I pick the walnut out of the shell and pop it in my mouth, and when I look back, James is still watching me with heavy eyes and a sleepy smile. I take a walnut from the vending machine on my way out and he makes a noise and scrunches the fingers of his hand so I grab another one and go back to stand next to him.
I deposit both nuts in his hand. ‘Your turn.’
Instead of going to the nutcracker, he positions the seam of both nuts against each other in his good hand and presses them together, using just enough force to shatter the shells. He holds one out to me.
My eyes go wide. I had no idea that was possible. ‘That’s an impressive party trick.’
‘Guess you could say I’m a real nutcracker.’
I choke on said nut. Why does he keep coming out with this stuff? As soon as I’m certain that he’s really, really real, he says something like that. ‘Aren’t you going to make a wish?’
‘I don’t need to.’ He swallows his walnut and looks me directly in the eyes. ‘Mine already came true.’
I go hot all over and my traitorous knees threaten to give out at the idea that he means what I so desperately hope he means.
‘Nee, that first night in the storeroom. I wished for someone to l—’ He corrects himself quickly before he says the “l” word. ‘To care about me, and you haven’t stopped looking after me since.’ He presses his lips together but they still twitch towards a smile, and I realise I’ve stopped breathing and have to gasp for air.
‘Do you know how much I love that advent calendar? And it’s not because of the chocolate – it’s because every morning when I open a door, I think of you. The moment I met you, it was like something unclenched in my chest. I’ve never felt so instantly comfortable with someone. I’ve never been so instantly at home with someone. From that night in the storeroom, I’d have felt like I was cheating on you if I’d even looked at someone else, which would’ve been a complete impossibility because you’ve occupied my every thought since then.’
It’s not just me. That’s all I can think as he reaches out and entangles his fingers with mine again. I’m not sure there’s been a fraction of a second that I haven’t spent thinking about James in the past few weeks. He feels it too. My joy must reflect in my smile because I don’t realise how tense his shoulders were until they drop with relief and he pulls me closer.
My brain has turned to mush and my hand has landed on his neck, making him shiver as my nails run over his skin, and I’ve ended up with my back against the fence, my other hand in his hair, his broken arm around me between the fence and my back, holding me tight to him, his good arm around one shoulder, holding the side of my face, his thumb brushing my jaw.
Our foreheads are pressed together, our noses alongside each other’s, sharing each breath as he whispers, ‘Can I ask you something?’
I nod minutely. I’ve never needed anything more than I need him to kiss me. My whole body is on fire with anticipation and I think I’m going to burst if he doesn’t get on with it.
‘Just so you know it’s an option, but are you going to punch me in the ribs if I kiss you?’
I let out a marginally deranged burst of laughter. ‘Oh my God, James, I’m going to punch you in the ribs if you don’t—’
His lips are on mine before I can finish the sentence.
I tilt my head up to meet him, and even though I was more than expecting the kiss, I let out a whimper at how good it feels when our lips finally connect. I’ve spent a not-insignificant amount of time imagining what it would be like to kiss James, but nothing prepares me for the onslaught of feelings that flood through me.
It’s ridiculously soft at first, so infuriatingly gentle, the sexually charged equivalent of that kiss at the side of my mouth the other day. His lips melt against mine, and it’s such a relief after so long that it takes all my willpower to stay on my feet, constantly aware that he’s bruised and hurt and I can’t grab him with quite the force I want to. It’s like he can tell I’m holding back and he takes the lead, making the kiss more forceful, his thumb pressing carefully against my jaw, pulling me tighter when I’m trying to hold back for fear of hurting him.
From a distance, he looks clean-shaven, but up close, he’s got the barest hint of five-o’clock shadow and it makes my skin tingle at every touch. My ears are ringing, every atom in my body is blazing towards my lips, and my hand is curled so tightly in his hair that it’ll be a Christmas miracle if I don’t come away with a few clumps.
I lose awareness of everything around me. There is nothing but his lips and the pressure at every point that his body touches mine, and as we hit the point where I don’t think I can stop kissing him even though oxygen is becoming a severe issue, he pulls away, and our foreheads press together again as we both gasp for breath.
I’ve never ever felt this way after a kiss before. So unsteady that it’s like I’m on a boat being tossed around by a stormy sea. I can’t open my eyes because kisses like that don’t actually happen in real life and if I open them, I’ll wake up.
‘Is the room spinning?’ he murmurs.
‘Everything’s spinning.’
‘Oh, thank God. It’s not just me. Did we accidentally down six bottles of wine between the outlet shop and here?’
‘We might have, but that was a lot more fun, and six bottles of wine would’ve made
