The Twelve Dates of Christmas (20 page)

‘I am, of course, paraphrasing from the most Christmassy of tales,
A Christmas Carol
. Without the author of this story, Charles Dickens, Christmas as we know it might barely exist …’

Nick was enraptured by the storytelling, his eyes lighting up with every building they passed that had some significance to
his favourite book. Claudia watched him. She couldn’t take her eyes off his mouth,
and often he caught her peeping. In those moments he would duck down and give her a light, body-tingling kiss. She was utterly
distracted.

They were in the middle of an anecdote about goose versus turkey in Victorian London when Claudia felt a cool breeze flutter
across her chest. No. This was why the majority of bras were held together with an entourage of hook-and-eyes and not just
one floaty ribbon. At the front.

The ribbon had tired of its duties and untied itself; her boobs were celebrating their escape by jumping about in their own
Christmas parade as she walked over the cobblestones. This was far from ideal. Claudia tried to unassumingly re-tie the ribbon,
but one of the group looked over at precisely the wrong moment.

Claudia turned it into an exaggerated itch.

‘Have you been bitten?’ Nick asked.

‘Yes, maybe, maybe not. Just a tickle.’

‘I’ve been bitten by something too,’ a man in woollen hat piped up, and started scratching his own chest.

The guide stopped and turned round. ‘Is everyone okay?’

‘Something’s biting us,’ said the man.

‘No, it’s nothing,’ Claudia insisted, crossing her arms over her chest as the whole group turned to look.

‘I’m a nurse,’ said a woman, stepping out of the crowd. ‘Do you want me to take a look?’

‘No thanks, it’s gone now.’ Claudia pasted on a smile and dropped her arms.
Please don’t let a pom-pom be hanging out of the bottom of my coat
. ‘You were saying?’

The walk stretched into its second hour and Claudia and her unrestrained chest could tell that even Nick was turning his mind
to tonight, becoming increasingly fiery with his snatched kisses. As the group rounded the corner of the Royal Exchange, featured
in the opening lines of
A Christmas Carol
, and Claudia was pondering if it was too early in the relationship to drag Nick inside and demand a certain ring from Tiffany,
Nick pulled her back and pressed her against the cold stone, kissing her hard.

Was it home time yet?

Claudia raced up the stairs, her heart and some other places thumping with anticipation. Nick followed close behind, his fingertips
trailing along the edge of her hips.

At the top she couldn’t bear to be an inch away from his chest any longer, and she spun around and squashed into him, pressing
her lips against his. They stumbled down the corridor, a blur of tongues, giggles and heavy breathing.

Claudia felt Nick’s hands edge under her coat and she was hit with sudden panic. The bra. It was still untied, the pom-poms
dangling. To Nick they’d feel like weird nubbins on her stomach. She squiggled her torso away from his touch and unlocked
her door.

‘What’s that smell?’ Nick sniffed the air. ‘It’s like … barbecued raisins.’

‘My mince pies!’ Oooooooooops. Claudia dropped her arms from Nick’s neck and her right leg from where it had snuck up around
his waist and ran to the kitchen. She yanked open the oven and pulled out a tray of blackened pastries.

‘How long have they been in there for?’ asked Nick, peering over her shoulder with disgust.

‘Since just before our date.’

‘Why did you leave them in the oven?’

‘I was slow-roasting them.’

‘You were slow-roasting mince pies? That’s not a real thing.’

‘I thought it would make the insides really rich, and the pastry really crumbly.’

Nick prodded one with a fork. It fell apart like ashes. ‘You got the crumbly part right.’

‘I really wanted these to be nice.’

‘I’ll try one.’

‘No, you’ll get, like, lead poisoning or something.’

‘Shut your face.’ He chewed and swallowed, rubbed his teeth and reached for a cocktail stick to pick at his gums. Then gulped
down a pint of water. ‘Delicious. What’s for dinner, Nigella?’

‘Dinner is pizza, bought from Sainsbury’s,’

‘Nice, can’t go wrong.’

‘With a festive twist.’

‘Oh no.’

‘It’ll be lovely.’

‘What’s the twist? You’re not putting a Chocolate Orange on the top, are you?’

‘Of course not. I was going to put these on it.’ She reached into the fridge and pulled out a pack of Bernard Matthews’s turkey
slices.

Nick laughed. ‘It sounds amazing; you are slowly turning into the love of my life.’

