uncomfortable silence. Nick didn’t care. He was enjoying making his parents squirm. It felt like revenge for all the times he’d sat at this table feeling angry, hurt, frustrated, inferior. He released Jackson’s arm and took another spoonful of crumble.
The conversation started up around him again as Maria began talking about returning to work after her maternity leave. Nick zoned out, eating methodically and ruminating on the past.
Jackson sat silently beside him. A flash of guilt spiked through Nick. This couldn’t be fun for Jackson. He’d ditched his own infinitely happier family Christmas for one that was full of stress and unresolved conflict. Nick deliberately shit-stirring was only making it more unpleasant for everyone—including the people around the table he didn’t have issues with. Jackson wasn’t the only one who fell into that category. He glanced at Maria and caught her worried gaze, and he resolved to try to behave better for the rest of the evening.
After dinner, they got out Pictionary, which had always been a family tradition. Apparently nothing had changed since Nick’s last Christmas Eve with them.
“How shall we decide the teams?” Pete asked.
“Why don’t you go with Nick and Jackson, and Adrian and I will make a four with Mum and Dad,” Maria suggested quickly.
Thankfully there were no arguments about that as they rearranged the seating to fit the chosen teams. Maybe everyone realised that drawing lots for their teammates could have ended badly.
“I’m always happy to be on the same team as the professional artist for this game.” Pete grinned at Nick and clapped him roughly on the shoulder as he took the seat beside him.
“Yeah, you see. I have my uses,” Nick replied. Pictionary had been the one time where anyone in his family had appreciated his talents. Pete and their mother were both equally crap at drawing, and although his father was decent, he couldn’t sketch fast under pressure. “Unfortunately my other half isn’t so gifted in the drawing department, though.” He patted Jackson on the thigh. “So you win some, you lose some.” Jackson’s leg felt wonderfully muscular through his trousers, so Nick left his hand there a little longer than necessary.
Jackson wasn’t actually that bad at drawing, and Adrian and Nick’s mother were both fairly terrible. So Nick’s team were in the lead as they were getting towards the end of the game. When they landed on the final All Play square it was Nick’s turn to draw for his team, while his father was drawing for the others.
Nick looked at the card and gave a snort of amusement. Vibrate. This should be interesting. “Here you go.” He handed the card to his father.
There was really only one easy way to draw it, so as soon as the time started Nick went in for the kill and drew a large dick shape on the page.
“Um… what the hell?” Pete said. “I didn’t think we were playing rude Pictionary!”
Nick ignored him, scribbling wiggly lines around it.
“Vibrating!” Jackson said. Nick nodded, drawing more lines and jabbing the paper with his pencil insistently. “Vibe… vibrator… vibrate!”
“Yes!” Nick burst out. “Nice one.” As Jackson grinned at him triumphantly, Nick leant in and kissed him quickly on the lips.
Jackson’s eyes widened for a second, but then he schooled his features into a casual expression that suggested he was used to Nick kissing him randomly. “Thanks,” he replied. “I do my best.”
Nick let his gaze linger on Jackson’s mouth, and his lips tingled with another echo of their less-fleeting kiss under the mistletoe earlier. He’d managed to put it out of his head during the game, and now he remembered it again he felt edgy and unsettled. Was Jackson still thinking about it too?
“Yeah, good work, lads.” Pete gave them a thumbs up. “I was no help with that one.”
“That was bloody impossible,” Nick’s father said. “How on earth did you draw that?” He peered at Nick’s drawing and his eyes widened. “Oh. Of course.”
“C’mon. How else could you draw it?” He looked at his father’s effort to see that he’d drawn a guitar with someone’s hand and a vibrating string. “Oh yeah. I see what you were going for. But my way was much easier.” He grinned. “You didn’t stand a chance.”
“Apparently not.” Nick thought he heard a hint of humour in his father’s tone, but his face didn’t give much away.
After the game they sat and watched TV for a while until Adrian started yawning and set the rest of them off.
“Come on, darling,” he