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Sunday, December 22, 2013

“Later on, we’ll perspire, as we drink by the fire! A beautiful sight –”

Tim Carrington eyed his sister from across the kitchen, an amused smirk on his face. “Those aren’t the words,” he advised her, sounding pleased that he knew the proper words to the classic Christmas carol, and his Literature major sister belted out the incorrect words in an incredibly off-key tone.

Kit looked up from the puff pastry appetizer she was haphazardly assembling and frowned at her brother. “No,” she answered, a questioning uprising to her voice. “I’m right,” she added, squeezing one of the pastries shut, causing a splattering of filling to ooze out. She scooped up the filling with her finger and smeared it along the top of the pastry, unaware it would cause the snack to burn. The rest of the tray looked as though a five year old had prepared them, but Kit couldn’t be bothered to put the effort in to making the appetizers look presentable. As long as they were edible, she would declare it a win.

Tim’s girlfriend, Tamara, feverishly scrolled through her phone. “Look!” She announced triumphantly, jumping up and thrusting her phone in Kit’s face. “Look, see? Later on, we’ll conspire… as we dream by the fire! See?” she asked, keeping her phone inches from Kit’s face.

“Yes, I can read. Thank you,” Kit answered shortly, meeting her brother’s eyes and raising her eyebrows, silently asking him this one? Really? Tim replied with a shrug before gesturing to his chest, insinuating that Tamara was not lacking in that department, and nothing else mattered. Tim’s girlfriends rarely had anything but their bra size going for them, and this one was no exception. Kit rolled her eyes at him before turning back to the pastries. Tamara, not seeing the silent exchange between the siblings, leaned over Kit’s shoulder and clucked her tongue disapprovingly.

“Those don’t look very good!” she added, her voice cheery, unaware as to how rude her comment sounded. She reached across the counter and picked up one of the puffs, making a face. “Like, they’re all different sizes and… stuff is gushing out of them!”

Kit snatched the snack out of Tamara’s hand, placing it back on the tray. “This is how we do it in our family,” she snapped, swatting her hand against Tamara’s arm. She wondered if Tamara knew that Kit was the one person who could make her go from girlfriend to ex-girlfriend really quickly. She’d done it before and she already knew she would do it again.

Tamara clutched her arm dramatically, letting out a yelp. “Hey!” she exclaimed, casting a wounded look in Tim’s direction. He quickly looked away, pretending he hadn’t noticed the minor quarrel between his girlfriend and his sister. Picking sides between the two girls wouldn’t end well for him –he knew he would always take his bratty little sister’s side, which wouldn’t go over well with Tamara.

“Sorry,” Kit apologised innocently, sidestepping and bumping her hip against Tamara’s, shoving her out of the way. “It’s just such a small kitchen! Pardon me, please,” she added, elbowing the girl in the ribs and biting the insides of her cheeks to keep from smirking.

“Why don’t we go outside and see if Dad needs help with the lights?” Tim suggested, quickly standing up and taking Tamara by the arm, leading her out of the kitchen. He shot a look over his shoulder at Kit, silently warning her to be nice. Laughing loudly, Kit shook her head at him. She knew she could play nice, but it didn’t mean she was going to.
“Mmm! Everything smells delicious, darling!” Penny Carrington announced, her cheeks rosy from the mulled wine as she found her way back to the kitchen a few moments later. She sashayed towards Kit, taking dancing steps in time with the Christmas carols coming from the stereo and splashing drops of her drink from the top of her glass.

“Nothing’s in the oven yet,” Kit reminded Penny, dropping the last of the pastry puffs onto the tray. Her mother was a lovely soul, kind and generous and put on the planet for the sole purpose of being a mother. Her scattered way of thinking was endearingly bothersome, though since moving to London, Kit found her mother to be more endearing than bothersome. She missed her.

