Finding Evan

by Lisa Swallow

“Because you talking like this fucking turns me on!”

  “Touch me.” She slides my hand between her legs, and the slickness removes the last part of self-control I have. Lips on hers, I groan into Ness’s mouth. The last thing I want are her parents hearing sex noises from the guest room.

  Ness refuses to budge when I attempt to turn her over. She’s in control and this suits me. I slide my fingers inside her, and she moans bending towards me, her hands on the bed either side of my head. Her skin is impossibly soft, and the mingled fragrances of her shampoo, perfume, and sex switches off any remaining civilized part of my brain. In the dim light, we lock gazes.

  She wriggles away from my fingers and grabs me, positioning my dick so the tip touches her wet centre. Ness’s hair tickles as she moves her face to my ear. “Fuck me.”

  “Jesus! Ness.” I thrust into her and she sits back on me, holding my hips so I have to remain still.

  “Shush!”

  Ness runs her hands across my chest, and I trace mine along her back, luxuriating in the feeling of being inside her. Connected. Us. In a moment in time where nothing else exists apart from our bodies joined. This isn’t sex. This isn’t even making love. What passes between us may be promoted by her drunken need, but the moment we’re in solidifies one thought in my mind.

  Ness is part of me.

  I don’t think I could live my life without her.

  The combination of pure lust and the intense emotion flowing through overwhelms me with the need to tell her how I feel. Ness recognizes something in my eyes, because she moves forward, vanilla-scented hair washing over me as she sucks on my bottom lip until I part my mouth and allow her tongue in. I grab her hips and thrust, Ness moaning into my mouth, her breathing speeds towards orgasm. I like slow with Ness, teasing her, bringing her to the brink, then stopping. But sometimes, this frantic, dirty sex is perfect.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  EVAN

  Ness stayed with me, fitting into the perfect space against my chest as she does in my life, and we fell asleep. She’s gone when I wake up the next morning, adding more fun to the illicitness of the night before. I stretch out, the buzz of the night before running through me still.

  Christmas Day.

  Before we came to her parents’ house, Ness gave me a run down on the Armstrong Christmas Day traditions and my head spun. The whole day sounds like a precise military operation. Jeez, I even need to get dressed up again. No slouching on the sofa with a Christmas hat on my head and a beer in hand for me today. I hope there’s enough alcohol to get me through today.

  I shower and dress in jeans and T-shirt before looking for Ness. I find her in the kitchen wearing the pajamas which were on my bedroom floor last night. Dark rings sit beneath her eyes, and her hair is sex tousled. She sips coffee, and my body flares at the images from last night snapping back into my mind.

  “Morning, butterfly girl.” I can’t help the smile creeping across my face.

  “I drank too much,” she says quietly.

  “Hmm. I noticed.”

  Ness meets my knowing look and bites her lip to fight a smile. She’s on a stool, elbows resting on the kitchen bench, holding a mug of coffee. I sit next to Ness and stroke her cheek.

  “I wish you’d been there when I woke up.”

  “I didn’t want to get caught sneaking out,” she whispers.

  “Can I have my good morning kiss, then?” I ask, separating some of her tangled hair with my fingers.

  “How about a Happy Christmas kiss instead?” Ness places her soft lips on mine, pulling my mind back to last night. “Our first Christmas together…”

  I don’t a hundred percent get why this is such a big deal to Ness. Maybe my extended family’s lack of interest or Christmas tradition makes the day ordinary to me. I remember last Christmas, not long after we first started dating, Ness childlike in her excitement to go home. I wasn’t invited last year, which irritated me a little, but things were new between us then.

  This year, I have no choice in the matter. Ness made the decision, and the excitement in her face when she explained all the fun we were going to have stopped me from saying I wasn’t sure about going with her. Spending time in her alien world terrifies me, especially after Ness’s parents inadvertently got involved with Lucy’s incident last year. The working-class Northerner with the mad sister – just who you don’t want your beautiful, clever daughter involved with.

  But I have been welcomed, and her parents are attempting to make me feel at home. And if Christmas is so important to Ness, her wanting me here is important too.

