Mistletoe & Bastards (4 page)

“Johnny.” I
pulled the robe more tightly around me.

“Only me.” He
wobbled a little on his feet, a goofy smile on his face.

“Yes, I can see
that.” And smell it. He reeked of scotch. “Why are you here?”

“I wanted to
check if you were okay. You never came out of the toilet.” He leant
towards me, the fumes almost overpowering me. I stepped backward
and he fell face first onto the hall runner. “Oops! There’s a step
there.” He let out a giggle that was so girlish I wished I’d had a
recorder on me to use it as evidence when he started taking the
piss out of me later on.

Hands
instinctively riding to my hips, I graced him with my most
disapproving look, which apparently went straight over his drunken
head and floated out the window in a cloud of alcohol fumes.

“Gimme a hand,
my little dove.”

Oh. My. God.
I’d give him more than a hand. He was so drunk. More drunk than I’d
ever seen him and that was saying something. What the hell was he
doing on my doorstep in that condition, well any condition, really.
How the hell did he even know where I lived?

“How did you
get my address?”

As I said, I
liked to keep my home life private.

“Millie texted
it to me.”

Clearly, my
friend was suffering from a touch of pregnancy brain and I was
going to be left to clean up the mess. Again. Honestly, what was
with these people?

“Come on,
then.” I put my palm into his and we both tugged. Not a wise idea
in hindsight.

Suddenly, I was
on top of him. I could feel his broad chest against my hands, which
were crushed between us. I had to get up before he put me over the
limit from the inhalation of his exhalations.

“Oh Mel, you’re
so pretty, so beautiful,” he whispered. He gazed into my eyes and
hiccupped. Then he pulled the Santa hat off his head and put it
onto mine. As his hands adjusted it, his fingers grazed the skin on
the side of my face. “There. Very cute.”

Hmm
.
Cute and I were not concepts usually put in the same sentence. I
reached up to remove the hat but he stopped me. His eyes bored into
my head and I wanted to laugh at the absurdity of the situation but
for some reason I couldn’t. My heart was beating incredibly fast
and it was all I could do not to put my lips to his.

Shit. Shit.
Shit. This would never do.

Pushing my
hands into Johnny’s chest, I tried to roll off which of course only
made him hold me tighter. His arms, big and strong had me wrapped
in an embrace that almost made me lose my breath. And it would have
felt awfully nice if his hard on hadn’t been poking me in the
leg.

“You’re only
saying that because you’re drunk,” I grumbled, making another
feeble attempt to get away. “Now let me go, you oaf, before I
scream. You don’t want to be waking old Mrs Fenton next door.
She’ll hit you with a bloody frying pan.”

Johnny tittered
again. “I love it when you talk dirty. Say something else. Get me
all hot and bothered.”

Hadn’t we been
there already tonight? Shoving Johnny in the chest, I scrambled to
my knees. “You’re an idiot.”

“I just saw
your boob then.”

Which, judging
by the look on his face had made his night. I pulled at the robe
and did up the sash that seemed to have come undone in the
fall.

“
Aww
.
Whaddya go and do that for, Mel?”

“Because you
shouldn’t be looking at my breasts. Now get up off my carpet before
I
hit you with a frying pan.”

Johnny seemed
to get the drift and he rolled to his knees following me into the
lounge.

“I love what
you’ve done with the decorations this year.”

“It took me
hours. Not.”

There wasn’t a
single decoration in the house. My one concession to Christmas was
the card sitting on the mantle that my mother had sent from Sydney.
It sat next to a tiny tree Millie had given me to ‘get me in the
spirit.’ If it had been anyone else I would have tossed it in the
bin. But Millie had a soft heart and she was only trying to make me
feel better. I couldn’t be mean to her.

Johnny plonked
onto the couch and kicked off his shoes, making himself at home. He
picked up the remote and flicked the channel to Fox Sports where
amazingly enough he found an old Wallabies game. Bloody rugby.
Couldn’t we ever get away from it? He studied it for a bit before
asking, “Got anything to drink?”

“Green tea.
Coffee. Water. Juice. You can have one drink and then leave. I have
an early start in the morning and it’s past eleven.”

“We don’t have
to work. Office is closed till after Christmas.” He hooked his
socked foot over the arm of the sofa.

