Festive Hearts

Reads: 357  | Likes: 0  | Shelves: 0  | Comments: 15

More Details
Status: Finished  |  Genre: Romance  |  House: Booksie Classic
Seeing as I haven't been around for so long, I felt the need to produce a peace offering!

Apologies for my absence, enjoy the festive tale :-)

Submitted: December 28, 2011

A A A | A A A

Submitted: December 28, 2011



  Seven AM waking up in the morning, gotta be fresh gotta go downstairs-

  Groaning, I pulled my bedcovers over my head, wondering who in their right mind would blast such a ludicrous song in my ear at such an early hour.

  Not that I knew what the time was, but still.

  ‘MORNING BEBE!’ My five year old brother screeched in my ear as loudly as he probably could. For a tiny little boy, he could shout pretty damn loudly.  ‘IT’S CHRISTMAS EVE TODAY BEBE, AND THAT MEANS PRESENTS TOMORROW.’

  I grunted shortly. As much as I adored little Peter with ever part of me, I had never been a morning person. I mean honestly, who was?! Unfortunately, my monkey of a brother couldn’t seem to get his head around this concept.

  ‘Cummon Bebe! Get up! We have so much to do!’

  Peter had always called me Bebe, since the day he could say “Mama”. Phoebe, for some reason, was too much of a tongue-twister, and Bebe was all he could manage.

  ‘Peter, please…for the love of God just give me 5 minutes! Please?!’

  ‘Fine, but I have to join you!’ He lisped, and before I had a say in any of it, he was curled up under my duvet right next to me. He giggled cheekily in my ear and wrapped his little arms around me, kissing my cheek.

  ‘Love you Bebe.’

  I chuckled. ‘I love you too bubs. Always have, always will.’

  Even I found it hard to believe that just a few hours later, I was down at the local supermarket, stocking up on Brussels Sprouts – a demand my mother would not let me ignore. Something I never understood was, despite the fact they were commonly despised, people seemed to serve more than enough Brussels on Christmas Day. Why? Beats me.

  I made my way over to the “serve yourself” tills, where an annoying robotic woman spoke to you through a machine, repeating the same thing to you over and over again if you didn’t do it within a millisecond of her ordering you to the first time round. Honestly, they were impossible…but so much easier than the actual people.

  ‘Oh God sorry…’ I stuttered as I stumbled into someone, also carrying a hand-basket, absolutely full to the brim with Brussels Sprouts.

  ‘No worries.’ An unexpectedly deep voice came in reply to my apology, and a firm hand reached out to steady me. I looked up, and my blue eyes met brown. Deep, soft, bubbling brown.

  Jeez Louise and heavens above.

  ‘Uh…Shit sorry…I, I’m gonna have to learn to be more careful…’

  ‘No, honestly, it’s fine.’ He smiled, and then nodded towards my basket. ‘Domineering mother?’

  I laughed. ‘Tell me about it.’

  ‘Mine wants Sprouts too. Dunno why though, no one in my house eats them, not even her.’

  We instantly clicked.

  ‘You can say that again! Why bother, I say? It ruins the meal.’

  He smiled softly. ‘Finally…someone who understands me.’

  Exactly what I was thinking.

  I grinned, and he followed me to the counter as I began to scan things through the evil mechanism. The woman’s voice that seemed to be trapped inside the appliance barked orders at me as usual, in its monotonous voice.

  ‘God I hate those voices. They always tell you what to do, while you’re doing it!’

  I smiled. ‘It’s like you know my brain better than I do.’

  The conversation continued like this until I eventually had to leave. A goodbye, followed by an awkward hug like embrace and humour-filled smiles was enough to make me want to never leave his sight. Unfortunately, I didn’t get the choice and traipsed back to the hectic household that was my home.

  Christmas Day came and left, as did Boxing Day and the rest. New Year’s Eve quickly crept up on us, and, as per-usual, my mad-as-a-bag-of-snakes mother organised for me to attend some crazy party that I knew absolutely nothing about. No matter how much I argued, her plans would not budge.

  ‘But mum! I know that you want to go out, and that’s fine! But couldn’t I organise my social life instead?! I’m sure I could find some other party to attend, and if I can’t, I will happily stay at home with Peter and the babysitter!’

  ‘Absolutely not.’ My mother stated sternly. ‘You have to socialise darling! I’m not having you go to one of those dodgy, underage drinking parties that you teenagers go to…at least this party is mature, and sensibly supervised! End of story Little Miss, you are going to that party.’

  And so, as I was ordered to, I grudgingly arrived at quite possibly the most hellish, local youth party I could imagine.

  At 16, I was willing to be anywhere but there. Anywhere.

  The music was loud – too loud – and awfully 1980’s. Most people were milling about in doorways, attempting to strike up unsuccessful conversation and blocking any of my potential escape routes.

  Somehow, I made my way into a bathroom, and locked myself in. Maybe I could edge my way past the bouncers and go home? The babysitter would surely let me in, and I could just tell mum I was kicked out or something…

  In the back of my mind, I knew none of that would work.

