Merry Measure - Lily Morton Page 0,38
in Jack Cooper,” I admit.
“Don’t give up,” he says fiercely, giving me a hug. “I know he’s interested and you’re so right for each other.”
“Are we, though?” I ask despairingly. “This whole thing with Derek and Barbara just confirms how stupidly we’re behaving. I’ll never be who they envision their son ending up with. That’s perfect Steven. I’m just Jack’s best friend’s little brother and nothing more. They have so much sway over Jack that it’s probably not worth carrying on.” I pause. “I’m not even sure what exactly is happening between us anyway. It was just sex.”
He gives a muted squeal. “You’ve had sex?”
“Shush!” I hiss. Luckily, it appears that nobody overheard him. “I’m sorry. Are you twelve? Don’t you need to get to class?” I yelp as he pinches me. “Yes, we gave each other incendiary-level blow jobs, but I’m pretty sure nothing is going to come of it. We were both drunk off our tits and I’m not going to get my hopes up, because it’s probably going to end in total disaster.”
“It will not,” he says fiercely. “You’re so right together.” I scoff. “You are,” he says insistently. “I’ve always thought it.”
“We are not.” I shake my head. “Even if we slept together, it doesn’t mean anything. I’m as far away from being like any of his previous boyfriends as Steven is to a pleasant personality.”
Bee huffs and for a moment we stand quietly, listening to the carollers. “You’re like this carol,” he says finally.
“Loud and occasionally a little bit out of tune?”
“No. You’re the merry one, and Jack is measured. Together, the two of you will work. You’ll balance each other out.”
I shake my head. “I think the carol is actually referencing dancing. Measure is the old word for a dance.”
“Alright, Teacher Wright. And what else is a relationship? It’s a dance between people.”
“I pity you, then, because Tom has always had two left feet.”
He makes a face at me. “I’m being serious. You need to give Jack a chance.”
I stare unseeingly at the carollers. “I didn’t even know it was a bloody option,” I say. “Anyway, I’ve done enough. It’s up to Jack now to get on with his side of the fa la la’s.”
The Italian restaurant is on the corner of a little street a mile away from the hotel. It’s small and incredibly noisy, even at lunch, with big crowds of people eating and drinking. Their chatter competes with the clatter of plates and glasses and “I Was Born on Christmas Day” by Saint Etienne playing in the background.
There are heavenly smells coming from the kitchen, and my stomach rumbles. I briefly mourn the lost breakfast at the hotel that was paid for, but I’ll happily move on to lunch.
We’re greeted by a smiling dark-haired waitress, and after Tom gives her the name of the booking, we all occupy ourselves taking off our coats and hats and scarves. We’re a noisy group, and I smile at Freddy taking the piss out of Tom as I unwind my scarf from my neck. As I put the scarf in my pocket, I realise it’s Jack’s scarf. I’ve still got it. No wonder Steven was glaring at me earlier.
Someone comes up next to me, and I step aside to make room. My arm is gripped lightly. I take a sharp breath and turn to find Jack staring at me. I swallow hard.
“Hi,” I say. I immediately want to kick myself in my teeth. Hi? Could I be any more ridiculous?
He doesn’t appear to notice my triteness. He gives me a nervous smile. “I need to talk to you,” he says in a low voice.
“Well, I think you’re a bit occupied.” I glance at Steven, who is eyeing the restaurant with a supercilious expression on his face.
“Not with him,” he says dismissively. “Please, Arlo, we need to talk.”
“It’s okay,” I whisper. It might be wrong to act defensively at this moment, but I’d rather not hear his apologies. “I know you think what we did was a mistake.”
He looks flabbergasted. “I think it was a what?”
I stare at him. “It was a—”
“What are you doing?”
We both jump and turn to find Tom eyeing us suspiciously. “Every time I turn around, you’ve got your heads together.”
My brother. Once again, playing the role of ultimate cockblocker. “Can I help you?” I say crossly. “You appear to be in danger of spontaneously combusting. I’m not sure I want to help in stopping that.”
He ignores me and huffs. “Well, I