Page 92 of Oar Than Friends

And as always when I dreamed about Jake I never wanted to wake up. I wanted to see him again.

But this boy in front of me was too excited for me not to get swept up in it too.

‘Good morning to you,’ I mumbled into his lips. ‘Happy Christmas.’

His hands inched up under my tank top and rubbed along my back as he pulled me in close. ‘How are you feeling this morning?’

I lengthened my arms over my head and pointed out my toes; recognizing the familiar ache of used muscles from the Santa run yesterday. Although run was entirely misleading.

Santa obstacle course was more accurate. Running over hay bales in muddy trench-filled fields, jumping through giant tractor tyres, through the forest and around trees until we reached the finish line where we were handed a cold pint of fresh apple cider.

It was the best thing I’d ever tasted. And the best afternoon I’d ever had.

But no, it was not a run.

I scratched the side of my head, ‘I think I still have mud in my ear.’

Oz gently rubbed along my lobe. ‘Not possible, I cleaned you up exceptionally well. But I can do it again if you want me to make sure.’

The familiar throb kicked up between my legs, though I wasn’t entirely sure it ever really stopped because when Oz was around my body hummed with a low, steady state of electricity; a voltage flowing through my blood which only he could charge.

Like nothing I’d ever experienced before.

I inched up to kiss him again, ‘Mmmm, sounds good. Maybe you should.’

‘Oh, I definitely will, but first …’ he smacked his lips against mine, ‘we have stockings to open.’

A far-too-cold gust of air hit my body as he whippedback the covers, and I curled back up to preserve some warmth.

‘What? Right now? It’s still dark outside.’

He passed me one of his thick hoodies and a pair of pyjama pants. ‘The sun is about to rise, but everyone will be downstairs. Come on.’

I groaned, but pulled on my clothes while Oz hurried me along. He begrudgingly allowed me to clean my teeth before dragging me downstairs.

The smell of coffee and pastries hit me as soon as we left his bedroom. From the music playing, it was clear Phoebe was awake, though it hadn’t yet hit its usual volume, and we followed the noise of loud chattering through to the great hall, where the biggest Christmas tree stood laden with presents, to the side of the biggest fireplace already blazing.

Phoebe, Hector and Alex were all sitting on the giant couches, and Alex’s head was thrown back in laughter – something I hadn’t seen much of. He was quieter than his sister and brothers, more pensive, but sitting there like that it would be almost impossible to tell the three boys apart if they were the same age; identical smiles painted their faces, dark curls flopped to the side, and blue eyes sparkling bright.

The dogs all woofed in greeting, Biscuit rushing forward to lick my hand. Of all the dogs, Biscuit was the one who always stayed with me; he was becoming a bit of a comfort blanket to curl up with.

Oz scooped up one of the cats and placed it on the back of the couch, where it promptly jumped off and moved nearer the fire. Stockings adorned the mantel;there were so many, one for each of the animals plus the kids, that it took me a second to realize there was one with my name embroidered on it too, exactly like the rest.

‘I got a stocking?’ I whispered, my throat constricting at the unexpected thoughtfulness and kindness.

I’d turned up at the last minute, and they’d already been prepared for me. At least I’d contributed something to the mountain of presents, as luckily Phoebe had dragged me into the nearby village for some last-minute shopping yesterday, so I’d been able to pick up a few things. I could see mine poking out in the bright green wrapping paper, ignoring the meagre contribution they made to the mountain.

‘Of course, Father Christmas knows you’re staying here. He wasn’t going to leave my girlfriend out,’ Oz replied in the same way you would to a five-year-old, but the only bit of that sentence I heard was girlfriend.

‘Girlfriend?’ I whispered.

Oz nodded. ‘Yeah, I kind of like the sound of it. What do you think?’

He searched my face, hopefully, looking for my answer.

‘I like it too.’ I leaned in and kissed his cheek, ‘Thank you for my stocking.’

‘Told you, it’s not me, it’s Santa,’ he whispered back to me, then turned to his siblings, ‘Where’s Mama?’

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