“Oh!” Penny mused absent-mindedly, dragging her fingers through Kit’s hair before lifting the lid off the slow cooker, scooping another serving of mulled wine into her glass. She smiled at Kit, her eyes bright. “Thank you for taking over, love,” Penny said to Kit, as though it was a rarity. In actuality, Kit preparing the holiday party snacks was as traditional as the drink in her mother’s glass. Penny always set the plan in motion – party planning was one of her many fortes, but party executing was an entirely different ballgame.

“Of course,” Kit replied, sliding the tray of treats into the oven. She wiped her hands on her pants and glanced around the messy kitchen. “Well, I’m about done,” she decided, even though she wasn’t. “I think I’m going to go find some clothes to wear,” she added with a sigh. If it were up to her, Kit would have been lounging around the house in leggings and a massive sweater, optional bra. But Penny insisted that a holiday party meant holiday dresses and therefore Kit would have to wiggle her lanky body into a curve-hugging garment, whether she liked it or not.

~*~*~*~

“Bit of a time warp, isn’t it?” Harry’s mother commented, peering out the car window at the small home nestled among clusters of pine trees and shrubbery. A manicured lawn may have existed in decades past, but the foliage had taken over and created a whimsical, Seussian quality around the property.

Harry nodded, easing the car down the narrow driveway. If he squinted, he could almost see the piles of pedal bikes that used to be strewn about the yard, old playing cards clipped to the spokes to ensure each bike sounded as though it was a race car. “It’s definitely been awhile,” he replied, feeling guilty that he hadn’t been back to visit his friend’s parents – his second home, really – since he’d left Holmes Chapel. But there were a lot of people he hadn’t visited. Everyone seemed to understand, though it didn’t make him feel any less bad about it.

“It was nice of Catherine to invite you,” Anne continued, using Kit’s full name, as most adults did. It sounded odd against his ears. Catherine was quiet, reserved, boring… everything Kit wasn’t.

“Us,” he corrected quickly. He’d been telling himself all day that it wasn’t a solo invitation; it was a cordial family invitation. Kit would have invited Anne or Gemma personally, if they were the ones she’d seen. It didn’t mean anything. He found himself feeling somewhat disappointed by the revelation, but he pushed the feeling aside.

Anne let out a quiet chuckle but didn’t elaborate. “Yes, us,” she agreed, though her giggle said otherwise. Harry eyed his mother curiously but didn’t have time to question her tone as he parked the car behind a decrepit old Mitsubishi that he was certain belonged to Kit.

“We should have brought something,” Harry told his mother suddenly, sounding panicked at the prospect of entering the Carrington house without a hostess gift. Anne furrowed her brow at her son and held up the slender wine gift bag in her hand.

“We did,” she reminded him. “And you spent the better part of half an hour picking it out.”

“Yeah,” Harry said slowly, the bottle of expensive French wine looking suddenly small and pathetic. “But we should have brought food or something. Or flowers. Flowers would have been nice.”

“Why are you so concerned,” asked Anne as she got out of the car, meeting Harry at the front of the vehicle. “The wine is lovely.”

“I suppose,” answered Harry with a loud sigh, disdainfully gazing at the bag in his mother’s hand. It was fine. It was a nice bottle and wine was a completely acceptable hostess gift. But “nice” and “acceptable” weren’t qualities that would impress Kit.

Anne chuckled, shaking her head at her son. “Come on,” she told him, linking an arm through his as they walked to the front door.

The first thing Harry heard when he stepped into the Carrington house behind his mother was the incredibly off-key, shrieking duet of All I Want for Christmas is You between Kit and Tim Carrington. It sounded as though they were competing for the title of Worst Caroler of 2013 – and knowing the competitive Carrington kids, it was quite likely there was a bet on the table.

“Don’t mind them, I think they’re both rather pissed,” Penny Carrington informed Harry and Anne, her own bright eyes indicating she may be in the same boat as her children. Reaching her arms out towards Harry, she smiled at him. “It’s so wonderful to see you, my love,” she cooed to Harry, enveloping him into a tight hug.

