Mistletoe & Bastards Read Free Page B

stool.
    Then I saw that
twinkle in his eye again. “You were perving on my hands.”
    Now, he’d think
I wanted him. Which I didn’t. Okay, I did but I wasn’t willing to
own it just yet. It was Johnny, for God’s sake.
    “Don’t be
ridiculous… I’m, er, going to the toilet to change into this
top.”
    “Bet you were
wondering what I could do with them,” I heard him call after me.
“How about I come to the toilets and show you?”
    “How about you
don’t.”
    Clearly, Johnny
forgotten that Millie had ended up pregnant with twins after her
and Sam’s little adventure in the toilet a few months back. I had
no intention of becoming the second victim. Ignoring his guffaw, I
raced for the safety of the toilets.
    *****
     
    A short while
later and feeling more in the Christmas mood, I sat back down at
Johnny’s side. He’d lined up two tequila shots for each of us and a
red wine chaser.
    “Are you trying
to get me drunk?”
    “If it means
you’ll stop acting like the bitch from hell.” He picked up his
tequila. “Bottoms up.”
    I followed
suit, quickly sucking on the lime afterwards. Not that it stopped
my throat from burning like hell. I think it may actually have lost
all feeling.
    Johnny picked
up the second shot. “Slammer,” he noted. “Tequila with a touch of
lemonade. Swirl, swirl, slam and skull.” He demonstrated, following
the act with the smile he reserved for unsuspecting girls on a
Saturday night. Luckily, I was not unsuspecting. I copied, feeling
the warm sting of the tequila in my throat and the buzz moving to
my brain. If we kept it up at this pace I’d be on my ear in ten
minutes. I hadn’t eaten since breakfast. Two bite sized squares of
Christmas chocolate and a few hors d’oeuvres didn’t constitute a
meal that would soak up alcohol.
    “Better now?”
Johnny asked.
    “Much. I had a
bit of a sore throat until I drank that. I think you’ve cured
it.”
    “Anything for a
damsel in distress.”
    I gave Johnny a
look, picked up my fresh glass of wine and took a sip. If I hadn’t
known better, I’d have said he meant that, that he was being nice
to me. I decided not to comment.
    “What do you
think?” I indicated the shirt, which I’d attempted to nullify the
silliness of by tucking it into the waistband of my black pencil
skirt.
    Johnny nodded
in approval. “Looks hot.”
    “It’s a little
tight.”
    “I ordered it
that way on purpose—”
    Of course he
had.
    “— It’s a shame
for the world not to see your tits. They’re gorgeous.”
    Just when you
thought he was bloody normal.
    I punched him
in the arm and he winced as if it hurt.
    “Hey, did you
get your email from Kirby about the Secret Santa?” Johnny asked,
giving his arm a rub.
    I had. Kirby
had been right onto it after we’d parted ways earlier in the
afternoon. She’d sent out emails to all the gang, complete with
photos showing her pulling names from a hat to prove she hadn’t
rigged the draw for gifts. A bulleted list of acceptable and
non-acceptable items including ‘like, no rugby merchandise for
girls’ and ‘no gift vouchers because they’re like, totally, a
cop-out’, had accompanied the message.
    “I did.”
Funnily enough, I’d drawn Johnny as my Secret Santa, though I had
no clue what I was going to buy a man who had everything except a
woman. A blow up doll, maybe?
    “Who’d you
get?” he asked.
    “It’s meant to
be a fucking surprise, you fool. How did you ever get a
degree?”
    “Now, that’s
the Mel I know and love.” Johnny took a glug of wine. He swivelled
on his stool to face me. “I adore dirty talk in a woman. Swear at
me a bit more. But say it like you mean it this time.”
    “Idiot.”
    “More.”
    “Fuckwit.”
    He leant close.
“Jesus, you’re good. I’m getting hard.”
    I glanced
briefly at his crotch, then rolled my eyes realising that was
exactly what he’d wanted me to do.
    “Ha, got
you.”
    “You’re insane,
you know that?”
    He stopped
acting the