Your room.”

I didn’t need to turn around to know that he was smirking. “You usually need to finish the bottle before you start taking my clothes off.”

My dad was waiting outside the station in the same car he’d be driving since 1989. He was a creature of habit and he was terrified of change. He wouldn’t part with the clunker, no matter how often my mum begged.

“There’s my little scholar.” He said as I fell into the passenger’s seat.

“Hey, Dad.” I yawned as he began to drive down the street. “Sorry I’m so late.”

He laughed. “It’s no problem, sweetheart. I needed to get out of the house. Your mother has been driving me absolutely mental. You’d think this was the first Christmas ever.”

Mum did get a bit crazy during the season. She was an obsessive compulsive perfectionist, so she was quite the handful.

“How’s work been?” I asked as my head rested against the window. My eyes drifted to the glass, but it was so dark I could hardly see anything.

“You know the life of a dairy farmer, Sonya.” He chuckled, turning down Silver Street.

I did know the life of a dairy farmer and that’s why I was at university. I could barely take care of myself, let alone a few dozen cows. There was no way I was taking over the family business.

I could see the house before we even got close to the drive. Mum had lights strung around every window and every bush, lighting it up brighter than the sun. I laughed under my breath as Dad parked the car and once he turned the engine off, I got out.

I took a deep breath, familiar air filling my lungs. For a moment, I was actually happy to be home, but then my eyes fell on the house next door and I saw the light in his bedroom flickering behind those old, dusty curtains.