chapter fifteen

f i f t e e n

*

“No peeking,” Casper says as he types an address into Google Maps, biting his tongue as though it’s taking immense effort.

“I’m going to need to peek pretty soon,” I say, “considering your surprise requires me to drive to an unknown destination.”

“The beauty of Maps: you can follow the directions without knowing where they lead.” He fixes my phone to the holder on the dashboard and plugs in the charger. “Do you trust me, O Little Star of Bethlehem?”

“You know what,” I muse, “I think I just might.”

“Then you’re in for a fun ride.” He grins and buckles up and goes to put the radio on. I push his hand away from the dial with a tut.

“Oh no you don’t, Mister. If I can’t know where we’re going, I reserve the right to control the music.” I switch over to the Bluetooth connection and my Christmas playlist starts in earnest.

“Oh, no, I don’t think so,” Casper says, but I cup my hand over the buttons and glare at his grimace.

“It’s your choice, Ghost Boy,” I say. “You can take control of the music if you tell me what the plan is, or you can keep up the surprise and indulge in the best festive bangers of the last seven decades.”

I know what he’ll choose, because he spent all of breakfast telling me that today is all about surprises and he wouldn’t tell me a thing. He won’t ruin it, and I want to listen to my playlist, and maybe help him find a Christmas song he actually likes. There has to be one.

After a tense few seconds, he groans and shrugs. “Okay, fine. You win – we can have your damn Christmas songs.”

I give him a smug smile as I reverse out of my driveway. He starts to dig around in his pockets, frowning as his hands come up empty.

“Forget something?”

“Yeah … have you seen my earplugs?”

“Oh, fuck off.” I turn up the not-so-dulcet tones of Mariah Carey in protest as I start to follow the route on my screen. “By the end of today, you’ll be jamming along to Kelly Clarkson and begging to watch The Santa Clause when we get home.” A thought hits me and I eye him warily. “We are coming home tonight, right?”

“Depends.”

“On what?”

“How much of this music you subject me to. Might end up killing you with the candy cane I apparently have wedged up my arse.”

“In the event that you don’t kill me, and you actually learn how to enjoy my music, will we be home tonight?”

“Nope.”

“No?”

"Nope,” he repeats. “If I learn how to enjoy this drivel, then we won’t be home tonight because I’ll be getting myself sectioned.”

“Oh my god, Cas. You are fucking impossible. Okay, how about this – do your mystery plans, as they currently stand, involve spending the night away from home?”

“No,” he says at last. “If we don’t come to blows over music and either get each other killed or sectioned, then there’s no reason why we won’t be home tonight. All right?”

“Yes, thank you.” My grip on the wheel loosens. “That’s all I needed to know.”

“And you’re in control of the wheels anyway. If I had planned for us to spend a night fending for ourselves in a forest, you’d have the right and capability to get right back in the car and go home.”

“That goes for everything you’ve planned,” I say, wondering how long he’s had today in the works. It feels a bit on the hoof, and I half expect these directions to be taking us to the nearest McDonald’s or something equally empty-headed.

“True. But you’ve put your faith in me, which I appreciate,” he says, turning a little more serious, “and I’ve put my faith in you. I trust you to drive us safely towards salvation.”

For some reason, I have a feeling he’s planned an anti-Christmas day. I wouldn’t put it past him, but if he has, he should be a little more wary about having so much faith in me.

*

Ten minutes later, after my car has almost gone caput winding up a steep road, one of the hills that forms the valley Saint Wendelin lies in, my phone crows that we’ve reached our destination. But I can’t see anything around us that looks remotely like a destination. We’re at the top of a hill, covered in pines and leafless deciduous trees and snow, and there’s nothing here except a wide layby for tired drivers to park up.

“You know how I put my faith in you?” I turn to Casper, who’s undoing his seatbelt. He looks up. “It’s fading.”

“Trust me,” he says. “Come out, get out. This is just a pit stop on the way to our actual destination today. I thought, on the off chance you haven’t been here, I’d like to be the one to show you. Are you good to walk? It’s about ... three minutes, and no steeper than this bit of road we’re on.”

The bit of road we’re on is virtually flat compared to some of the inclines my old car has climbed. I feel bad for her, putting her through her paces when she mostly just carries me to work and back, an hour’s round trip in good weather.

“I think I can manage that,” I say, pulling on a pair of gloves that I discarded when the heating kicked in. “Is this a long con? I wronged you in another life and in this one, you’ve befriended me to the point that I’ll drive myself to the woods where you’ll kill me.”

Casper laughs, turning to face me with a bright grin, which seems even brighter thanks to the pure snow glistening all around him. “You have a very active imagination, Nazareth,” he says, walking backwards for a few steps.

“A blessing and a curse.”

“I promise I won’t kill you. I have absolutely no intention of doing that,” he says. “I may not get on with my parents, but my father has a wonderful saying that I follow to this day.”

