Page 4 of His Taste Of Christmas

“Snap out of it. What's the matter with you?” Macey's eyes are wide when I finally turn my attention back to her. “I’m sorry, Mr Hayes. I don’t know what’s wrong with her.”

Wait, did she really say Mr Hayes?

My stomach sinks.

She did. She did because Mr Hayes is currently standing in front of me.

The man who stirred butterflies in my stomach during school lessons. The man who ignited a fire in me every time he spoke—the man who created my passion for writing. I've been standing here, completely fixated, as my old English teacher stands right in front of me.

Fantastic.

Fabulous.

Fuck!

“Uh, I'm, uh…” I lower my head, my gaze fixed on the ground, praying for it to open up and consume me entirely. I never learned how to talk to him without blushing, and now that I'm near him, my cheeks feel like they're on fire. Being around him is apparently still too much for my body to handle because there's a familiar stirring in my stomach.

“Angel?” His voice, rough and deep, sends signals to my core between my thighs, leaving behind a deep ache that I thought had long vanished.

I wince as there’s a sharp jab to my side. Mace is likely just as embarrassed as me about my behaviour. In school, she thought it was hilarious, but now we're both eighteen, this shouldn’t be happening.

Raising my head, I inhale deeply. His eyes, like shards of auburn crystal, pierce through me, leaving me breathless. He has always been handsome, but now he's unbelievably captivating. The grey that now shines through his brown hair and the days-old stubble really, and I meanreally, does it for him. He looks older, but in a good way. I have never found an older man with what is the start of grey hair attractive, but he just took the crown for that because, wow, just wow. I’m doing it again.Shit.

“Hi.”Hi? That is all I have after all of that. For fuck’s sake.“Sorry, Mr Hayes,” I quickly rush out, desperately searching for an excuse for my probably obvious reaction to seeing him. “Late night, last night. I can't seem to stay focused.” I grimace and briefly glance at him before turning my attention to Mace, who looks at me with a dumbfounded expression.

With a less-than-subtle gesture, she shakes her head, indicating that I need to handle and resolve this. I glance back at Mr Hayes, who wears a smirk, suggesting he is aware of why I’m so flustered. He must not be bothered by the fact that I was just checking him out. I guess he is no longer our teacher.

“Angel.” He acknowledges me with a nod, his smirk transforming back into that wide grin I love so much. The ache between my thighs intensifies once again. Fuck, I need to get laid to get rid of this feeling, but who am I kidding? I’ve never got laid. Thinking about him is the only time I experience this feeling. Thoughts of him cross my mind while I am in bedand my fingers creep beneath my sleep shorts, or when I’m showering and decide to use the shower head between my legs. I can only reach orgasm when I visualise him.

As I try to shake off my frustration, Mr Hayes raises an eyebrow.

“Are you zoning out again?” A smirk plays on his lips while his eyes twinkle. He's definitely messing with me.

“I guess I’m a lot more tired than I thought.” I give him a restrained smile, hoping Mace will catch on and find a way to get us out of this situation. Despite my efforts, she continues to ignore me and focuses her attention solely on Mr Hayes.

“Merry Christmas, Mr Hayes,” Mace says way too cheerfully, her grin so wide her eyes squint into tiny slits.

He extends his hand. “Please, Macey, we’re not in school anymore. Call me Carter,” he informs her. “Merry Christmas to you both.” I meet his gaze and try to hide my nervousness, swallowing to combat the dryness in my throat, hoping he doesn’t notice my blushing face. I must blend in with all the red decorations in this shop.

“You got any plans this Christmas, Carter?” Mace asks, his name so casual on her tongue. Calling him that would feel too casual for me. I can hardly even make eye contact with the man, let alone be familiar enough to call him by his first name.

“None at the moment. I'm here to restock on cases of wine and beers and some Christmas stuff for my mum.” He gestures towards his trolley, which is much smaller than the one Mace is pushing. He diverts his attention to Mace's trolley.

“It seems like you ladies are putting a lot of effort in this Christmas. What plans do you have?” With his gaze shifting between Mace and me. I keep quiet, trusting my bestie to do what she does best and direct the conversation.

“Oh, Angel's parents run a pub, and we’re stuck managing it while they’re away. Makes sense since we live upstairs. We’re onthe hunt for decorations today. Since we're open on Christmas Day, we should make it as festive and enjoyable as we can. I want it to feel like home from home for everyone who has booked, but just with them being waited on instead of having to do it themselves.” Mace's wide grin stretches across her face as she rocks back and forth from her toes to her heels. Mace's excitement is palpable.

I don’t realise that I must be wearing my festive-hating feelings on my face until Mr Hayes turns to me and asks, “Are you not looking forward to working on Christmas?” My tongue feels swollen, but I can't embarrass myself any further by keeping quiet.

“It's not really about my work,” I try to explain, but Mace cuts me off before I can say anything else.

“She has a strong hatred for Christmas.” Squinting, I turn my gaze towards her. People's reaction are consistently dramatic upon discovering my disdain for the holiday. Was it necessary for her to tell Mr Hayes?

With a twitch of his mouth and raised eyebrows, he signals for me to continue.

“Christmas isn't really my thing, that's all.” I roll my eyes. “Seriously,” I wave my hand dismissively, “it's excessive and just another way for people to go broke.” Beside me, I can hear a loud yawn and witness Mace theatrically fanning her hand against her mouth. “Yes, I know what you think, Mace.” I poke her in the side, causing her to squeal and quickly move away from me. Mr Hayes appears to be trying to suppress his smile as he watches our playful interaction.

“Is there anything you find appealing about Christmas?” he questions in an unbothered manner, free from judgment. Just asking out of curiosity, I suppose. Despite my shy smile, I can't resist sharing what's on my mind, even after eating a whole box today.

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