“You’ve gotten so tall,” she added, pulling away from Harry and holding him at an arm’s length, examining him. “You used to be quite the little midget, weren’t you?” she asked teasingly, looking towards Anne and sharing a giggle with her old friend before pulling her into a hug as well.

“I wasn’t that small,” Harry protested good-naturedly, knowing that he had been. “But it’s good to see you, too,” he added, looking around the small house before him. He didn’t think anything had changed, except maybe the curtains above the sink. He supposed it hadn’t been that long – just a couple of years – but given how drastically his life had changed, it felt like many lifetimes ago since he’d stood in the house.

“Little Kitty was quite happy that she saw you,” Penny informed Harry, gesturing for the two of them to follow her deeper into the house.

“She was?” asked Harry, his voice sounding more excited than he’d intended, causing Anne to shoot him a knowing look, which he chose to ignore. He didn’t need Anne knowing he still harboured a schoolboy crush on Kit. Unbeknownst to him, she already knew.

“Hmm… Oh, yes,” Penny replied airily. “Here, let me take your coats,” she said, not elaborating on her comment. Harry wanted to press further, but as Penny reached out to take his coat, he couldn’t think of a way to urge her to continue the story, so he handed her his coat, leaving the rest of the story unfinished.

“Thank you,” Harry told Penny, staring at her in an attempt to silently will her to tell him what else Kit had happened to say about their chance encounter the previous day. He felt a bit silly, like an over-zealous school girl, but he found himself desperate to know why Kit had been so happy to see him.

Instead, Penny smiled at Harry and nodded towards the stairs. “In case you didn’t hear them, Timothy and Kitty are in the loft,” she told Harry. “My niece Polly is up there, too, along with Timothy’s… girlfriend,” she added, rolling her eyes at the term and uttering a dejected sigh. “We can’t pick all of their loves, can we?” she asked Anne, sighing again dramatically, easily conveying her true feelings about Tamara to Anne and Harry.

“No, but we certainly try, don’t we?” answered Anne, smirking in Harry’s direction. He pursed his lips together and shook his head at the two women in front of him.

“On that note…” he said decidedly, shaking his head again before bolting up the stairs to the loft. At the top of the narrow staircase was a small landing – the loft. Kit’s bedroom was on the right side of the room, Tim’s on the left. The loft was furnished with a couch and armchair, not leaving much room for the two bookcases and TV stand shoved into the corner. It was overwhelmingly crowded and yet perfectly cozy at the same time.

“Oh, my God!” Tim shrieked, turning around as he heard Harry’s footsteps on the stairs. He pressed his hands against his cheeks and jumped onto the seat of the couch, bouncing up and down as he imitated a hysterical fan. “It’s Harry Styles from One Direction!” He dropped his hands from his face, flapping them around as he leapt over the back of the sofa, landing in front of Harry. He flashed his friend a grin, thrusting his hand towards him. “Good to see you, mate,” he stated in a normal tone, shaking Harry’s hand.

Harry laughed at Tim’s re-enactment of a fan. It was entirely too accurate but he wasn’t going to tell him. One of the greatest things about being home in Holmes Chapel was that he wasn’t Harry Styles from One Direction. He was Little Harry, Gemma’s Brother and just Harry. He liked being just Harry, even if just for a few days.

“You too, brother,” Harry replied, the handshake seguing into a back-thumping, manly hug. Over Tim’s shoulder, Harry spotted Kit, sprawled sideways on the armchair. Her skinny legs were draped over the arm of the chair, her head propped against the other arm. She looked to be wearing a nice holiday dress, but the formality of the outfit was misguided by the thick, wool socks tugged up her calves. She had been laughing at something Polly was saying, eyes squeezed shut as she cackled, but as Tim and Harry hugged, Harry’s eyes met hers.

“I’m more of a Zayn girl myself,” she called over to Harry teasingly. “Is he here?” She flashed Harry a bright smile, ignoring the tummy flip-flop she’d experienced when he came up the stairs. She hadn’t expected Harry to show up, but she found she’d been hopeful for his arrival all afternoon. She dropped her legs to the floor and tugged on the hem of her dress. Suddenly, she felt ridiculous in the lace dress that was too red, too short. After seeing the never-worn dress, Polly had insisted that Kit wear it, but she wished she’d put her foot down and wore the black A-line instead.

