Page 26 of Festive Flings

“Oh my God. Owen. I’m so sorry. I got pissed. I had a couple of cocktails when I went for a look around. And I ended up sloshed. Did I make a holy show of myself?” she asks as she covers her face with her hands.

Teasing her, I start to laugh. “Oh yeah, you did. But you were hilarious. Do you remember anything about last night?” I challenge. I am taking what is mine. I have fucked about enough. I want her and I’m certain she wants me.

“No, I don't remember a thing,” she tells me, and my heart sinks until I see her radiant smile. “Of course I remember, Owen. I told you that I like you. I confessed to being jealous about that woman yesterday. I admitted I was sad that we aren’t going to date.” She meets my eyes for the first time; her face is pink, and her eyes are filled with honesty and vulnerability.

While my heart beats profusely, I make my confession back to her. “I have wanted this, you, us; I have wanted it all for the longest time. I just need a chance to show you that I can make you happy.” Butterflies fill my stomach when she smiles back at me, making me braver and lightheaded at the same time. “Will you come out with me this afternoon, eh? We could go to the Christmas Market and look around, get some food and really get to know each other?”

I wait with bated breath for her answer.

“I’d love that, Owen.” We sit apart grinning at each other. My heart feels lighter, warmer, and fuller. I’m finally getting my chance with Jamie, and this time I will not fuck it up.

“Good. Because I no longer want to be al-Owen.” I tease, and she groans again before throwing a pillow at me.

“Shut up! Oh no. I just remembered. I puked up, too, didn’t I?” She covers her face with her hands as my laugh echoes around the room.

My meeting lasts for three hours, and I am preoccupied thinking of Jamie and last night for the majority of it. I told her to stay in the room and get ready. She was supposed to come with me to the meeting, but I wanted to give her some time to really think things over without me looming over her.

She is keeping my room, so I moved my stuff to her old one. I am unsure of how fast things may progress between us, and I don’t want her to feel pressured. I want this to play out organically. I want this to be exactly what it's meant to be, and if my gut is right: this is it, she is the one.

After the meeting, I go to my room and change into my warm and casual clothes and comb my hair before going to collect my date.

I knock lightly on the door and wait for her to answer. She shouts, “Just a minute,” so I turn around, my back to the door, and look about the corridor to find something interesting. The door clicks open, and I turn around to face her. She looks amazing, with a deep red coat and a cream knitted hat and scarf. She could be straight from a Christmas film.

“You look amazing, Jamie. Are you ready for this?” I extend my hand to her, and she places hers inside it.

“More than ready. Tivoli Gardens Christmas Market, here we come.”

~ Jamie ~

I am nervous and excited all rolled into one. I am going on a date with Owen; we are actually going on a date! As soon as the night before came back to me, I cringed at my behaviour. I thought I had definitely blown it once and for all. But Owen teased me, made me feel better and reassured me about what I had said and done. He ever so casually called me babe again. He’s done that a couple of times now and although I was taken aback the first time he said it, I have to admit that I like it. It doesn't seem forced on Owen’s behalf, it simply feels right.

There is something very liberating about being open and honest with each other. I don’t feel the need to hold back with Owen, and I hope he feels the same way, too. When I recall asking him if he’d fucked that other woman, my cheeks flush red. I can’t believe I did that, but I am so glad I did and that Owen answered me honestly. Yes, it hurt a bit, but the truth is so much more palatable than a sugar-coated lie.

When I was with Carl, we never talked about anything. I felt stifled at times and belittled. I never felt able to communicate with him. I bit my tongue over a lot of things that I shouldn’t have acquiesced over. I put up with a lot of stuff I probably shouldn’t have. I think I was too young when we got together. I didn’t know who I was back then. I didn’t know what I liked. And as I grew into the person I was supposed to be, Carl didn’t like the changes. He liked the young unsure girl, unquestioning and yielding.

I would never have spoken to Carl about sex. We had sex, but we didn’t talk about it. I wouldn’t dare tell him what I liked or suggest anything new. Carl liked to think he was a man who knew what to do, and although he knew what buttons to press there was always something lacklustre about our physical relationship. I wanted more, but I felt too embarrassed to express that.

I think with Owen, I could tell him these things and we could discuss them together. We have built up a friendship, we know each other quite well already, and I don’t fear him ridiculing me or becoming angry if I were to say something he disagrees with.

I think Owen could help me fulfil the sexual yearnings and curiosity I have. I’m not kinky, or at least I don’t think I am. However, I do want to try new things. I want to try a sixty-niner. I want to ride him. I want to take some risks and have some fun. These are things I have wanted to experience; the stuff I've never done.

Owen knocks on the door, and when I answer, he turns around, his sexy brown eyes taking in the sight of me, and I blush in response. In that one look, he makes me feel sexy and desirable. Every time I think of Owen now, I am filled with a burning want right down between my legs. I like to think I’m in control of my urges, but the dreams are coming quick and fast now and feel more real with every passing moment. I am not going to deny it, because it would be stupid to do so: I want Owen. I want him more than I have ever wanted anything.

“I thought we could take a walk, get some mulled wine, check out the lights and decorations and do some shopping,” he tells me, and I beam back at him. The Christmas Market is something I have really been looking forward to.

We make our way down to the park and Owen hands our tickets in, allowing us access into the most magical place on this Earth.

It is a winter wonderland. There is snow blowing everywhere and tasteful decorations assembled about. The festive music, instruments and singing are subtle and heart-warming.

There are unusual light displays that are simply magnificent, the bright colours and twinkling patterns adding to the overall effect. The signs say there are fifteen magnificently decorated trees, and I want to see each and every one.

As we walk down through the market stalls, I slip my hand into Owen’s, and he grins down at me when I do. We stop at a traditional ornament stall and I spot a tin nutcracker that would look great in Tables & Fables.

“I want to get this for my sister,” I tell him, and he smiles and pays for it before I have the chance to. “Thank you, Owen. You didn’t need to do that."

Owen wraps an arm around my shoulders and directs me to another stall that has mulled wine simmering away in a large vat. There are oranges, apples and cranberries along with star anise, cinnamon bark and chunks of ginger root bobbing up and down in the crimson liquid. If I could bottle the smell of Christmas, this is what it would smell like, the fruity base and spicy undertones evoking feelings of festive love and togetherness.

My recovery from my hangover is still on thin ice. “I’m going to pass on the wine, for now, I don’t think my stomach can take it yet,” I tell him apologetically.

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