12 Days 'til Christmas ✓

chapter twenty-eight

t w e n t y - e i g h t

*

Weak winter sunlight pours through the window as it slowly rises above the horizon, pale yellow beams streaking through the trees and the snow and the fog to cast themselves across an exposed strip of Casper's back. I trace the glowing lines with my fingertips, his skin warm from sleep, and press my lips to the back of his neck when he stirs with a sigh and a grunt.

We spent Boxing Day in the house, recovering from a full day with my family and collapsing in bed by nine o'clock, though it was midnight before we fell asleep. Now, waking up refreshed on the twenty-seventh of December, that strange time between Christmas and the new year, I'm ready to get out of the house.

"That feels good," Casper says into his pillow, slowly rolling over so my hand splays over his bare chest, and he flashes me a wonky, sleepy smile.

"Time to get up," I say with a yawn, throwing the duvet off me so the blast of cold forces me to get out of bed.

"Sure you don't want to just ... stay here?"

"You're welcome to stay in bed, but I need to get out of this house." It's hard to get the energy to actually leave my bed, especially with Casper sprawled out next to me, but the light from the sun and the chill from the snow forces me to my feet, carrying me to the bathroom.

By the time I return, he's out of bed and semi dressed, running his hands through his hair before he bothers to look for a t-shirt. Not that I'm complaining. We've only been together for three days: this is very much still the honeymoon period, and part of me would quite like to throw him back onto the bed and kiss his chest, to mess up his hair and leave hickeys on his neck.

"Where're we going?" he asks, pulling on yesterday's t-shirt from a pile on the floor.

"Breakfast."

"Downstairs?"

"Out," I say. "We've hardly left the house since you moved in and the cabin fever is starting to set in. I think it's about time we got a change of air, and let someone else cook for once."

He grins, looping a belt around his waist. "Sure you don't want a cold carrot and leftover chicken sandwich for brekkie?"

"Not again. I'm craving fresh fruit and fluffy eggs and avocado and tomatoes." I stand in front of the mirror to put in a pair of glittery snowflake earrings once I've looped a scarf around my neck. Casper disappears while I brush my hair and search for lipstick. I don't often wear make-up, but I feel like making extra effort today, matching my lips to my deep red jumper.

When I turn around, Casper has returned, a dot of toothpaste in the corner of his mouth, and I can't resist kissing that cheeky grin of his.

"I bet I've got red lips now," he says, puckering up and ducking around me to check in the mirror. "You know what, I kind of like this look. Am I pulling it off?" He purses his lips at me, pulling a sassy pout, one finger touching the corner of his mouth.

"Absolutely. You look divine, darling." I hold up the tube and wiggle it at him. "Want some?"

He rolls his lips together and says, "Baby steps, my love," before he kisses me again, chuckling as he presses his lips against mine a bit harder. "Feelin' sexy."

"Looking sexy too." I pat his cheek and pull on a thick cardigan over my jumper, layering up to battle the weather outside. It's pretty still, as far as I can see, but the snow is clean and white and bitingly cold. "Well. Shall we go?"

He throws an arm around my waist and squeezes my arse. "Let's hit the road, baby."

*

It's quiet in town, the car park virtually empty when we pull in twenty minutes later. The weather seems to have driven people away from the centre, ice and snow and the bitter cold keeping them at home – it's ghostlike, shops empty aside from pockets of staff looking for things to do, if the stores are even open. A handful are shut, Java Tea included, but I know we can rely on the chain cafes at the other end of town.