Page 17 of Christmas Sunrise
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Marty come to stand behind Jenna. He leans down and kisses the curve of her neck. She closes her eyes and leans back into him. He says something to her but I don't hear it, couldn't possibly because Niall continues to fill my ear with his words.
"So how about it? Want to rock around the Christmas tree with me? My flat is less than a five-minute walk, shifting stops included," Niall says, sitting back in his chair. His eyes are busy searching my face, I assume, for any clue of what my answer will be.
"Shifting stops?" I pull back and cock an eyebrow. I'm doing it to bide my time, because he’s waiting for an answer I don't yet have. Because I don't know if I should go home with him. I'm not even sure I want to.
Am I attracted to Niall? Yes, for the most part. Do I want to act on that attraction? I don't know. That’s the question I am struggling to answer.
"Absolutely. I would insist on several pit stops for kissing. There's some mistletoe hanging up on the way out of the pub, for starters."
I glance in the direction he nods in and find my gaze drift over the blur of faces that fill the pub. There are smiles, there's laughter, there's conversation everywhere. There are all manner of friends and lovers and families sitting or standing together, celebrating Christmas Eve. Even the Grinch in me can't deny it's a very merry, very festive scene. Don't I deserve some festive merriment of my own?
"I do like kissing," I say, half to myself.
"So, what do you say, Jake? Will we escape now so we can make the most of the evening? There's plenty of time before Santy will be sliding down my chimney."
"Oh, you're planning a threesome already? You don't even know my surname!" I say. It’s considerably easier to continue flirting than actually give him an answer.
Niall smiles at that, pink hints of his lips visible through his beard. "Then tell me. Tell me your surname, Jake."
It shouldn't make me melt further being asked that, but it does. It means nothing, I know that much, but it's the way it could mean something to someone one day that pierces the softest, most tender part of me.
"Forester," I say.
Niall nods at me and swallows, as if locking that information down inside him. "So, how about it, Jake Forester? Fancy a whisky and a mince pie at my place?" He leans in again. "Mince pie being a euphemism for all sorts of filthy things."
Looking down at the drink in my hand, I blink a few times before lifting my eyes. Before they settle on Niall, they quickly take in the sight of Maeve and Arabella sitting so close together, their legs are lined up and Arabella's hand is resting on Maeve's thigh. Talking over one another, each of them is so fixated on the other, they're oblivious to my gawking. I can't say exactly what it is I feel as I absorb their comfort with each other, their clear closeness, and the evident love they share, but it's a sensation I can't ignore.
When I do finally look at Niall, taking in his cheerful good looks and his keen eyes, I waver for only a second before I speak.
"Thank you, Niall, but no, thank you. I think I'd like to spend Christmas Eve with my friends," I explain with a quick head tilt to the people sitting around the table.
To his credit, the shock or perhaps disappointment he feels only lingers there for the briefest moment before a smile is back in place. "Are you sure?" He casts a quick look around at Maeve and Arabella who continue to be wrapped up in each other, and at Marty and Jenna who are also deep in conversation, holding hands.
"Quite sure," I say, and my smile is as firm as my tone. "They're ignoring me now, but just wait until ‘Last Christmas’ comes on and I happen to find a microphone."
Niall pulls his lips into a downward expression that I read as a graceful admittance of defeat. "Well, it is the best Christmas song there is."
My mouth drops open. "That's what I said!"
Only a little confused, Niall pushes to stand. "I'm going to take my sorely rejected arse somewhere else now."
From my seated position, I look up and take in his height, his broad shoulders and goddammit, those thick, thick thighs.
"Suppose I change my mind..."
Niall's eyebrows lift slowly. "Supposing you change your mind..." he repeats.
"Could I have your phone number?" I rush the words out, as if I don't quite trust them.
"That you can," Niall says and he holds out his hand, signalling for me to give him my phone which I do after unlocking it. He quickly types in a number and calls it. "There you go. And how long are you in Dublin for? As in, how many other possible chances are there to have you underneath my Christmas tree?"
"I leave on the 28th," I tell him.
"They're decent odds." He wrinkles his nose.
"You're a gambling man?"
"I can be, when I believe the risk is worth the reward," he says, staring down into my eyes. I can practically feel my ego inflate with his words and intense stare.