They both froze.

‘I didn’t say that,’ said Nick, scrunching his eyes closed. ‘You didn’t hear that. Let’s talk about pizza. Put the pizza in
the oven.’

With her back to Nick, Claudia sorted out her custom pizza topping. She smiled to herself. Nobody was thinking about love
yet, but she couldn’t stop thinking about tonight.

Less than an hour later, Claudia and Nick were polishing off the last of the Christmas pizza. This meant Things were Going
to Happen. Which meant Claudia needed a minute to fix her underwear and give herself a pep talk.

‘Back in a mo,’ she said, hopping off the chair. Nick caught her as she went past and pulled her down for a gentle kiss. She
knew in that kiss she didn’t need to be nervous, not really.

Claudia disappeared into her bedroom and removed her clothes. She re-tied the bra at the front and looked at herself. Her
body wasn’t perfect; it was a little podgy in places and her skin was as pale as the snow outside. Her boobs would never make
it into
Playboy
and her cellulite couldn’t be airbrushed out. But in her warm flat, with her fun new underwear and a boy she trusted more
than any other boy in the world, she’d never felt sexier.

However. Walking out there in
only
the underwear still seemed a little scary. She couldn’t put her jeans and jumper back over the top; it would be a bit of
an anti-climax for Nick. Plus nobody looked good hopping out of skinny jeans. She pulled a large pinstriped shirt out of her
wardrobe. In movies, girls always looked cute padding about in men’s shirts and little else.

It looked ridiculous. Massive and unflattering. And Nick would probably think it was Seth’s, which would be a huge buzzkill.

Her dressing gown? Not sexy.

Time was ticking away, and she was – if she could believe it – actually excited about showing off the underwear.

She had a brainwave and delved into a drawer, pulling out a soft, fine-knit man’s jumper in charcoal grey. It had a small
tear right in the middle, a peephole which showed a glimpse of her stomach. It was Nick’s. He’d left it here a couple of summers
ago and then had told her to chuck it because of the rip. It was so comfy she’d kept it to slouch about the house in.

Claudia stepped out into the living room.

Nick smiled. His eyes ran over his jumper, her bare legs and up to her face. ‘You look lovely.’

‘Happy Christmas.’ She watched him as he stepped closer.

‘Are you shaking?’ he asked.

‘A little bit.’ Okay, she just needed some time. ‘Can I get you a drink?’

Nick nodded and she moved to the kitchen, aware of his eyes on her legs. Did he think they looked big? No, she didn’t think
he did.

‘What are we having?’ asked Nick, putting his arms around her from behind as she unscrewed the Baileys and a bottle of red
wine. He kissed her neck.

‘It’s a cocktail I’ve invented,’ she stuttered.
Calm down
. ‘It’s called a Santa’s Hat. You put some red wine in a glass, and then top it with Baileys, and the Baileys floats … Oh.’
The Baileys didn’t float. It dribbled into the wine, curdling, and looking like a lump of bloodied brain matter.

‘Is that supposed to happen?’ Nick picked up his glass and took a sip, trickling it straight back out into the glass. ‘It’s
delicious.’

‘Bleurgh,’ said Claudia. ‘How can two such yummy things be such enemies when they come together?’

‘Let’s hope that doesn’t happen to us.’ Nick guffawed immediately. ‘What a terrible line! Sorry about that.’

‘How about just a wine or Baileys, straight up?’

‘Baileys for me, please.’

Claudia poured two tumblers of the creamy liqueur while Nick fiddled with her stereo and the mellow sounds of the Michael
Bublé Christmas album floated out.

They smiled at one another.

‘Cheers,’ said Claudia quietly.

‘Cheers.’

‘This might surprise you,’ said Nick, putting down his glass and folding his arms. ‘But, tough and manly as I am, I’m a bit
nervous about you seeing me in the buff. Not that I don’t have the body of Ryan Gosling under here, it’s just I don’t want
you to faint in a rush of oestrogen or anything.’

‘I’m nervous, too, though you may mistake me for Mila Kunis in a moment,’ Claudia replied. She felt shy, but more than anything
she wanted to take the plunge.

It was time.

In time with the brass instrumental of ‘Santa Baby’, Claudia peeled off Nick’s jumper, revealing her Mrs Claus ensemble. Nick
let out a low whistle and looked at her tenderly.

‘You …’ he whispered. ‘
Underweary
you. Oh my God.’

