Page 32 of The Christmas Catch
The goddess next to her was still 100 per cent Morgan Scott and all the magic that brought with it.
Okay, Ali had to shut down these thoughts, and fast.
“If we accidentally bump arms or legs in the night, no big deal,” Morgan said.
Easy for her to say.
“But I should tell you, I’m not known for it. You always have one in every relationship that hogs the bed, steals the duvet and snores, right?”
Ali laughed. “Very true.”
“It’s never me. You can call all my exes and they’ll confirm.” Morgan paused. “Or at least, you could if I had my phone.” She shook her head. “Let’s not focus on that.”
“We can get the number for Jolly Good Elf Christmas Tree Farm first thing tomorrow and call him. I don’t think it’s lost forever.”
“Fingers crossed.” Morgan smiled, then turned her head to the ceiling. She placed her arms above the duvet and linked them on top of her chest.
Ali did the same.
“Can I ask you a personal question?”
Ali glanced Morgan’s way. “Sure.” The word came out more confident than she felt.
Morgan’s face twitched. “When did you know you were gay?”
Ali raised both eyebrows, but didn’t look at Morgan. She couldn’t. It might give the game away. “I don’t know. From a young age, I knew I was different. That I wasn’t experiencing the world the same way everyone else did. But I had no label for it. But then, when I was in my teens, I started looking at women and the world made sense.”
“Were you out at school?”
Ali nodded. “In the sixth form, yes. It was impossible not to be. I had a girlfriend. It kinda just happened that way.”
“You were braver than me.”
“It just didn’t make sense to hide.” Crucially, she’d only got a girlfriend after Morgan had left to go to university in Glasgow. Ali recalled her coming back and being in their kitchen, telling them tales of Glasgow. It was where the seed of her wanting to go to Scotland was sewn. She’d gone to university in Edinburgh, and only moved to Glasgow in the past few years. But it had always been a note on her life agenda, mainly thanks to Morgan Scott.
Had everything in her life until now been connected to Morgan? That thought pulsed in her brain.
Morgan twisted, this time propping her chin in the palm of her left hand. She was almost in pouncing position.
A furnace flamed inside Ali. She wriggled her bum, then tensed her fingers.
“Who did you go out with? Anybody I’d know?”
“Tara Dooley. She was in my year. She was a terrible kisser, but she was the first girl to show interest, so I went with it. We were not the love affair of the century.”
Morgan laughed. “I kissed my first girl in a toilet in Glasgow, so I win on the lack of romance. I’m not sure what I was hiding from. Probably myself.”
“First kiss fantasies never quite live up to reality, do they?”
Ali’s gaze dropped to Morgan’s lips. They were so close. They were so kissable. But she couldn’t do that, because Morgan was not someone she kissed. Even though they were semi-naked and in bed together. Was this the definition of torture?
Just keep breathing.
“That’s the thing. I didn’t even have a fantasy of my first kiss. I just wanted to get it over with, having kissed a million boys at school. I needed to become me, and I was in a hurry to do it. I envy you knowing so young.”
“I have you to thank.”
Ali’s brain slid sideways. Oh fuck, what had she just said? Had she just admitted something? She emptied the contents of her brain onto the floor as if it were a box of Lego, then tried to piece her thoughts and her words back together. Her brain throbbed with the effort.