“I know but I
want to go to the gym. If I don’t go I get into bad habits.”

“Now there’s a
thought.”

Ignoring his
waggling eyebrows, I stomped into the kitchen. The quicker I gave
him a drink and rang him a cab the faster he’d be gone. And I
wanted Johnny to be gone. Not because I didn’t like him or because
he was being an annoying shit but more because I was afraid of the
way my feelings seemed to be changing, despite his idiocy. As soon
as I’d opened the door and discovered it was him my heart had begun
to do backflips. And I wanted to smile at his silly rubbish, which
was so not me. I was beginning to like Johnny in a way that was no
longer carefully guarded disdain. I feared I actually had the hots
for him.

Clearly, I had
to blame Sam and Millie for this. If they hadn’t had a wedding I
would never have gotten drunk and let him kiss me because I was
lonely. It was entirely their fault.

The coffee
machine turned on to heat up, I took two cups from the cupboard,
setting them on the bench. I was in the process of grinding the
coffee for a short black when I felt a pair of hands snaking around
my body.

“You feel
nice,” Johnny whispered, his breath warm against my neck. “Smell
nice too. All soapy clean.” He gave my earlobe a nip and I
quivered. Only a little, mind.

“If you don’t
let me go I’m going to lift my heel into your balls, Johnny. Now.”
I made a slight movement to raise my foot and his hands instantly
dropped. He moved beside me and turned, leaning back against the
bench so we were face to face. Suddenly, he seemed very sober. A
little too sober.

“Why do you
hate me?”

“I don’t hate
you. I just don’t like your behaviour most of the time. You’re so…
so… immature.”

This coming
from a woman wearing a Santa hat with her nightwear. I took the hat
off and placed it on the counter.

“I can be very
mature when I put my mind to it. See?” Johnny straightened and
threw back his shoulders. His face changed from jovial to dead
serious in the space of a nano-second. “I can be a grown up, no
fun, lawyer type if that’s what you want. Is that what you
want?”

A heaving sigh
escaped my lips. “I’d die of boredom, you know I would.”

“Then let me
love you. Let me in. It’s time to thaw out that little ice queen
heart of yours and feel something, Mel. I can help you with that.
I’m quite good at getting things hot — or so I’ve been told.” He
shuffled a step closer to me and taking the teaspoon from my
fingers, placed it on the bench.

“Is that so?”
The flirty words left my mouth before I had a chance to stop them.
Traitors.

Johnny moved
even closer. His mouth quirked and my heart fluttered a little in
my chest. His hip pressed against mine and his hand gently skirted
up my side to take hold of me and draw me closer to him. My
breathing hitched.

Nooo
!
This couldn’t be happening. I couldn’t be getting hot for Johnny. I
was a sensible, intelligent woman. I could not be having feelings
for this nutcase. Even if he did look smokin’ in that red
t-shirt.

Johnny leant
forward and put his lips to mine. Fireworks in red, green and gold
began to explode before my eyes.

Okay. So it
appeared I could be having feelings for this nutcase.

He pulled me
closer, his chest against mine. He kissed me again and I think I
may even have moaned a little, despite myself. But it was when his
hand slid tentatively up to cup my breast I lost all sense of
reason. I couldn’t think. I couldn’t not think. I was melting with
desire. The sensation of his lips on mine, his tongue in my mouth
and his hands on my body had catapulted me into some form of
excited sexual oblivion. And I liked it. I actually liked it.

Damn him. The
Bastard.

I woke up the
next morning to the smell of bacon cooking and the sound of
Christmas carols. Given that I did not keep bacon in the house as a
rule or play Christmas carols, especially ones that featured Mariah
Carey or Justin Bieber, I feared I may have been the victim of an
alien abduction in my sleep. I had been transported into some other
girl called Mel’s flat and was laying in her bed staring confused
at the ceiling while she’d awoken to find herself in my calm Zen
space — without Jingle Bell Rock — and was loving the peace and
serenity.

I looked about
me. Nope. Definitely at home.

Which could
only mean one thing.

That dream I’d
had last night about having sex with Johnny had not been a
dream.

Shit, shit and
fucking shit.

