It’s only now, upon entering the dining room for the second time, that I really notice the Christmas tree. Well, I was in a bit of a flap earlier, and it’s dark out now, and the tree lights are on. It’s a big tree. At least 7ft tall, reaching up towards the high ceiling, and it’s plenty wide too. I know it’s real because I can smell it. You really can’t beat the smell of a real Christmas tree.
The next thing I notice is that the table is laid for two. The candles glow in the dimly lit room – coupled with the fairy lights on the tree, it’s such a dreamy, romantic scene.
Next to our places, there is a bottle of prosecco. I sit down and touch the bottle. It’s perfectly chilled.
‘So, they’ve got this thing in their kitchen,’ Chris explains as he carries in the plates. ‘Like a hole in the worktop, which I thought was bottle holder, but you tell it how cold you want your drinks to be and it chills them for you. Isn’t that amazing?’
‘It is,’ I reply. ‘But not as amazing as this dinner, Chris, wow, everything looks amazing.’
‘You will also be pleased to know that the prosecco is mine, not lifted from the chiller. It was my secret Santa gift,’ he explains. ‘So, you can drink it guilt-free.’
‘I can and I will,’ I reply.
Thankfully my hangover has shifted enough to allow a little light drinking. I’m even more grateful my appetite has returned.
‘I’ve also knocked together a crumble,’ he says. ‘It just needs popping in the oven when we’re ready for it.’
‘OK, this Chris I like,’ I tell him. ‘Earlier I thought you were so selfish, and infuriating, but as the day has gone on, I’m almost warming to you.’
He laughs.
‘Amazing what a bit of dessert can do, to get a person on-side,’ he muses. ‘I probably wasn’t totally myself earlier. I was a bit freaked out and trying to hide it because, you’re right, coming here was really stupid. I guess I wanted to impress you.’
‘Well, if there’s one thing you need to learn about me, I’m far more impressed by your crumble making skills than this house.’
Chris’s face suggests he doesn’t believe me.
‘I’m serious,’ I insist. ‘This is an amazing house, without a doubt, there’s so much to love about it. But being able to buy stuff isn’t really a quality I look for in a person. Someone who cooks for me, goes out of their way to lay a beautiful table, who shares their secret Santa present with me… that I can get on board with.’
‘And there’s me thinking girls liked a bad boy,’ he replies with a smile. ‘I broke into a house to impress you – nothing. I mash a few potatoes and you’re weak at the knees? Perhaps pop culture has lied to me.’
I gasp theatrically.
‘Imagine!’ I say.
As Chris and I chat over dinner I start to get little flashbacks from last night. I start to see in him what I saw in him yesterday. I can feel that connection again.
‘So, what do you like to do for fun?’ I ask. ‘Other than breaking and entering, and video games.’
‘One passion probably fuels the other,’ he jokes. ‘Hmm, well, other than that… I’m a bit of a dork really. I like superhero movies – I like the comics even more. I really, truly consider my Netflix subscription to be a bargain. I’m so addicted to true crime documentaries, but who isn’t? And I love reading. I’m a book-a-night kind of guy. Once I get started, that’s it.’
‘I don’t believe it,’ I say.
‘I know, it sounds insane, but you wouldn’t turn a movie off part of the way through, would you?’
‘I’m not surprised you read a book in a night,’ I reply. ‘I’m not a monster. I’m surprised you read.’
‘I don’t seem the type?’ he replies.
‘You don’t,’ I say. ‘Sorry if that sounds rude. You just seem too cool, I guess. I was surprised when you gave me the time of day last night.’
‘Don’t be daft,’ he replies. ‘I’ve always loved reading. Even when I was a kid. I saw you reading thatGoosebumpsbook…’
‘Don’t tell me you lovedGoosebumpstoo?!’ I reply.
‘Not really,’ he says. ‘I thought I was too mature for that. I preferredPoint Horror.’
‘I remember those,’ I say, thinking back to my school days. ‘I used to eye them up but you had to be in year 8 to read them. So, I worked my way through every Goosebumps book I could find and, by the time I hit year 8, and I finally got to read one of the “grown-up” books… I don’t know. I just didn’t like them as much. They didn’t seem as much fun.’