  “So, where’s the timetable then?” I ask.

  “Timetable?”

  “Of events.”

  She groans and pokes me. “Ha ha.”

  “Okay, so are you going to come back upstairs and tell me what I need to wear?” I ask her, lowering my voice.

  Ness ignores the implication. “Sure, I have the jumper picked out.”

  “Jumper?” I frown at her.

  “Oh! Sorry, I forgot to mention…everyone has to wear a Christmas-themed jumper.”

  I narrow my eyes, but Ness’s face is straight and I believe her. “Christmas-themed?”

  “I think you’re more of a Santa than a reindeer type; the red will suit you better.”

  There it is, the tiny hint of a smile she’s attempting to control. Is she taking the piss? “And what jumper are you wearing?”

  “Only the men wear them. They’re passed down through the generations. I’ll go and find one. Wait here.” I open my mouth to respond, positive she’s winding me up now. “Help yourself to breakfast.”

  Unsure what to make of this, I remain on the stool and pour myself some juice. The snow from last night has settled, thick on the ground in Ness’s picture postcard village. The family’s black Labrador wanders in and sniffs me, wagging his tail. I tense as I hear footsteps on the stairs, in case her mum or dad come in while I’m on my own. And if it is one of them, whether they heard anything last night.

  Ness reappears in the door, eyes glinting, and holding a bunched up woolen jumper. A red one with a pattern I can’t make out. She holds up the voluminous item, and to my horror, she’s telling the truth. Knitted into the pattern is a huge, jolly Santa face with a Christmas tree border.

  “You’re serious?” I say.

  Stepping forward, Ness hands the jumper to me. “Put this on.”

  “Seriously?”

  Ness’s dad walks into the kitchen and eyes us curiously. “Morning you two, and happy Christmas!”

  I leap back from Ness even though I’m not touching her, because it seems inappropriate to get too close. Ness sniggers and shifts towards me, wrapping an arm around my waist.

  “Why have you got that out?” he asks.

  “Evan’s cold and doesn’t have a jumper.” The sideways glance and barely contained amusement makes me want to grab her. She knows I can’t.

  “I’m not! You said there was a tradition.”

  Ness’s dad laughs. “That’s mean, Nessie.”

  “Yes,Nessie.”

  Her face falls, and Ness’s dad winks at me; I’m thankful we’re colluding and love the ammunition he just gave me. “Dad!”

  “I’m sure Evan feels uncomfortable enough around us without you making things worse.” He shakes his head and walks to the coffee machine.

  In a weird way, her joke has helped, because I now know her dad is okay with me. Last night, guests preoccupied him and he didn’t say much to me. I get the feeling he’s an important person in the village. He’s tall with greying hair, and has a presence that mixes aloof with friendly, which must be hard to pull off. Maybe it’s a doctor thing.

  Ness giggles and rubs the back of her hand along my face. “I’d better get dressed. And so should you. You need a shave.” She drapes the jumper over my shoulder and hightails it out of the kitchen.

  ***

  NESS

  I feel rough. Really rough. I lost count of the glasses of cham
pagne I had last night. I’m not a big drinker, but champagne is the one drink I like that flows down too easily. Clear memories of dickhead-Josh combine with hazier memories of creeping into the guest room to see Evan. I woke up in bed with him, and as memories of how I got there and what we did filtered through, I groaned. Not because I’m embarrassed about what I did, but because we could’ve got caught and ruined any chance of mum and dad liking him. I doubt they’d believe their drunken, sex-crazed daughter instigated the episode.

  Seeing Evan uncomfortable in the kitchen warms me to him further. He’s doing this for me, and whatever he told me, I know he didn’t want to do this. Evan wanted to stay in Leeds, just the two of us.

  I’m eager to show Evan around the village and leave my stressed mother to her Christmas dinner preparations. So, with Sam the Labrador in tow, we set off towards the village. I reckon I live in the best part of England for white Christmases. I know tourists love the picturesque Cotswold cottages when they’re transformed into cozy Christmas hideaways, the small shops selling traditional English Christmas fare adding to the vibe. The village is quieter because it’s Christmas Day, adding to the peace and happiness of sharing the time with Evan. We follow the winding village streets and rows of snow-covered roofs towards Sam’s favorite field. Sam trots along, wagging his tail, pulling me in the direction he wants to go. He keeps jumping up and licking Evan’s face, who looks genuinely grossed out.

