Page 63 of Spearcrest Knight

He bounds off and I follow him. For some reason, his enthusiasm is both endearing and a little depressing. I make a mental note to buy some Christmas decorations while we’re at the supermarket.

Evan might be a complete and utter arsehole, but even arseholes deserve a bit of Christmas cheer.

19

American Dream

Sophie

Overthenextfewdays, it becomes painfully obvious how empty Evan’s life is. All he does is go for runs, work out in his massive home gym, walk around the kitchen looking for snacks and play video games.

Nobody visits him, since his friends, like mine, are all home with their families or holidaying abroad. He doesn’t seem bothered about university applications or homework or revision—or about much at all, actually. He just ambles aimlessly through his days, looking for stuff to do.

Whenever I return home from the café , he comes bounding down the stairs like an eager puppy. We get into the habit of cooking together, which mostly involves me doing the cooking and Evan looking over my shoulder and asking a million questions. I give him tasks, and he does them without complaint: washing up, peeling veggies, emptying the bins.

We eat together at his kitchen island and then watch TV for a bit in his fancy living room. Sometimes, we’ll play some video games, but I'm not very good at them, and Evan isn't the best teacher, so I always end up giving up.

Other times, we’ll play some music and I’ll sit and chip away at my homework while Evan lies on his back on the floor with his legs on the sofa, playing games on his phone.

On Friday evening, I come home exhausted after five consecutive days at the café . I have Saturday and Sunday off, so I put away my coat and backpack and go find Evan. Although we never talked about the kiss at the party, it no longer feels like a phantom haunting us every time we’re together, so most of the awkwardness has dissipated by now.

He’s perched on a stool in the kitchen, watching something on his phone and sipping a massive protein shake. His blue eyes light up when I enter the room and he holds up his glass.

“Want some?”

“After I’m done working out in your basement, maybe."

“You’re going to work out?” he asks with honest surprise.

I give him a look. “No, Evan. No, I’m not going to work out. But thereissomething I want us to do.”

He stares at me wide-eyed, and his phone slips from his hand, landing on the marble tabletop with a thud. A dull flush colours his cheeks. Immediately, the ghost of the kiss rises between us. I have to intervene quickly if I don’t want this to become unbearably awkward.

“Not whatever it is you’re imagining,” I snap.

“Oh.” He blinks at me with a slight frown. “What, then?”

I raise my eyebrows. “Do you remember the decorations we bought at the beginning of the week?”

He sits up. “Fuck off. Yes. Yes, I remember! What about them? Is it time?”

I nod solemnly. “It’s time.”

He runs from the kitchen, abandoning both his phone and his protein shake. The decorations are in bags and boxes in the hallway. I walk over to find Evan flitting around them like a giddy kid.

“Where do we start?”

Decorating takes us the rest of the afternoon and most of the evening. But when we finally finish and walk around to admire our handiwork, it doesn’t feel like we wasted our time. The austere elegance of the rooms is transformed by the soft glow of coloured fairy lights, the strings of tinsel, the garlands and wreaths.

Even our small Christmas tree, tucked by the ornate fireplace in the living room, looks pretty good now it’s decorated.

“Does that mean we’re doing presents, then?” Evan asks as we both stand admiring the tree.

“I mean, it’s a little late now. Do you want to?”

“Yeah! It would be weird to have a tree with no presents under it.”

I shrug. “Alright. We’ll do presents.”

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