“Sorry,” Harry lamented, shrugging wistfully as he watched Kit stand up. Her dress clung to her gangly body, creating the illusion of curves. He was surprised to see Kit in something so feminine and it took him a moment to realise he was staring at her. “Uhm… just me,” he added, hoping his face didn’t match Kit’s dress.

“I guess that’ll do,” Kit joked, stepping around the sofa, not noticing Harry’s stares. “Thanks for coming, though!” She told him earnestly, encircling her arms around Harry’s waist in a greeting. Inhaling, she was surprised she noticed how delicious Harry smelled. She gave her head a quick shake, pulling away from him. “Do you remember our cousin, Polly?” She asked, nodding to the plump girl sitting against the bookshelf in an attempt to forget about Harry’s cologne.

“Of course,” Harry replied, still feeling Kit’s body against his after she pulled away. He didn’t remember Polly well, but he didn’t want to be rude. “How are you, Polly?”

“Fucking legless, love,” Polly announced, her head swaying slightly as she slurred out the words, holding up her mug of mulled wine. “Happy holi-Christmas-days,” she added, smirking up at Tim as he clunked his own mug against her head, stepping over her to reach the couch.

“My lady was pretty keen on meeting you, but she needed to put herself to bed a bit ago,” Tim said to Harry, shrugging unsympathetically. Sober Tamara was irritating enough… Drunk Tamara was unbearable. “Think she tried to keep up with this one,” he added, shaking his head at his cousin, though a hint of a proud smile on his face.

“That’s too bad,” Harry commented, though he didn’t care if Tim’s girlfriend was around. Judging by Kit and Penny’s opinions of her, it was just as well that she was tucked into bed.

“Come, sit!” Kit urged, placing her hand lightly against Harry’s back, directing him towards the couch. “Let’s see if Polly left anything to drink,” she added, lightly teasing her cousin, who didn’t seem to hear Kit’s comment. “We brought Mom’s slow-cooker up here,” she added with a giggle, pointing to the appliance sitting in front of the television set.

“Brilliant,” Harry joked, settling on the end of the sofa as Kit kneeled in front of the slow-cooker, sloppily spooning the drink into a festive Santa Claus mug. “Gemma’s sorry she couldn’t make it,” he added, reminding himself to stop checking out Kit’s body. The dress was definitely the Christmas miracle of the year. “She had a dinner party tonight. But she wanted me to get your number for her, so you can get together in London.” He paused, wondering if Kit would believe him. Gemma had said she would like to see Kit, but the part about Harry getting Kit’s number was his own idea, for his own benefit. He felt a bit devious, but he didn’t know if he could ask Kit for her number for himself.

“Oh, that would be so fun!” Kit exclaimed, turning back to Harry and handing him his drink. “And then you can come, too,” she added gleefully, plopping back down on the armchair and slurping from her own mug.

Taken aback by Kit’s suggestion, it took Harry a moment to nod in response. “Yeah,” he agreed, unable to conceal his wide smile. “That would be lovely. Maybe… we can make it happen sometime after the New Year?” he proposed, not about to let Kit’s suggestion be one of the cordial invitations that was always just talked about and never planned. Spending time together in London would happen, even if his older sister had to tag along.

“So can I… what’s your number?” he asked, fiddling with his phone and feeling awkward as he asked his best friend’s sister for her phone number while said best friend was sitting beside him. But as far as Tim was aware, the number was for Gemma, not Harry, and Harry wanted Tim to keep thinking that way.

“Oh yes,” Kit chirped, jumping up from the chair. She settled along the wide arm of the sofa beside Harry, stretching her legs out as she reached for his phone. “Gimme gimme,” she told him, rubbing her fingers together. She exhaled, attempting to keep her giddiness at bay. She didn’t think Harry Styles would have ever asked for her telephone number. Granted, he was asking for his sister, but she felt a little thrill at her number being in his phone, and wondered how elated her thirteen year old self would have been.

