Four Christmases and a Secret. Zara Stoneley

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СКАЧАТЬ my fellow hedgehog hunter, is unfortunately in the same class at school as Ollie. My cheeks burn. ‘Why do boys have to be so immature?’ I will kill him if he’s been talking about us to his mates.

      Ollie shrugs and looks faintly embarrassed, a tinge of pink along his high cheekbones. ‘One-upmanship I guess.’

      It’s my turn to roll my eyes. ‘You’re eighteen for heaven’s sake! You’ll be going to uni in October! Don’t you have anything better to talk about than sex?’

      ‘Who said anything about sex?’ He laughs and leans in closer again, then frowns and touches my arm lightly. ‘You do know what kind of rep he’s got, don’t you? I mean I know he’s gobby but …’

      ‘Oh, shut up! I know exactly what he’s like!’ I move away a bit, because the touch of his hand is bringing out goose-bumps on my arm and making something deep in my stomach flutter. I can’t remember feeling that funny sensation with Josh, even when we were so close our hip bones clashed. The only goose-bumps I’d had was because it was bloody freezing.

      In a strange way it would be nice if Ollie carried on, just to see what happens, but he doesn’t. He moves back as though I’ve swiped him away, not just retreated a bit.

      ‘So,’ he clears his throat, and points at the book, ‘what are you checking? Bet I can tell you more than a book can!’

      ‘In your dreams.’ I snap the book shut and sigh. Rupert Campbell-Black and Jake will have to wait another day. I mean, I know Riders has been about a while, but I read in a horse magazine that it is one of the books to read. So as soon as I spotted it was one of the new books Uncle T was stocking, I thought it was a good opportunity to try it out. ‘Anyway, why are you hiding in a corner, bothering me?’

      Ollie rolls his eyes. ‘If I have to hear your mother saying one more time, ‘Well, my Daisy is going to be a vet, isn’t she clever?’ I will stick my head in the vat of mulled wine.’

      ‘Ha-ha, well I have to listen to your mum going on about you.’ I do. Uncle Terence’s Christmas eve party seems to bring out the worst in both of our mothers. ‘Doc Ollie, ha-ha. Suits you!’ Ollie isn’t particularly cool, he’s a bit studious (that might be the glasses), a bit geeky. His hair is a bit too long, and he’s very (and I mean very) lanky.

      ‘That Christmas jumper suits you!’ He grins again, his dark eyes twinkling.

      ‘You look a bit of a twerd to be honest, where the hell did you get yours?’ I say and giggle in a very stupid girlish way, to deflect the churning feeling that has just started up in the base of my stomach, and the desire I’ve got to kiss him.

      Kiss him?

      Now where the hell did that come from? I don’t kiss Oliver Cartwright! He’s the son of my parents’ best friends for heaven sakes. And he’s annoying and a smart arse, and always trying to compete, and, well, and quite gorgeous actually. In this dim light. But he’s got a silly jumper on.

      ‘Twerd?’ He’s closer again. Not grinning now though. In fact, he’s staring into my eyes.

      I swallow.

      ‘Mix of a twerp and a nerd? My brain couldn’t decide before it came out of my mouth.’ God, my mouth is dry. And his mouth is so close.

      ‘Whereas your jumper is the height of festive fashion?’ He laughs and leans in even closer. He’s acting pretty chilled and relaxed by his normal standards. I think he might have been hitting the whisky with my dad, his own dad and Uncle Terence.

      Whereas I have only Uncle T’s cocktails to blame.

      ‘Definitely.’ I swallow again. I’ve gone to town this year. Found a very smart jumper, with two robins, whose chests light up. Ollie has a giant reindeer head with a big flashing nose. Not original or new, I’m sure he wore it last year. Except now it’s a bit tighter, stretched over his chest which I’m sure is broader, and a bit tight over his flat stomach, and …

      ‘It’ll be weird next year, won’t it? We won’t have seen each other for months!’

      ‘Ha-ha, there’s a good side to everything!’ I laugh, to cover up my embarrassment. Because it will be weird; in fact, it’ll be very strange to not see Ollie at school, at parties at his parents’ and my parents’.

      He’s staring down at the book I’m still holding. ‘You didn’t bring Josh tonight, then?’

      I shrug. ‘It’s nothing serious. Just a bit of fun, why should I bring him?’

      ‘Just wondered.’

      ‘It would be daft to get serious, I’m off to Edinburgh Uni, he’s going to Bristol or somewhere daft, I mean who gets serious with somebody when they’re still at school?’

      ‘Yeah, you’d have to be mad, wouldn’t you?’

      ‘Totally.’

      I suddenly realise that he’s stopped looking at the book and he’s staring straight into my eyes.

      His mouth is only inches from mine. His thigh is warm against my bare leg. I feel all fluttery, not-quite-sure what to do. Whether to pull my skirt down, shoot off the chair, or say something clever. Instead, I just stare back. My breath catching in my throat as he raises a hand and touches my cheek.

      ‘Mistletoe.’ He mumbles glancing up.

      ‘Oh, yeah.’ I look up as well, then back down.

      Our gazes lock, and it’s like I’m seeing him for the very first time. I don’t want to look at anything or anybody else, not even my book. All I can see is him. All I can feel is the soft imprint of his fingers against my cheek, his warm breath fanning my skin.

      My heart is hammering, and I’m trembling inside and out. But I know this is going to happen.

      I lean in. I can’t help myself.

      ‘We should …’ Then his lips brush over mine. It’s the lightest of touches, but it sends a shiver down my spine.

      I freeze, and then I can’t help it. I close my eyes and I kiss him back.

      His lips are soft, his hand warm on my waist, and I’m tingling all over, nervous but weirdly excited. He tastes of whisky and mince pies. And something else, something that is Ollie and nobody else. Something I want more of. And a small part of me deep inside, that I didn’t know existed, has woken up leaving me all breathless and shaky.

      I’ve never kissed Ollie before. Well, I have, or rather he kissed me. But we were six years old, and he was Joseph to my Mary in the school Nativity, and he was showing off.

      But this is way different.

      I mean though, we’re not like this. Are we?

      ‘Daisy, Daisy, where are you hiding?’

      ‘Oh God, it’s Mum!’ I pull back, my lips feeling bruised and swollen, and I just know I’m flushed and flustered.

      ‘Right, er, well.’ Ollie blinks at me.

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