Leaping from
the bed, I scrambled in the drawer for some fresh gym gear and
quickly got dressed. I could not deal with this now. I could not
have this man invading my space and cooking things whilst wearing —
I peeked around the bedroom door. OH GOD — the Santa hat and a pair
of Christmas boxer shorts. To make matters worse, the shorts had a
picture of three baubles and a caption that read ‘nice balls.’

Surely he
hadn’t been wearing those last night? There was no way I would have
had sex with him if he were, I would have been laughing too much.
Though, in my defence it was dark and he did get his gear off
rather quickly. At the time, I’d thought it was because he couldn’t
believe his luck but in hindsight…
hmm
.

No. I had to
put a stop to this before he got ideas that we were entering into
some sort of ‘friends with benefits’ thing. Because Johnny would
never be capable of a full-blown relationship. He was the most
fickle person I knew and while I had no regrets about becoming a
notch on his bedpost — okay, well maybe one teensy one — there was
not going to be a repeat performance. Ours had been a one-night
stand. We could finish this now before it began and go back to the
banter that was the basis of our friendship before either of us got
hurt. Well, before I got hurt. I didn’t know that Johnny was
capable of feeling hurt. He was too busy acting the fool.

Fully dressed
and made up, I walked into the kitchen.

“Well, if it
isn’t Santa’s little helper.” He turned to me, his face registering
that I was clothed in something other than his red t-shirt. “You’re
a little dressed up for this hour of the morning. Going
somewhere?”

“The gym. I
have a date with a Pump class.”

Johnny’s face
dropped. He went from cat-that-got-the-cream to the-milk’s-off
faster than I could have thought it. “But I made us breakfast.
Bacon is great for a hangover.”

“I know. And
thanks. But I can’t eat before I exercise. I’ll throw up.” I
watched as he turned off the gas on the cooktop. He stood with his
arms folded, studying me. I don’t think he really knew how to
react.

“Okay. I’ll
come with you then. We can stop by my place on the way and I’ll
grab something to wear. Don’t know how I’ll go though. Exercise and
copious amounts of tequila haven’t proven to be a good mix in the
past.”

“Probably
better if you just go home, then. Besides I have a heap of errands
to run, I wont’ be back for ages—” I reached for my car keys. I
couldn’t meet his eyes. I couldn’t look because if I did I’d change
my mind. “—But you stay. Eat breakfast. Slam the door when you
leave. I’ll see you on Friday at Sam and Millie’s.” I kissed his
cheek and before he had a chance reply, I was out the door. If
there had been a gold medal for swift departures in awkward
situations, I would have won it by a mile.

The door of the
lift was opening as I reached it and I leapt in thankfully, almost
knocking Mrs Fenton and her shopping trolley into next week. She
gave me a strange look, like I had something stuck in my hair or
something. So much so, that I actually reached into my hair to
check but there was nothing wrong. Then, as the doors of the lift
closed and I leant against the mirrored wall, tears began to
come.

I never cried.
Yet, here I was sobbing my lungs out.

Why had I done
that? Why had I pushed Johnny away? All he’d done was try to be
nice to me, to woo me, and I wouldn’t let him, I couldn’t let him.
As soon as he’d gotten that look on his face I’d had to run. It
wasn’t him; it was me. I was such a fuck-up.

Big plops of
tears ran down my face and dripped off the end of my jaw. I had no
inclination to wipe them away and even if I had there would have
been more, so it seemed slightly pointless. It was as if every bad
thing that had ever happened in my life, things I thought I’d
locked away so successfully, had come to the surface.

Fuck. Fuck.
Fuck.

I hated him for
doing this to me. I hated him for making me feel. But mostly I
hated myself for being such a bitch to him when there had been
absolutely no reason for it other than I was a bitch. Just like
he’d said, I was the ice queen. My heart would never thaw.

I arrived home
late in the afternoon, following a lunch alone on the lawn at
Parliament House and an unplanned shopping expedition whilst
wearing gym gear. Johnny had been on my mind the entire day — hence
my need for retail therapy— and the thoughts I’d been having had
swung heavily between wanting a repeat performance of that thing he
did to me last night and mild abhorrence of the entire episode. I
still couldn’t get my head around the fact that I’d slept with him…
and liked it.