Distractedly, Harry passed his phone to Kit. Her close proximity to him and the feeling of her hip bone pressed against his shoulder was enough to cause ass-kicking worthy thoughts to run through his mind. He furtively glanced at Tim, hoping his friend hadn’t noticed Kit’s perch on the couch. Tim was watching them, but he had an entertained grin on his face – hardly the face of a protective older brother.

“You know she’s probably texting all of your ex-girlfriends right now, yeah?” Tim commented, nodding at Kit, who was tapping her way through Harry’s phone. “I haven’t trusted Kit with a phone since she pretended she was me and told Violet Ross she ought to get herself checked for the herps.”

“Oh, I did not,” Kit lied, carefully selecting an emoji to text to herself, ensuring Harry’s number would be safely in her own phone. She looked up, the faces of Tim, Polly and Harry all staring at her in disbelief. “Okay, I did,” she determined with a shrug, handing Harry back his phone. “But you have to admit… she was quite the little dirty birdie,” Kit added, sliding off the arm of the couch and plopping herself back into the armchair, unaware that Harry would have preferred that she stayed beside him.

“All the fun ones are, hey mate?” Tim answered with a laugh, reaching over and smacking Harry’s arm. “I reckon you’ve had some right freaky dames between your sheets,” he added, a dreamy look crossing his face, as though he was imagining being Harry for a day.

Harry flushed a deep crimson, scowling at Tim. “Ermm… well… what happens in the sheets, stays in the sheets,” he offered, attempting to sound mysterious and hoping he didn’t sound like the womanizer he wasn’t. The media easily bestowed the title of Ladies Man on Harry almost immediately upon inception of the band. It wasn’t true, but being the young, curly-haired charmer, it became canon. He hated it – and he especially hated it when a cute girl was within earshot of the lewd comments her brother was likely about to make.

“Oh, come on!” Tim protested, a cheeky grin on his face. “Tell me a story!”

Polly scoffed loudly. “Timothy, stop being so smarmy!” she scolded. “Just because you talk about bed mates as if they’re objects doesn’t mean an incredibly handsome… charming… beautiful… Ermm…” Polly trailed off, seeming to lose her train of thought as she admired Harry. “I’ve lost it,” she said after a moment, shrugging carelessly. “Put a sock in it,” she ordered, taking a drink.

Kit giggled loudly, grabbing a remote from the end table and tossing it in Tim’s direction. “She told you!” she snickered, pleased that Polly had shut Tim up. Growing up with Tim, Kit had heard a lot of stories about a lot of girls – and they never bothered her. But the thought of hearing Harry regale the group with tales of his promiscuous trysts didn’t sit well with her. She didn’t know why, but she would almost rather hear Tamara quote Mean Girls while discussing the best Instagram filter than hear about Harry’s clandestine rendezvous with Taylor Swift. Almost.

“Sorry, mate,” Harry apologised with a laugh, relieved that loud-mouthed Polly had taken it upon herself to tell Tim to stuff it, knowing he couldn’t do it himself.

“I’ll still… Jesus Christ, that’s obnoxious!” Tim said, changing his statement and making a face as Kit’s phone began to ring, emitting a high-pitched whistle simulating a dropping sound before seguing into a rising tone. “Only dogs should be able to hear that sound.”

“Suppose that’s why you heard it,” Kit answered sweetly, looking at the call display on her phone. She hesitated for a nearly unnoticeable moment before ignoring the call, setting her phone on the end table beside her. Looking up, she caught her brother’s eye, knowing he saw her hesitation and the uncomfortable look on her face.

“Who was that?” he asked, his voice stern as he stepped into his role as older brother.

“No one,” Kit replied, taking a drink and silently telling Tim to drop it. She knew he knew exactly who was on the other end of the line, but she didn’t want to discuss it with him, not now. Not ever, truthfully, but she knew she wouldn’t be that lucky.

