Ambrose:that bad?
Haf:That bad
Haf:Christopher is going to kill me
Ambrose:no, he won’t because he’s a nice sweet person
Ambrose:i might though, for the good of the universe
Ambrose:the sheer chaos you’ve released over the last five days can’t be good for, like, the karmic balance or whatever
Ambrose:a black hole opens every time you make a bad decision
Ambrose:anyway, isn’t this what you wanted
Ambrose:maybe this is a good thing, even if it’s a mess
Haf:You’d think.
Haf:Apparently it was more ‘Merry Christmas, decision pending’.
Ambrose:noooo wtf
Haf:Yup
Haf:Uuuggggggggghhhhhhhhhhhh
Haf:I’ve got to go pretend that didn’t happen
Ambrose:good luck
Ambrose:don’t fuck anyone else in that house
Ambrose:it might make things somehow more awkward
Chapter Nineteen
@ambroseliewgays and theys, is having sex in a closet ...
hot?:37%
a little too on the nose?:44%
uncomfortable?:19%
619 votes
To her relief, the rest of the day goes by quickly in a blur of activities. Enough that she doesn’t have to think about Kit.
Instead, she can fool herself into thinking everything is fine, playing pretend just as well as Kit does.
Everything Laurel had said about the Calloway competitiveness turns out to be an understatement, and doesn’t stop at karaoke. The board games are brought out, and all four of them take it very, very seriously. While the evening’s dinner cooks, the Calloways shuffle through a couple of games of Catan, followed by a furious game of Cheat, which sends a twinge of panic through Haf every time someone enthusiastically yells it. She’s not even a cheater, not really. Christopher pretty much gave them his blessing after all, even though that probably didn’t extend to shagging on the premises. But that old shitty lie about bisexuals being more likely to cheat, being untrustworthy, rattles around in her head in the quiet moments between turns.
The house is soon filled with the delicious smell of food, and Otto nips off a few times to check on his venison, which has been roasting slowly all afternoon.
Time flies past them, and soon they’re all sitting at the dinner table. The roll of meat is carved up into slices, revealing a stuffed core of wild berries and spices. There are mounds of roast potatoes, Parmesan-topped parsnips, bright little sprouts charred and garnished with dashes of red chilli. She’s suddenly ravenous, realising the endless nibbling of Christmas hasn’t really filled her up.
Everyone raises a glass – this time she opts for a fancy soft drink, just to be safe – and digs in.