“Oh yeah?” I raise my eyebrows at him and push my glasses up, tightening my scarf around my neck. “Please share the wisdom of Mr Boutayeb the Elder.”

“He usually goes by Bilal. Or, you know, Dad,” Casper says. “According to his wisdom, or rather, one of his family commandments, never kill the people you love.”

I don’t know if hearts really can skip a beat without it being a medical emergency; I studied as little science as I possibly could at school, skipping to the subjects I could bullshit my way through. But I’m pretty sure my heart just skipped a beat, or held its breath. Something just happened in my chest. The people you love, I think, and try not to overthink it. It’s a saying. It’s not Casper saying he loves me.

“He doesn’t have a saying about the people you don’t love, though, so maybe he condones murdering enemies?” Casper continues, wittering away as I try to pull my head and my heart into line.

I like him. I really, really like him. When he grins that crooked grin, one side of his mouth higher than the other, I want to kiss his lips. I can’t shake that thought out of my head as I follow him through the trees, until they part and the world drops away in front of us.

“Holy shit!” I cry out, my words flying out into the nothingness. Just a few metres ahead, the hillside disappears, careening back down towards the valley; one wrong step and we could fall to our deaths, rolling down the rocky tree-dotted hillside.

“Pretty incredible, right?” Casper’s wearing a proud grin, arms folded as he stands to one side and watches me as I take in the view.

When I get over the shock of it, I find that my breath has been stolen. All I can do for a moment is stare at this new perspective on the valley I’ve lived in my whole life. I can see St Mary’s church from here, a lump of snowy grey stone far below; I can imagine the irregular headstones in the graveyard. Tracking the roads I know so well, I spot my house too, and I’m sure I can see the glow of my Christmas tree through the front window.

“I used to hike up here all the time when I was a kid,” Casper says, trudging over the snow to join me. “Whenever things got a bit too much – which, with my parents, was quite a lot – I’d throw on my walking boots and come up here, just to get away. Sometimes I’d bring Jem with me too. Except she’s a total Mummy’s girl; Jem can do no wrong in my parents’ eyes. I can’t hold it against her.”

He’s at my side, his arm pressed against mine, and we stand like that for a few quiet seconds, staring out at the valley below, at the frozen loch in the distance.

“How old were you?”

“When I first came up here?” he asks. “Hmm. Maybe twelve?”

“God, Cas. You came here alone when you were twelve? What if something had happened? You could have fallen, or got lost.”

He shrugs. “Twelve-year-old me wasn’t too concerned about that kind of stuff. I was more interested in getting away from home and finding somewhere I could think, without worrying that my parents could see the look on my face and know what I was thinking.”

There’s an ounce of pain in his voice, and I feel we’ve reached a point where it’s okay to dig beneath the surface a little. Especially as I have a feeling I know what he’s talking about.

“Is this about being bi?” I ask. He gives me a tight smile and nods.

“Got it in one.” He takes a deep breath, the air around us fogging up when he lets it out. “Looking back on it, I think I always knew there was something a bit different, but I was twelve when everyone was obsessed with celebrity crushes and all that crap and I realised, oh shit, I like guys as well.” With a laugh, he adds, “Don’t get me wrong, I totally had the hots for Keira Knightley, but whenever anyone asked me which celeb I liked, she was my fall back. Some part of me knew I couldn’t say that I was kind of into Zac Efron, too.”

“Zac Efron? Seriously?”

“That one hasn’t gone away,” he says with a laugh. “The guy only gets hotter and hotter.”

“I can’t argue there.”

Casper beams, and he sighs. “But, yeah, I didn’t know how to deal with all those feelings, and I knew my parents wouldn’t be okay with it, so any time I felt like I was going to explode in the pressure cooker of our house, I came here. Came here a lot more when I was fifteen and I started dating a guy whose football team I beat in a school match.”

“It’s very peaceful up here,” I say.

“Mmm. Exactly. Very quiet. Lots of places to hide. No-one can see us right now, unless they have crazy powerful binoculars or they’re in a low-flying helicopter.”

“When did you come out to your parents?”

“When I went to uni,” he says. “By that point, I’d dated three guys already – and one girl, who my parents had met – and I figured, you know, it’s now or never.” He runs a gloved hand through his hair, his curls standing on end from the static electricity. “I’m glad I told them, but it changed our relationship a lot. They say they still love me, but then I hear the shit they say, all these snippy little homophobic comments, and I know that love has a limit.”

“God, Cas. I’m so sorry. That’s so awful.”

“It could be a lot worse.”

“It should be a lot better. But look at you now.” I nudge his ribs and give him my most encouraging smile. “You’ve got a job and a great housemate; you’re thriving. You don’t need them.”

He laughs at that, his breath so hot and the air so cold that it looks like he’s smoking. “True, true. They’d be so proud to know that I lived with a guy I was dating for a year and then I got dumped and now I’m a single pringle, stealing my friend’s spare room while I try and fail to figure out what my next step is.”

