Two Night Stand: A fun, festive read - perfect for the holidays!

by Portia MacIntosh

  I can’t help but smile. It’s nice to see a version of Chris that is not so sure of himself. Even earlier, when he showed me his emotional side, he was so comfortable doing it, which I really like, I’m all for men sharing, but his confidence never faded. It’s nice to know that he does worry about somethings.

  ‘No, no, I’m not vegan,’ I say quickly. ‘Or a vegetarian. I’ll eat almost anything.’

  ‘Phew,’ he says. I see the relief wash over his face, relaxing his muscles. ‘You were just doing a face.’

  ‘It just surprised me, to come down here, and see you cooking dinner for us,’ I say. ‘I didn’t have you down as the type to cook.’

  I know he made breakfast earlier, but everyone can make breakfast, right?

  ‘Yeah, I’ve been eating for most of my life, so the need to cook has cropped up now and then,’ he jokes.

  ‘You know what I mean,’ I insist.

  ‘I do,’ he replies. ‘Well, we’re having bangers, mash, cauliflower cheese, gravy – I even found some Yorkshire puddings in the freezer. Again, don’t worry, they had loads. You could live in their freezer if it wasn’t, y’know, a freezer.’

  I smile.

  ‘Sounds amazing,’ I tell him. ‘Is there anything I can do?’

  ‘Yes, you can get out of my kitchen,’ he jokes. ‘Head through to the dining room, I’ll be through with these in a minute.’

  ‘Yes, sir,’ I reply, doing as I’m told.

  It’s only now, upon entering the dining room for the second time, that I really notice the Christmas tree. Well, I was in a bit of a flap earlier, and it’s dark out now, and the tree lights are on. It’s a big tree. At least 7ft tall, reaching up towards the high ceiling, and it’s plenty wide too. I know it’s real because I can smell it. You really can’t beat the smell of a real Christmas tree.

  The next thing I notice is that the table is laid for two. The candles glow in the dimly lit room – coupled with the fairy lights on the tree, it’s such a dreamy, romantic scene.

  Next to our places, there is a bottle of prosecco. I sit down and touch the bottle. It’s perfectly chilled.

  ‘So, they’ve got this thing in their kitchen,’ Chris explains as he carries in the plates. ‘Like a hole in the worktop, which I thought was bottle holder, but you tell it how cold you want your drinks to be and it chills them for you. Isn’t that amazing?’

  ‘It is,’ I reply. ‘But not as amazing as this dinner, Chris, wow, everything looks amazing.’

  ‘You will also be pleased to know that the prosecco is mine, not lifted from the chiller. It was my secret Santa gift,’ he explains. ‘So, you can drink it guilt-free.’

  ‘I can and I will,’ I reply.

  Thankfully my hangover has shifted enough to allow a little light drinking. I’m even more grateful my appetite has returned.

  ‘I’ve also knocked together a crumble,’ he says. ‘It just needs popping in the oven when we’re ready for it.’

  ‘OK, this Chris I like,’ I tell him. ‘Earlier I thought you were so selfish, and infuriating, but as the day has gone on, I’m almost warming to you.’

  He laughs.

  ‘Amazing what a bit of dessert can do, to get a person on-side,’ he muses. ‘I probably wasn’t totally myself earlier. I was a bit freaked out and trying to hide it because, you’re right, coming here was really stupid. I guess I wanted to impress you.’

  ‘Well, if there’s one thing you need to learn about me, I’m far more impressed by your crumble making skills than this house.’

  Chris’s face suggests he doesn’t believe me.

  ‘I’m serious,’ I insist. ‘This is an amazing house, without a doubt, there’s so much to love about it. But being able to buy stuff isn’t really a quality I look for in a person. Someone who cooks for me, goes out of their way to lay a beautiful table, who shares their secret Santa present with me… that I can get on board with.’

  ‘And there’s me thinking girls liked a bad boy,’ he replies with a smile. ‘I broke into a house to impress you – nothing. I mash a few potatoes and you’re weak at the knees? Perhaps pop culture has lied to me.’

  I gasp theatrically.

  ‘Imagine!’ I say.

  As Chris and I chat over dinner I start to get little flashbacks from last night. I start to see in him what I saw in him yesterday. I can feel that connection again.