“Jesus, Kit,” Tim spat out, his voice coated with disgust. “Was it fucking Kevin?”

“Who’s Kevin?” Harry asked before he could stop himself. He knew it wasn’t any of his business, but he caught the looks between Tim and Kit, and knew this Kevin character wasn’t someone who should be calling Kit. He felt a need to protect Kit, though his reason was obviously different than Tim’s.

Kit scowled at Tim, wishing she still had the remote control beside her to throw at him. Instead, she tugged on the ends of her hair, maintaining her glare in Tim’s direction. “He’s just a… he’s my… my boyfriend,” Kit directed to Harry, her head dropping, an unexplainable feeling of guilt washing over her as she proclaimed her relationship status.

“Your boyfriend?” Harry repeated, the word sounding foreign as he spoke it. If it wasn’t for her downward gaze and awkward hair-twirling, he would have bet she was kidding. Maybe she still was. Kit’s jokes weren’t usually stand-up quality, and this one certainly wasn’t. But, no… she was serious. The revelation that Kit wasn’t available caused a heavy weight to settle in the pit of his stomach.

“Your what!” Tim exploded, his outburst making Harry’s statement almost inaudible. “Are you a fucking idiot, Kit? Again? After all of the shit he pulled? What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“What did he do?” Harry persisted, feeling frustrated that he didn’t know what was going on. Tim was one of the biggest dolts Harry ever had the pleasure of knowing, but he didn’t make it a habit to speak to his sister with such vulgarity.

“Calm down,” Kit told Tim, irritated that her brother was making such a scene about her relationship. “He’s not as bad as you think, Timothy! And if you want to talk about shitty boyfriend and girlfriends…” She trailed off, jerking a thumb towards his bedroom door, where the sound of Tamara’s drunken snores softly floated into the loft.

Tim scoffed loudly. “Tamara never lied about her age to me and slept with my roommate just because I wasn’t home!” He retorted, shaking his head. “This fucking guy is, what, twenty six or some shit?” He asked, directing his question to Kit but explaining the situation to Harry. “Said he was twenty, and this one bought it. Moved into her place in London almost as soon as she did, no fucking job or anything… Got this one to pay for everything. Real fucking prize. Dumped her in the fall for some broad even younger than Kit!” Tim exhaled a loud sigh, shaking his head again. “Just fucking tell me he’s not living with you,” Tim stated, almost pleadingly.

“He’s not,” Kit bit out, crossing her arms in a huff across her chest, mortified that Tim just spilled all of her sordid relationship details to Harry. She wanted her life in London to seem exciting and impressive, not quite on the same calibre as Harry’s life, but maybe close. Instead, the apparent wretchedness of her life and her boyfriend was now spread out on the table, for everyone to see and no one to be impressed by.

Harry clasped his hands together, Tim’s words crashing together erratically in his mind. Hearing that Kit had a boyfriend was enough of a punch to the gut for one night, but knowing that he was nothing more than a pathetic loser who somehow managed to snag the most wonderful girl in the world and subsequently treat her like garbage made him want to throw up. And introduce Kevin to his fist.

“Sounds like a… real piece of work,” Harry stated, careful to keep his voice even. He didn’t want to insult Kit’s choice of a partner, but she needed to know she deserved so much more than someone who didn’t think she hung the moon. “Are you happy?” He asked Kit, the words feeling as though he was forcing them through a brick wall, but needing to know.

Kit stood up abruptly, grabbing her phone from the table. “Of course,” she answered, her voice tighter than she’d intended it to be. It wasn’t Harry’s fault that Tim had a big mouth, or that she had terrible taste in men. Still, it didn’t make the situation any less humiliating. Refraining from telling the group she’d be back – as much as she wanted to – she glared down at her brother as she brushed past him.

“Thanks, Tim,” she told him quietly, sarcasm with an undertone of sadness evident in her tone, before disappearing down the stairs.

Notes