  My plan B was to stay in that cubicle for as long as I could. Unfortunately a bouncer soon knocked on my door, asking me to remove myself from the toilet.


  As I left the room, my eyes searched the building for somewhere to go. Plan C? Didn’t have one…guess I’d just have to go with the flow.

  I found myself in a kitchen-like room, and took a drink from a table. God knows what it was, but it didn’t seem alcoholic and looked as safe as it got.

  ‘Hey,’ a familiar yet little-heard voice came from behind me. ‘Pretty sure I know who you are.’

  I spun around and grinned. The boy I’d met at the supermarket the week before. Only then did it become apparent to me that I never got his name.

  ‘Dan.’ He said as if he read my mind, not for the first time, and held out his hand.

  I smiled and shook it. ‘Phoebe.’ I told him. To my surprise, he lifted my hand to his lips and planted a kiss on the back of my palm.

  ‘It’s a pleasure to meet you once again.’

  I couldn’t help but blush as he spoke these overwhelmingly charming words, and I grinned. ‘And you, Dan.’

  ‘So what are you doing here? I’d expect to find you in a much more sophisticated party.’ He joked light-heartedly as he dropped my hand.

  ‘Do you remember our first and last conversation? Domineering mother?’

  ‘Ah yes.’ He nodded. ‘I understand. My very own domineering mother runs this god-forsaken youth club actually. Hellish job, it really is, especially at this time of year.’

  My eyebrows shot up without my permission. ‘Wow.’

  He nodded once again. ‘Wow indeed.’

  I smiled. ‘So I take it you’d rather be someplace else…?’

  ‘Well,’ he sighed, ‘I do admit that when my mum announced that I’d spend New Year’s Eve here, I was pretty pissed off. But I guess finding you here has sort of uplifted me a bit.’

  My heart melted.

  And then, when I thought I couldn’t be more in love…

  He winked.

  And I died.

  Well not literally…but still.

  ‘Thanks.’ I laughed. ‘Finding you here has cheered me up slightly as well.’

  ‘Well in that case, I’m glad the feeling’s mutual.’

  …Queue the awkward silence.

  ‘Well,’ Dan exhaled, dragging out his vowels in the usual uneasy manner, ‘Good Christmas?’

  Thank God he was good at small talk. I couldn’t think up conversations for toffee.

 ‘Meh, was alright. Little brother ran around the house all day like a hyena on coffee and mum moaned at us for making a mess…’

  ‘And dad?’

  ‘Oh my dad?’ I chuckled. ‘Huh, my dad didn’t stick around long enough to even know my name.’

  Dan made a face – one that portrayed an emotion I couldn’t quite pinpoint. ‘Sorry to hear that.’

  I shrugged and smirked. ‘S’alright, wouldn’t wanna know the bastard anyway.’

  Dan smiled. ‘Great attitude, I like it.’

  And that was it. We were off and nothing else seemed to matter, except the consistent rich texture of Dan’s voice, and the way his brown hair flicked around as he spoke, and the wide smile that enveloped his face for the majority of the evening.

  All of a sudden, it was moments before the count down. New year was approaching.

  ‘Are you ready for this?!’ A woman spoke through a microphone at the front of the house, and was replied to with a few encouraging calls.

  ‘That’s mum…’ Dan whispered unenthusiastically below the crowds. I smiled. He did look like her.


  And it began.


  ‘Phoebe?!’ Dan called to me. He had to shout, even though we were stood next to each other.

  ‘What?!’ I replied.


  ‘I need to say something!’



  ‘I’ve needed to do it all evening!’


  ‘What?!’ I repeated.


  ‘Well, I’ve wanted to say it all evening!’


  ‘Dan, it’s too loud!’ I objected.


  ‘But I need to-’


  ‘Seriously Dan…!’


  And all of a sudden, his lips were on mine.

  Within an instant, everything around me shattered to unimportant pieces. I couldn’t tell whether the fireworks I could hear were genuine fireworks outdoors, or the ones exploding within me, and as Dan’s hands slid behind my back, I couldn’t think of anything better than that moment.

  Well, I couldn’t think of anything anyway. My insides had turned to jelly.


  Dan’s voice seemed to resuscitate my mental ability, and I looked up…I hadn’t even noticed the absence of his lips on mine.


  ‘Are you…?’

  ‘Okay? Yeah, I’m okay. More than okay in fact. I’m fine!’

  In case it wasn’t already clear, I babbled when I was nervous.

  ‘Fine?! You’re fine now, are you?’ He grinned with a witty twinkle in his eye.

  Yeah, thanks Dan. I already knew that was a stupid thing to say.

  ‘Yeah.’ I nodded. ‘Yeah, I’m fine.’

  ‘Well, I guess that’s better than not fine, but…’

  ‘No! No, God I’m more than fine! Beyond fine! I’m bloody fantastic now…’

  ‘Now…?’ He questioned with a considering nod. ‘Now. Okay, that’s reassuring.’

  ‘Oh for God’s sake stop being awkward and just-’

His lips fell on mine. He’d already caught my drift. I sank into his embrace.


© Copyright 2018 Demi Sugar. All rights reserved.

Add Your Comments: