Page 64 of Only Ever You

The siren of the fire engine whirred up again with the addition of a festive soundtrack.

“Are you tired of Christmas music yet?” he asked as the sound grew nearer and nearer. The truck would pass right by the other end of this lane.

“Not yet,” Faye replied. “But do your parents always play it in the house?”

Bash reached out and she almost ducked away from his hand coming towards her throat, until he began to adjust her scarf and cover a gap in the creamy wool.

“Unfortunately,” he said as Faye stared up at him, his gaze focussed on keeping her warm. “At least it’s jazz themed. They could be playing a lot worse.”

“It’s easier to see now that they’re the reason why you love jazz so much.” Her voice sounded … different.

His hand fell away. “Yeah … Matt kind of grew up to loathe it, I think, because of them, and I’m the complete opposite.”

Faye wandered a few steps to the edge of the gate and craned herself to look down the length of the field. “Must be nice to have something like that stay with you.”

Bash hadn’t given much thought to how bringing her here had taken her away from her family, though Ellie was visiting her in-laws, and both sets of Faye’s parents were out of the country. He hadn’t thought either about how all of his family’s odd traditions might make her feel when he knew how she’d grown up.

She’d never had a Christmas purely within one house, surrounded by the same people, until now. It was one thing Bash was certain hecouldgive her if she ever wanted to be with him – something stable. Something reliable.Steadfast. He always tried his very best to be those things for her, and if he ever let her down … Well then he’d let the guilt fester within him until he made it right again.

He might be a little hasty in his choices sometimes, but it was only because he cared too much.

Faye looked like she’d disappeared within her thoughts, so Bash pulled his phone from his pocket and searched through his music for one of her favourites. He’d had them all in a playlist ever since technology had allowed it, and written before then on a piece of paper that was lost somewhere in a drawer in his house by now.

Music started to play from his phone; the opening claps and piano bar of a throwbackScouting For Girlstrack made Faye whip around.

“What are you doing?” she asked as he slid the thin technology into his coat pocket which muffled the sound.

“Dancing.” His version of dancing, at least; shimmying his shoulders, arms like a T-rex bouncing along.

“Why?”

To make you smile.

“Why not?”

Faye rolled her eyes. But there it was – the crack in her lips which opened wider and wider each second.

Edging his way closer one inch and shuffled step at a time, Bash did his usual little bounce on his toes and wiggle with his shoulders. Faye’s laughter was like nectar and all he wanted was to keep on drawing out that sound.

He lifted one of her hands and spun her around under his arm. Her momentum kept going and she stumbled, laughing, into his chest.

Dancing her side to side, they almost looked like rag-dolls until Faye gave up the resistance and danced with him until the end of the song.

The upbeat faded into something slower – another from Bash’s code-named “PB Playlist.” Faye’d found it once and he’d made up on the spot that it was his “Personal Best” music for the gym. She’d miraculously believed him, if not querying with her look why the music choices themselves weren’t standard gym beats; lovey dovey ballads didn’t exactly scream “deadlift.”

Little did she know the playlist had nothing to do with the gym, and everything to do with her.

They looked at one another, neither of them moving to step away. Bash didn’t want to let the moment go to waste, so he put his hand on Faye’s waist, taking her other palm in his hand. The gentle pressure he applied further round on the low of her back drew her into his body like a hot knife through butter.

Her lips parted as they became one in their little space, and Bash tried to ignore how much his heart ached when Faye curled her arm against his back and spread her fingers across his shoulder blade. He felt every one of them as if there were no layers stopping her touch.

Their walking boots were too clunky to turn in a circle smoothly whilst Norah Jones sang a song fromLove Actually,Faye’s favourite film at this time of year, in his coat pocket, but they made it work.

The late afternoon shadows on the concreted ground were pierced with the early moonlight. Cold winds whispered in the treetops and gave Bash the perfect excuse to hold Faye as close to his body as he could; soft and pliable beneath the padding of her layers and swaying along with him to the song.

They danced often together when they were atSamuel’sor on nights with their friends, but this felt …special.

There wasn’t a reason.

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