Christmas With You

Trevor was our mother, just in the form of a freakishly tall, 11-year-old boy. I mean, it wasn’t so bad. There were worse people he could have taken after—our drunk Nan, the uncle who talks to the pigeons at the park, a cousin who likes to light things on fire, or well, me. But no, he was our mother and it was a bit much to handle at eight in the morning.

God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen (the Glee version) was blasting through the house as The Hanley Duo (Mum and Trevor) screeched along completely out of tune. If it was their goal to get me out of bed, then it worked. Because it was either smother myself with a pillow or get up and convince someone to make me pancakes.

I yawned as I threw my feet over my bed, padding across the cold floor and stumbling down the stairs.

I found Mum and Trevor in the kitchen, huddled around her stand-mixer as a cloud a flour blew through the air. I held back a laugh as Mum hit Trevor on the back of the head, muttering something about him being a nutter as she shooed him away from the counter.

I took a seat a the table and grabbed an apple out of the basket. Trevor snarled at me in that way that younger brothers snarled and I just rolled my eyes. “What happened to all that Christmas cheer, Ebenezer.”

“Mum can be a real gingerbread grinch.” Then he stomped out into the living room, probably to watch some claymation movie.

Mum finished mixing the dough before turning around. “Didn’t hear you come in last night, dear.”

I shrugged. “It was late and Dad told me to be quiet.”

She poured the batter onto the counter lined with parchment paper, her rolling pin in one hand and a cookie cutter in the other. “How long are you staying for?”

I sighed. If I had it my way, I’d be on the first train that left for Glasgow after Christmas dinner, but for some reason I didn’t think that would fly with my parents. “Sometimes before the New Year, I think.”

She frowned. “Sonya, I’d really like you to stay a bit longer. I never get to see you.”

“You could always come back with me.” I suggested. “A quick little Glasgow holiday.”

She didn’t respond because she wasn’t much of a traveler. Born and raised in Yorkshire, she never saw it fit to leave. She’s never been further south than Sheffield.

“Sonya, dear, can you run across the way and ask Jay if I can borrow a cup of sugar?”

I nearly choked on my apple and Mum sent me a funny look. “Can’t Trevor go?”

“I figured you’d like to see Louis.” She said. “Last I knew, he was your best mate.”

I stood up from the table and headed for the door, I grabbed one of Trevor’s jackets from the coat rack before stomping down the outside stairs. I knew that if I kept thinking of excuses, she’d get suspicious and I really didn’t want to explain to her why I hadn’t talked to Louis in a year.

There was always something happening at the Tomlinson house, and I guess with five children, that was expected, so I wasn’t really surprised at the amount of cars parked in front of the drive, or the amount of noise the walls were barely muffling.

With a heavy breath, I rang the door bell. I knew he wouldn’t answer. It was barely nine o’clock and he slept like a rock, but there was still part of me that was anxious.

When the door swung open, it was Daisy. I could tell it was her because she had a scar above her right eyebrow and Phoebe didn’t.

Her eyes lit up when she saw it was me. “Sonya!” She squealed and instantly had her arms around me.

“Hello, love.”

She pulled away and was grinning that same grin her brother had and I sighed. “Happy Christmas Eve!”

His room smelt like it hadn’t been lived in in a year and that’s all I could think as the opening credits of Love, Actually flashed on the TV screen. We were laying in his bed, like we always did. But I guess we weren’t seven-years-old anymore. It wasn’t hot cocoa, Frosty the Snowman, and footie pajamas. It was Tesco wine, the only Christmas movie ever made with a topless scene, and just a t-shirt I found in his dresser, because really, who needed pants. Traditions changed and we got older, but we never really grew up.

“Keira Knightley is such a babe.” I said and Lou looked over at me with a crooked smile. “What? Like you’d say no to her?”

He laughed. “She’s not really my type.”

This time I was laughing. In the eighteen years I’ve known Louis—since the day I met him at a Mummy and Me class in 1993—he’s never had a type. Once upon a time, he wasn’t apart of the biggest boy band in the world. Once upon a time, he didn’t have girls chasing after him. Once upon a time, he was the lad who got with the first girl who said yes.