  ‘So, what do you like to do for fun?’ I ask. ‘Other than breaking and entering, and video games.’

  ‘One passion probably fuels the other,’ he jokes. ‘Hmm, well, other than that… I’m a bit of a dork really. I like superhero movies – I like the comics even more. I really, truly consider my Netflix subscription to be a bargain. I’m so addicted to true crime documentaries, but who isn’t? And I love reading. I’m a book-a-night kind of guy. Once I get started, that’s it.’

  ‘I don’t believe it,’ I say.

  ‘I know, it sounds insane, but you wouldn’t turn a movie off part of the way through, would you?’

  ‘I’m not surprised you read a book in a night,’ I reply. ‘I’m not a monster. I’m surprised you read.’

  ‘I don’t seem the type?’ he replies.

  ‘You don’t,’ I say. ‘Sorry if that sounds rude. You just seem too cool, I guess. I was surprised when you gave me the time of day last night.’

  ‘Don’t be daft,’ he replies. ‘I’ve always loved reading. Even when I was a kid. I saw you reading that Goosebumps book…’

  ‘Don’t tell me you loved Goosebumps too?!’ I reply.

  ‘Not really,’ he says. ‘I thought I was too mature for that. I preferred Point Horror.’

  ‘I remember those,’ I say, thinking back to my school days. ‘I used to eye them up but you had to be in year 8 to read them. So, I worked my way through every Goosebumps book I could find and, by the time I hit year 8, and I finally got to read one of the “grown-up” books… I don’t know. I just didn’t like them as much. They didn’t seem as much fun.’

  ‘It’s OK, they were pretty scary,’ he teases.

  ‘Perhaps if we’d got to know each other like this before we had sex, I wouldn’t have felt so awkward today,’ I say with a laugh.

  Chris sniggers.

  ‘What?’ I reply. ‘I’m sure it’s a bit more typical, to get to know someone before you sleep with them, that’s if you want to look them in the eye again…’

  ‘Yeah, I’ve heard that said before,’ he replies. ‘It’s just funny because, well, we didn’t sleep together. Do you really think we did?’

  ‘I, er…’

  I totally did.

  ‘We didn’t,’ he says. ‘We kissed – a lot – but we didn’t have sex. We drank that whiskey, you fell asleep, I fell asleep next to you not long after.’

  ‘I was in my underwear,’ I point out, a bit embarrassed.

  ‘Ah, yeah, well there was a dancing segment,’ he replies. ‘I thought I might spare you the details, seeing as though you don’t remember much, but you definitely took your own clothes off, willingly.’

  And now I’m a lot embarrassed.

  ‘How was your dinner?’ Chris asks, changing the subject.

  ‘Amazing,’ I tell him, taking hold of my clean plate, holding it up for him to see. ‘Thank you. I’m still so surprised by it – sorry, I can’t do this, you say I danced?’

  I want to pretend I didn’t hear that bit, but I can’t.

  ‘It was more of a strip than a dance,’ he says. ‘Don’t be embarrassed – I remember it being really good.’

  ‘I think that might be more embarrassing,’ I reply.

  I pick up my drink and throw it down the hatch. As I said earlier: there’s a reason I don’t do things like this.

  ‘OK, come here,’ Chris says, hopping to his feet.

  He messes with the CD player on the side.

  ‘Right, stand up,’ he says, holding his hand out.

  ‘Is this… is this the song from The Karate Kid?’ I ask.

  ‘It�
��s from The Karate Kid II, actually,’ he says. ‘It’s “The Glory of Love” by Peter Cetera.’

  ‘God, you really are a dork,’ I point out.

  ‘Come on, dance with me,’ Chris insists. ‘I’m giving you a chance to redeem yourself.’

  ‘How so?’ I ask as I take his hand.

  ‘I’m levelling the playing field,’ he says. ‘You get to watch me dance too. And I get to see your sober moves, when I’m sober, so these are the ones I’ll remember.’

  ‘My moves to the song from The Karate Kid?’ I reply in disbelief.

  ‘The Karate Kid II,’ he replies. ‘Yes. I imagine they stream music now, like everyone else does. This power ballads CD was the only other one in the machine.’

  ‘Power ballads it is then,’ I say.