  “At least one of your family likes me,” he says, wiping dog drool from his face.

  “They do like you.”

  “They haven’t got to know me yet.” He pulls my woolen hat over my ears.

  I stop and put a gloved hand on his cheek. “They do like you. And if for some mad reason they decided they didn’t, I don’t care.”

  I punctuate my sentence with a kiss on his cool lips.

  Evan draws me into him and shoves his hands into the back pockets of my jeans. “So I want to swap Christmas presents with you later. Where is that on the schedule? Or can we find time to unwrap ours alone?”

  He turns on his sexy smirk and suggestive tone, firing heat to warm my cold face. In return, I hold his face in gloved hands and rub my cool nose against him. “You got mine already. This morning.”

  “This morning? You mean at one am? Even though we said no sexual relations…” He grips my hips tighter and his warm breath against my ear makes me squirm.

  “Are you saying I’m a woman of loose morals?” I reply with mock horror, and push him in the chest.

  Evan pulls an equally mock face of hurt and steps back. “What? I like you being a woman of loose morals.”

  “By this morning, I meant the jumper. And I’m really sad you didn’t wear it!” I put my hands on my hips and pout.

  “Embarrassing me in front of your dad!”

  When I laugh at him, Evan bends down and picks up snow. Before I realize what he’s doing, a snowball hits my chest.

  “You big kid!” I shout, and bend down to grab some snow of my own.

  The next few minutes are spent dodging each other’s snowballs, although Evan’s a better shot than me, and definitely looks less of a snowman than I do by the end. Sam barks and leaps around, grabbing at ankles and pawing at us. The childish moment between us turns life as bright as the winter sun shining on the snow.

  “Stop!” I cry through my laughter, holding my hands in defeat.

  Evan pauses, snowball in his gloved hand. “You surrender?”

  “You win.”

  “Oh good. Do I get to choose a prize?” The glint returns to his eyes, and his reddened cheeks glow beneath his snow covered hair.

  I cross my arms over my chest. “Nope.”

  Evan approaches, snow in hand.

  “Put the snowball down!” I demand.

  Tossing the snowball against a nearby tree, Evan wraps me in his arms. “I only want a kiss.” I peck his cheek. “You can do better than that…”

  Slowly, I lick my lips and laugh as he leans forward to pull my bottom lip into his mouth. His tongue flicks against mine, and he catches me in a kiss filled with fire to melt the cold. Completely focused on the moment, Evan doesn’t notice I still have a snowball. Not until I shove the cold snow down his neck.

  Evan drops his hands and pulls at his coat. “Ness!” The look of surprise on his face is worth the snowy assault I know is coming.

  Giggling, I charge across the field with Sam and Evan in pursuit. Evan soon catches me and tackles me to the ground, the pair of us landing in the soft snowdrift. Evan pulls my hat off and fills it with snow.

  “No!” I protest.

  “A proper kiss with no tricks this time, or this goes on your head,” he says, and moves his face to mine.

  Evan’s hair is soaked with snow and dripping down his face, so I remove my glove and wipe his face with a finger. “Kiss me then, poetry boy.”

  Evan grabs my hand and sucks the water from my finger. “Sure thing, butterfly girl.”

  His lips are cold as they meet mine, but his kiss is warm and tender. We lie in the snow, but I could equally be on a sunny beach, in bed, or even in the middle of the road, because the instance we’re caught in wipes the whole world from around us.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  NESS

  Melted snow drips to the floor in the entrance hall when we get back to the house. Now that we’re apart, I shiver in my damp, cold clothes, and I start to regret lying in the snow kissing Evan for so long.

  I peel off my gloves, shaking snow on the floor, and Evan does the same. Christmas carols filter from the kitchen, and the happy Christmas glow flows back into me.

  Pushing a tendril of damp hair behind my cold ear, Evan kisses me softly. “I like this Ness.”