Claudia struck a pose, shaking the pom-poms.

‘You look magnificent.’ He smiled, his eyes briefly meeting hers, then dropping in awe.

Surely not
magnificent
? Suddenly she felt a bit of a lemon standing there. She hopped up on to the kitchen counter and crossed her legs, her hands
on her knees. ‘You like my lingerie?’ She batted her eyelashes.

‘I love it,’ said Nick, stepping closer. He pulled off his jumper, the shirt underneath rising and giving her a glimpse of
a stomach that sent her hormones into a teenage-girl frenzy.

But he couldn’t put his hands on her yet! She would collapse into giggles, she just knew it; her skin was already tingling
with goose bumps and anticipation. Claudia shimmied down from the counter, surreptitiously removing the wedgie she’d given
herself, and danced towards the sofa where she threw another coquettish pose, leaning backwards, one leg kicking up in the
air.

‘Sexy underwear,’ she sang, immediately cementing her unsexiness. Come on Claudia, don’t mess this up.

Nick’s fingers visibly shook as he undid the buttons on his shirt. He gyrated his hips to the music, the movements getting
bigger and bigger until he looked at her, bashful. ‘This is just not hot, is it?’

‘Why are you nervous? You have
nothing
to be nervous about.’

‘Not true. What if I take off my pants and my penis is released and it hits you in the face?’

‘Is it really that big?’

‘Yes. If I were in
Game of Thrones
I totally wouldn’t need a sword. And, um, you do make me very horny.’ He cringed the moment the words were out of his mouth.

Christ, this was awkward. ‘I want you so much.’

‘You want me, you, just – why don’t you take me.’ He ripped off his shirt.

‘Why don’t you take me?’ Claudia kicked her leg over the sofa and strode across the cushions like a giraffe who’d escaped
the zoo.

‘Right then.’

Claudia leant against the Christmas tree and pulled another pin-up pose. Unfortunately, she kicked the wrong leg out behind
her and leant her full weight on her bad ankle, which buckled at precisely the wrong moment.

She stumbled, grabbing the branches of the tree, clinging on to baubles, tugging at the tinsel, until seconds later she tumbled
to the ground. Nick reached her just as she wrenched the plug for the Christmas tree lights out of the socket and with a
pff
they were plunged into darkness.

‘Are you okay?’ he asked, serious, kind,
hers
. Her breathing quieted and suddenly she didn’t feel the need for theatrics or lines. She just needed him. She stared up at
his dimly lit chest, illuminated only by the Christmas lights of the street outside shining through the window.

Claudia leant up on her elbows and kissed his chest. It tasted salty, of nervous sweat, and smelt like Baileys and man deodorant
and all the delicious things that can get a girl going.

Nick stroked her hair back from her face and trailed his fingers, which were no longer shaking, down her neck to her collarbone.
She prayed her boob hadn’t fallen out in the fall.

She ran both hands around his sides and onto his back, using all the core muscles she didn’t think she had to hold her body
up off the ground and close to his. His skin was silk. ‘You’re lovely,’ she murmured.

He wrapped defined arms around her torso, taking her weight and pulling her close, putting his face tantalisingly close to
hers. He paused and they breathed each other in and out.

‘You’re covered in prickles,’ he whispered. ‘And I’m not calling myself a prickle.’ Gently he helped her up and brushed the
pine needles from her back, causing a meteor shower to burst across her skin in his wake.

Claudia winced at the needles spiking into her feet and Nick, being so unbearably fanciable in every way – even more unbearable
because he’d kept it secret all these years – scooped her up in his arms and carried her across her flat to her bedroom. It
took seconds, but felt like hours.

Nick lay her down on the bed like she weighed nothing. Her mind was a blur as he crouched by her feet and pulled out the needles.
It was only when butterfly kisses started creeping up her ankles, up her shins, that she snapped back to reality.

‘Wait, no, no, no,’ she cried.

‘What?’

‘You have to start at the top. I don’t want the first time you see my
thing
to be in extreme close-up.’

‘Damn.’ Nick grinned and pulled himself up, sliding his body over hers.

They broke apart an inch. ‘It unties at the front,’ Claudia whispered. Nick held her gaze as his hand moved to the front of
her bra, pulling at the pom-pom achingly slowly.

Claudia had never, hand on heart, shriek it from the rafters, wanted to have sex this badly ever before.