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be for her. Prick, she thought, but smiled politely. “It’s not a problem. Have you eaten yet? I might order some pizza. I’m starving.”

      “I could eat.”

      Eloise stepped aside, waving a hand grandly to admit him into the flat. She closed the door after him, and was pleased that he made use of the shoe rack without her even having to ask.

      Jamie followed her into the living room, perching on the other end of the sofa. He looked awkward and out of place. He must’ve felt it too, because he ran a hand back and forth through his hair, mussing it up, cleaned his glasses on his T-shirt, rubbed his jaw.

      Had he always looked this cute?

      Maybe it was the glasses. Or the messy hair.

      He might be too long for the sofa, Eloise wondered. But she could hardly offer him the bed. That was where she was sleeping.

      He pointed at the TV and she followed his finger while she picked her phone up from where it had fallen on the floor earlier. She checked it for notifications, even though she knew there would be none. “Good movie.”

      “Is it? I’ve not seen it before.”

      She couldn’t even remember what it was called. Just that it was some movie with Daniel Radcliffe, about magic, and not Harry Potter. Mark Ruffalo was currently on screen.

      Eloise loaded the Dominos app, picking a two-pizza deal and choosing one for herself before handing the phone to Jamie to pick what he wanted.

      “I’ll pay you back tomorrow, when I manage to get into my flat.”

      She waved him off as she tapped in the credit card details she knew off by heart. A side-effect of a lot of online shopping at university and a lack of ability to budget. “Don’t worry about it, honestly. You want some wine? Tea? I’ve got some coffee, but it’s only decaf. Um … there’s some lemonade too. Or orange juice. Or –”

      “Tea would be nice. I’ll make it, though, don’t worry. Do you want one?”

      “Um.” Did people actually do this? Make themselves at home in someone else’s kitchen? She’d only ever seen that in movies before. Was it arrogance, or was he being polite? It was hard to tell. She’d have opted for some more wine if she’d been on her own, but sobering up seemed like a better idea now she had company. “Yeah, go on then.”

      She half-watched the movie while she listened to him fill her kettle, look through a couple of drawers for the teaspoons, take mugs off the mug tree and open her tin labelled, unambiguously, TEA.

      She wanted to text Cara. She wanted to call her and have a whispered conversation to say her arsey neighbour was spending the night at her flat. But Cara would be with George now, and she didn’t want to disturb them.

      Jamie handed her the tea. “Sorry – I forgot to ask if you take sugar. But, given that there’s a canister of tea bags out and no sugar, I’m guessing not.”

      Eloise shook her head. Her fringe was falling out of its hairpin, tucked off her face. “Nope. Thanks.”

      “No – thank you. Honestly. I really appreciate this. I know it’s – I know I’m not exactly neighbourly, so I appreciate this.”

      Aww. That might be the first genuinely nice thing he’d ever said to her.

      “It’s no problem. Although, honestly, I’m a little worried you’re too tall for the sofa. And I don’t have an airbed.”

      He assured her it’d be fine; he was just grateful he wasn’t stuck outside in the hallway all night. He asked her how the school nativity was going, so she spent the next twenty minutes until the pizza arrived (and she sobered up a little more) regaling him with mishaps and adorable moments and the teacher who’d tried to swan in during their second dress rehearsal today and change half the songs.

      Jamie, it turned out, was a great audience. Maybe he was just being especially nice because she was letting him stay. He hadn’t even made a sardonic comment about her Christmas tree yet.

      And by the time they’d finished the pizzas they were barely paying attention to the movie anymore. Jamie was sat twisted towards her, one leg up on the sofa and his arm slung over the back; Eloise had her legs crossed, pizza box balanced there. He reached across to take a slice, even though he had some of his own left in the box on the floor, and she didn’t even mind.

      He was funny, too, now he wasn’t being her grumpy neighbour.

      She’d learnt more about Jamie in the past hour than she had in any conversation they’d had previously.

      He worked at a mental health charity. It was a national one, with a local branch. He had a psychology degree and was a year older than her. He had three younger brothers and his family were from Nottingham, like hers. A few towns over, though. They had a couple of mutual friends on Facebook.

      They had a few things in common too: a mutual love of Star Wars, The Crown and Game of Thrones; they’d both tried to read Lord of the Rings and given up after a couple of chapters; they’d both done French A levels. There were a lot of things they didn’t have in common too – like the fact he thought the Harry Potter books weren’t much cop, so hadn’t read past the second one. Eloise found it hard to let that one go.

      “So, right, tell me, then,” she said, turning towards him and being careful not to spill her wine. They’d both had a glass, and she’d had to open another bottle. Eloise typically tried to avoid drinking on a school night, but it had been a rough day, and she figured tonight was as good as any to make an exception. She’d regret it like hell tomorrow, when she had a hangover and had to deal with another nativity practice, but right now it seemed like a great idea.

      Jamie’s cheeks were ruddy under his is-it-stubble-or-is-it-beard, his green eyes bright. “What?”

      “Why are you always so grouchy? Like, every time we’ve spoken, you’re just – you’re like Oscar. The Grouch. Not quite a Grinch.”

      He laughed. It was a nice, full sound. “I’m not grouchy.”

      “You are. You’re like full-on Mr Darcy.”

      “Please, Mr Darcy is my father.”

      Eloise snorted before saying, “I’m serious. Like at the start of the story. All aloof and moody.”

      Jamie laughed again but looked abashed. “I’m not, am I? I’m not that bad. I know I’m a little … I’m a bit shy, but I’m not aloof.”

      “You so are.”

      “No. Nope, impossible. I’ve been told I’m approachable and friendly. Nobody has ever told me I’m aloof.”

      “Well, you are here.”

      “Maybe it’s just because you’re cute, and I’m shy.”

      Eloise’s face was on fire in seconds, and Jamie laughed again, so at ease and smiling so widely she figured he had to be joking. He had to be, didn’t he? He’d said himself, he was shy. Shy people didn’t just say things like that, did they?

      “I’m lucky you even opened the door to me, then, if I’m so bloody moody all the time.”

      “It’s Christmas,” Eloise said, smiling and hoping she wasn’t still blushing. “’Tis the season for forgiveness and goodwill and all that jazz. Even if Christmas is turning into a pile of shite this year.”

      “Whoa, hold on.” Jamie leant towards her. “You’re basically Buddy the Elf compared to most other people I know. And you’re calling Christmas a pile of shite?”

      “Well, not Christmas exactly,” she conceded, nabbing another slice of pizza and taking a bite. She’d not even mentioned any of it to the other teachers at school, or any of her mates – because her mates were also Cara’s mates, and she didn’t want her sister to

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