  I don’t respond, but I know what he means. Happy and relaxed. Allowing him close; trusting he loves me.

  “I’m going to shower and get ready for Christmas lunch,” I tell Evan, unzipping my coat.

  His eyes widen. “Can I come?” I raise an eyebrow. “Okay, wishful thinking.”

  We pad across the hallway and upstairs, where I pause and kiss him. “Get changed. I’ll be down in about fifteen minutes.”

  “Hurry up,” he whispers.

  “My parents aren’t that scary!”

  Evan smiles. “I know. I just want to spend every moment with you.”

  ***

  EVAN

  This is a different world, but one I could get used to. Like we’re back in Europe, but with snow instead of sun. Real life is distant, and we’re living in a cocooned happy place again. Okay, with her parents on the edges of the world, but it’s me and her, and a snowy English Christmas village. How much more cliché romance could I fit into one week?

  As I peel off my soggy clothes, I grin, remembering the combination of the playful Ness and sexy Ness. Sexiness. She hates when I call her those names, but being able to add -ness to words winds her up. And amuses me.

  Staring at the shirt and trousers hung over the wardrobe, I rub an eyebrow. I need to suit up. On Christmas Day. The strange world isn’t just the white one outside.

  Shivering, I grab a towel and head for the ensuite. Ensuite? We have one bathroom. Ness’s house must have at least three. Yep. Different world.

  My phone rings.

  I wander over and look down; whoever’s calling can wait. Lucy. Who else would it be? I groan; I know she’s pissed off about me missing Christmas at home, but I promised I’d call when I got a chance. Refusing to answer, I head for the shower.

  After ten minutes of fighting images of Ness in the shower from my mind, and how inappropriate it’d be acting on those thoughts in her parents’ shower, I wrap myself in a towel and head for the day’s unwanted uniform. Part of me wishes tacky jumpers were the dress code. At least I’d be comfortable.

  The phone rings again and Lucy’s name flashes on the screen. I sit on the bed and pick the phone up, waiting for it to stop ringing. I’ll call her when it suits me. The call ends and the screen lights up: eig
hteen missed calls and ten messages. In the last two hours. Lucy’s number.

  Worlds collide again. No. Lucy can’t do this.

  And I can’t ignore it.

  Annoyed at my shaking hands, I dress quickly, then dial Lucy’s number. I don’t hear the phone ring before Lucy’s voice sounds.

  “Evan?”

  When I call or speak to Lucy, there’s certain tones I recognize. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out this one. Panic. I switch into ‘calm-Lucy-the-fuck-down mode’.

  “I know you’re desperate to wish me a Happy Christmas, but…”

  “I need your help.”

  Four words. Four fucking words Lucy hits me with. Again. I suck a breath through my teeth. “With what? I’m free in a few days. I said I’d come over between Christmas and New Year.”

  “I came to see Faye, and our brother and sister, and then I got here and he’s here on his own, and the house is cold, and she’s not here, andfuck…he was on his own, Evan! And then Jade came and she said her mum hasn’t been home for two days, and I was going to take them to Dad’s, and then my car won’t start, so I’m here.”

  The room lurches as my brain scrambles to keep up with Lucy’s incoherence.

  “Start again. What’s happening? Where are you?”

  Lucy huffs a breath and slows down. “I came to Sheffield to bring them Christmas presents. I found Brandon alone in the house. And Jade says she doesn’t know where Mum…Faye…is.”

  “I don’t get what you’re telling me.”

  “Your three-year-old brother was alone in a cold house on Christmas Day!” Lucy’s voice cracks.

  “Where is she? Faye?”

  “I just said, no one knows!”

  “Where are you?”

  She snorts. “McDonalds.”

  “Why?”

  “Evan, are you listening to me? I couldn’t leave him alone in the house; the place was freezing. Honestly, ice on the inside of the windows. And his mum left him - he was alone on Christmas Day. What sort of mum does that?”

  I want to yell ‘our mum’ because this situation shocks but doesn’t surprise me. “So what do you want me to do? I’m more than two hours away, Lucy!”