The words percolate for a moment. I dig my hands deeper into my pockets, my nails digging into my palms as I toy with the words I want to say, words I need to put in the right order and hope he won’t laugh at.

“Do you need a next step?”

“I can’t scrounge off you forever, Beth. I know you’re the nicest person I’ve ever met and you’d probably let me, but I’m not that much of a dick. I need to find somewhere to live.”

“You’re not a dick at all,” I say. “And I don’t mean you can stay scrounging off me. I mean ... if your next step is finding somewhere to live, which will probably mean finding strangers who need a flatmate, why not just move in with me officially?”

He turns, looks at me. Holds my gaze, his eyes intense. His eyebrows furrow together and the crease in his brow smooths out when he seems to understand what I’m saying.

“Why live with strangers,” I continue, “or pay too much to find your own flat, if you could live with me? Feel free to say no – I totally understand if you want to find your own place – but we can make this a proper arrangement. You can pay me rent, or we can split the bills, or whatever.” I realise I’m tensed up and send all my muscles a reminder to let loose and stop acting like I might need to run any moment.

“Are you serious?”

“Why not? You’re already staying with me.”

“But ... you’ve lived alone for years. I don’t want to cramp your independence. You don’t need to do that, Beth.”

“It turns out I kind of like having a housemate,” I say, my words losing some of their power and volume when I lose confidence in what I’m saying. “Never mind. You don’t want to; it’s fine.” I turn to head back to the car and put this conversation to bed, but Casper catches my elbow.

“Hey. Where’re you going?”

I can’t find the words.

“Do you mean it?” he asks, both hands on my elbows now, his eyes fixed on mine. “If you’re serious, if you’re really okay with that, I’d love it.”

“Really?”

“Are you kidding?” He laughs, his eyes shining when they land on me. “Beth. I love living with you. I just, I figured it was temporary. You know, you let me stay with you while I figured out where to go next. But you’re right. It makes sense to stay. If you mean it.”

“I really do.” I nod, and have to force myself to stop when I’m at risk of looking like that Churchill dog. “I've realised it's quite nice, having someone else in the house. Even one who despises my favourite time of year.”

Casper throws up his arms in exaltation and then bends over, hands on his knees. “Fucking hell, didn’t realise how big a weight on my shoulders that was until you lifted it. I’ve been shitting myself, trying to figure out what the fuck I do next.”

“I had no idea.” My protective instinct leaps out; the thought that he’s been stressing about this is devastating. “You should’ve said something! I should have said something, I guess.”

“I can’t thank you enough, Beth.” He’s shaking his head when he stands straight, running both hands through his hair. “I don’t know why I didn’t think to ask you. I just, I ... I don’t know. I guess I assumed, ‘cause we talked about staying until the new year, that that was a deadline, or something.”

“You’re my guest until January,” I say, “and when twenty-twenty hits, we’ll figure out all the official stuff. Until then, consider it a ... trial run, of sorts. If you decide, in the next two weeks, that you can’t bear to live with me, then you can walk away with no strings attached.”

His grin is so wide, showing off his crooked teeth and forcing dimples into his cheeks, lines around his bright eyes. In this light, bathed in the crisp natural white of undisturbed snow, his irises are a hundred shades of brown marbled together in swirling canyons, outlined by a ring of near-black. I could lose myself in the study of those eyes and that smile, from his thick eyelashes and bushy eyebrows to his two days’ worth of stubble; his slightly overlapping front teeth to the bump on the bridge of his nose.

“You’re a lifesaver, Bethlehem King,” he says. His voice is as soft as his curls look, even in the wind that whips around us way up here.

“You’re my friend, and you’ve proved yourself to be a good housemate. Why would I want to get rid of you?”

“Good question. I am pretty special.” He opens his arms and tilts his head at me. “Got room for a hug?”

Yes, I think I do. I put my arms around him and almost head-butt him when we go in at the same angle; he’s only a couple of inches taller than me, the top of my head in line with his eyebrows. My chin rests on his shoulder when we hug, his ear cold against my temple.

“Okay, let’s get back in the car. I’m freezing my balls off out here,” he says after a few seconds, just when I was beginning to wonder how long we would hug. “We’ve still got a whole day ahead of us.”

“A whole day I’m a bit nervous about.”

“Nothing to be nervous about. This is gonna be a fun day, I swear. And you know what?”

“What?” I unlock the car and we get in, shutting out the chilly breeze with the thunk of the doors.

“I’m not even going to complain about your music anymore.” His glee is infectious; it seems like his whole body is reverberating with relief, newly unburdened, as he whacks up the volume and yells out, completely off-key, “Let it snow, let it snow, let it fucking snow!”

*

I told myself I would totally be able to write Beth and Cas's day of fun in one chapter but look at that, they haven't even got to their destination 3k later. oh well. enjoy!