“I forgot how good it feels to lay in my bed.” Lou sighed, adjusting himself next to me.

“Oh, I’m sure those five star hotels were just awful.” I teased, turning onto my side to face him. I watched him twist around, his nose nearly touching mine as he smiled. “How were the States?”

He had to think for a moment, but eventually he grinned. “Mental.” He laughed. “I can’t believe… This is my life.”

I couldn’t think of anyone who deserved it more. I mean, he was just a good person. He put his sisters before himself. When I asked him to jump, he usually asked how high. He was my best mate. I couldn’t ask for much more.

“I’m glad to be back, though.” He said, that smile widening across his face. “I missed you quite a bit.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He nodded and soon, his lips brushed against mine and all I could do was close my eyes.

We were best friends. At least, that’s what I kept telling myself every time we drank a little too much and ended up tangled between his sheets, or my sheets, or in the back of his car, or even in the bathroom of some posh London hotel. Simply best friends. Nothing more.

“How about that proper welcome home?” He whispered against my ear. I felt him shift his weight on top of me, his lips traveling down my jaw and over my lips. I let out a low groan that got caught in his throat as my hands moved to the back of his neck, my fingers lost in his hair.

I couldn’t remember when this started. It could have been any number of nights in Sixth Form, after a party and too much beer. I guess it was just easy. We’d spend a couple of hours together. He’d drive me home and then we’d see each other in class and pretend it never happened. And the next weekend—when it would happen again—we’d do the same thing. And though we were long out of Sixth Form—I was in University and he was traipsing around the world—it was still easy.

No strings attached sex.

Was there anything better?

“You missed me quite a lot, yeah?” I said breathlessly and the second his teeth nipped at my neck, I gasped.

“Couldn’t. Stop. Thinking. About. You.”

I laughed as his fingers crawled under my shirt. “Thinking about me? Or thinking about fucking me?”

I felt him grin into me and that was answer enough.

I didn’t have a lot of casual sex—it was just him, so I didn’t know what the normal protocol was. The movies made it out to be this quick and painless thing. You shag and then you leave. That’s what it was supposed to be like.

But Lou and I laid there for hours. And there wasn’t much talking. It was enough just to feel his chest cave in and out against my back. It was our own kind of normal. He’d trace circles over my stomach because he knew it made me giggle. And I’d brush my leg against his because I knew just how ticklish he was. It wasn’t perfect, but it was us.

I let out a heavy sigh as I nuzzled into the pillow, my eyes catching the neon green glow of his alarm clock. It was 1:46 in the morning and I wasn’t even a little tired. “Lou?”

“Mmm?” He mumbled back, his chin against my shoulder.

“Happy Birthday.”

After I coaxed Daisy into getting me some sugar—not before declining her offer to come inside—I went home and Mum finished making the cookies. I spent the rest of the day on the couch opposite of Trevor, half paying attention to whatever movie he was watching and half wishing I was back in Glasgow.

Mum came into the living room around half five, dressed to the nines in some little black dress that I was sure she picked up in the Junior section of Top Shop. “Sonya, why aren’t you dressed?”

I raised an eyebrow. “I hadn’t planned on leaving the house.”

She placed both hands on her hips. “It’s Christmas Eve. You know we go down to the Peterson’s house. We’ve been going since you were little.”

I groaned, pushing myself further into the cushion. I guess the only downfall of living on such a close-knit street were the holiday parties you were expected to attend. I got lucky last year, or I suppose not really lucky, but Mrs Peterson’s mother fell ill and the party was canceled.

“You’ve got fifteen minutes, Sonya.”

I never really minded going to these parties before. I actually quite liked them. But I knew that Louis would be there because he mother was as relentless as mine.

“But, Mum—“

“Sonya, get dressed.”

I ran up the stairs, a pout on my face as I walked into my room. I grabbed a cream-colored collared dress from my closet and put a red blazer on top of it before throwing on some black ankle boots.

My family was waiting by the door when I got back downstairs. Mum was taping her foot impatiently and I just rolled my eyes before heading outside.

It was cold, which was the only thing you could expect for December in Doncaster. And the only thing I could think about as we walked down the street was that it was Christmas Eve and it was his birthday and at some point, I would have to see him.