  I let Chris pull my body close to his. We slow dance to the music and, you know what, it’s nice. So nice I could almost forget I was trespassing in my boss’s house, dancing with a man I hardly know – one I stripped for. At least I can keep my clothes on this time.

  ‘I know this isn’t the New Year’s Eve you had in mind,’ Chris says. ‘And I know this isn’t the most ideal situation but… I’m really glad I got snowed in with you.’

  ‘I’m actually really glad I got snowed in with you too,’ I reply.

  As the song from The Karate Kid – sorry, The Karate Kid II – switches to something by Whitesnake (this is certainly a power ballads CD from a particular era), and I feel our bodies moving closer and closer, I find myself making the first move, kissing Chris. He kisses me back.

  There’s a purple chaise lounge that sits in front of the bi-folding doors. With nothing but a big, dark, empty back garden on the other side of the glass, Chris ushers me towards it and, as I lie back, I can’t help but laugh to myself…

  Perhaps I’m not going to keep my clothes on for this dance either.

  Chapter Nine

  ‘Well, that was unexpected,’ Chris says.

  ‘Must be the 80’s music,’ I muse. ‘Women must have been weak at the knees in the 80s.’

  ‘Everyone’s knees are weak in their 80s,’ he jokes, but then he backtracks. ‘Sorry, I clearly make bad jokes when I’m nervous.’

  ‘You’re nervous?’ I reply.

  ‘Yeah, well, I’m worried the second time might not have been as good as the first,’ he says through a little chuckle.

  I laugh.

  ‘It was even better,’ I tell him. ‘If only just because it actually happened.’

  We’re currently cuddled up together on the chaise lounge and it’s nice. At the start of the year this is not how I thought I was going to be ending it – hell, at the start of the day, this isn’t how I thought it would end either. Now that I know I didn’t actually have a one-night stand, in the traditional sense, I’m glad that I didn’t. If I’d been able to scarper earlier today I totally would have, but being stuck here with Chris has forced me to get to know him a little better, and now I want to get to know him even more.

  I hear my phone vibrating on the table.

  ‘That will be the inevitable Happy New Year messages starting to come through,’ I say.

  I grab Chris’s shirt and put it on, like something from a movie, because I’m suddenly (a little late in the day) mindful of what could be lurking in the back garden, like something from a horror movie, even though I know deep down there’s nothing there.

  ‘I usually reply to them all later,’ Chris says. ‘The next day.’

  ‘I don’t have enough friends to have a system like that,’ I say with a laugh. ‘So… oh… it’s my sister.’

  ‘Maybe don’t read it now,’ Chris says quickly, jumping to his feet. ‘Now isn’t the time.’

  I ignore him, because the message preview is too intriguing to ignore, but when I finally open the message I see that it’s a reply to something I sent her – except I didn’t send it.

  ‘What is this?’ I say, mostly to myself. ‘She just sent me a message saying: “OK, fine, call me when you can.” and it’s in reply to a message I sent her, asking if we could make amends. I didn’t send her a message. I’ve barely touched my phone in a few hours, I left it…’

  My voice trails off as the realisation hits me. About a second before I have each piece of the puzzle in place, Chris realises that I’m on to him.

  ‘Did you message my sister?’ I ask him.

  ‘OK, here me out,’ Chris starts.

  ‘Did you message my sister as me?’ I say.

  ‘It’s New Year’s Eve, and after what you told me earlier, life is sh–’

  ‘I don’t want to hear it,’ I snap. ‘I’m going to bed.’

  ‘Hayley, please, just let me explain,’ he pleads but I’m not having it.

  ‘What is wrong with you?’ I ask him. ‘You’re a loose cannon. You do all this stupid stuff, and you think you’re so cool, but you’re a liability. And I had you right earlier, you are selfish. You think you know what’s best, well you don’t, so just leave me alone.’

  I storm out and Chris doesn’t come after me. Good. I don’t want him to. Who the hell is he, to interfere in my life like this?

  Once again Chris has made a total mess and landed me right in it. And now I don’t have a choice because, unless I want to make things worse, I’m going to have to call my sister. Great.

  Chapter Ten

  I sit down on the bed and stare at my phone. Chris has really stitched me up this time.

  He told Claire I wanted to patch things up, which almost certainly makes it seem like I want to apologise to her, but I don’t. Well, I do and I don’t. I want to apologise for the way things have turned out but I stand by my opinions.

  I don’t want to call her – I really don’t – especially not at 11:45 pm on New Year’s Eve, when she’s in a fancy hotel with my parents, and I’m stuck here with Chris, who might actually be a sociopath. Imagine if I don’t though. I can’t tell her the truth, can I? That the (almost) random man I went (to someone else’s) home with, took my phone and text her on my behalf. Not only does that sound awful but she would be so upset, to think I’d told someone about it, and that someone had taken it upon themselves to do something as stupid as using my phone to text them on my behalf. I can’t get my head around it myself.

  I pick up my phone and hit call on Claire’s name. Hopefully, the right words will just come to me as we chat, and this won’t turn into an argument, but I don’t have high hopes.

  ‘Hey,’ she says as she answers. ‘I was starting to think you weren’t going to call tonight.’

  ‘Yeah, sorry, it’s been a day,’ I tell her.

  It’s so weird to be chatting, like we didn’t fall out, but I don’t know what to do apart from make small talk. So much for the right words coming to me.

  ‘How’s the spa?’ I ask.

  ‘We couldn’t go,’ she replies. ‘Because of the snow. Did you make it out with your friends?’

  ‘I didn’t,’ I reply. ‘I was at my work’s post-Christmas party last night and I got stuck here.’

  I’ll leave it at that.

  ‘Ah, that’s a shame,’ she says.

  We go silent for a few seconds. I imagine she’s waiting for me to make the first move, until…

  ‘Hayley, look, I’ve been thinking,’ Claire starts. ‘This whole getting snowed-in at home thing, not being able to go to the spa, I can’t help but feel like it’s a sign.’

  ‘A sign?’ I reply.

  ‘Yeah, like someone somewhere is punishing me, for not inviting you, for leaving you out,’ she continues. ‘I’ve had a lot of time to think about it and I shouldn’t have done that, and I wanted to call you to tell you, but I was worried you’d tell me to piss off. I’ve been a bit of a cow lately, haven’t I?’

  ‘You haven’t been a cow,’ I tell her, although she kind of has.

  ‘I’ve just been so embarrassed,’ she admits. ‘You’re the perfect daughter, with the job and the flat, and I’m the screw-up who keeps winding up back home with no
thing.’

  ‘Claire, don’t be so hard on yourself,’ I tell her. ‘But I get why you would be, because I was too hard on you too, and I’m sorry.’

  ‘No, I’m sorry,’ she says. ‘And I’ve wanted to say it all day. Especially with it being New Year’s Eve. Life is too short.’

  That’s what Chris was going to say to me before. He was going to tell me that life was short and that’s why he interfered, to try and get me talking to my sister again, to get me back in with my family. Of course he did, family clearly means a lot to him, and I’m sure he would give anything to be able to spend New Year’s Eve with his mum, and here I am, avoiding my perfectly healthy family, for a really stupid reason.

  ‘You’re right,’ I tell her. ‘It is.’

  ‘Well, the spa said we can rebook for when they can actually open,’ she tells me. ‘So, I’ll book you a place too. I got some money for Christmas, I can afford it.’

  ‘You don’t have to do that, Claire,’ I tell her.

  ‘I’d really like to,’ she replies. ‘But I’ll have to take you up on that offer to help me find a job.’

  ‘I can do that,’ I tell her. ‘I love you, sis.’

  ‘I love you too,’ she tells me. ‘Do you want to talk to mum and dad?’

  ‘Tell you what, I’ll call back after midnight, there’s something I need to do first,’ I tell her.

  We end our call and I hurry back downstairs to find Chris.

  Everything is exactly as we left it but Chris must have gone to bed. I do hope he isn’t mad at me. I really wish I hadn’t snapped at him but I guess I was in shock. What he did really crossed a line but I get why he did it and, annoyingly, it did work. He certainly knew what he was doing.

  Perhaps the best thing I can do is let him sleep it off and talk to him in the morning. I’ll have a chat with my parents at midnight and then get some sleep – well, I didn’t get much last night – and then I’ll find out a way to patch things up with Chris in the morning.

  I think it’s my turn to make the pancakes tomorrow, don’t you?