Wasn’t sure I wanted to take them off. Ever.
“And welcome once again to my Bountiful Bling Broadcast!” Alec chirped behind me, almost startling me into a very non-podcast-friendly curse. “Tonight, My Personal Santa and I will be offering you a whole new outlook on bling from our exclusive haven in the sun!”
I held my nerve as long as I could, while praying for an early escape from this arduous event. Well, arduous for me because I’d never felt any desire to be an actor—real life was tough enough to cope with—and pretending to be on holiday was a bit, well, daft. To say nothing of the growing discomfort in my lap area, cosying up to a glowing, extroverted Alec while we showed off the sunglasses, and he chattered on. One pair on, then off, next pair on, then off… I felt clumsy compared to his graceful flourishes, but he seemed delighted with everything we did. Even when the arm snapped on a couple of pairs—really poor quality, but what did I expect?—and I had to scrabble between his legs to pick them up again.
After a while, I realised that his followers were typing comments while he spoke, but he didn’t seem keen on me looking more closely at them. For the last few minutes, just like yesterday, he waved me over to the sofa and finished the show on his own. I just watched, enchanted with his lively, gossipy tone. And oh, the giggles! I didn’t think I had much time for guys who giggled.
Couldn’t take my eyes off Alec.
He joined me afterwards and we had another couple of beers together. It was much more relaxing than yesterday, like we were already friends. Took me half an hour of lounging on the sofa beside him before I realised I was still wearing a pair of the sunglasses, and I wasn’t suffering early-onset sight loss. And I only noticed because he dipped his head shyly, leaned in across the beer bottle I was raising to my mouth, and kissed me. The sunglasses bounced off my head in both shock and my eagerness to kiss him back.
“Is this okay?” he all but whispered, eyes wide, lips shiny with moisture.
“Yeah. Uhn. Oh yeah.” So much okay, my chat-up skills had deserted me. He’d think I was a complete clod.
“Thank you,” he said softly. “I keep saying that, it seems.” He ran a hand tenderly over my head, which was when I realised I was still wearing a soft turban, too. After my performance with him on the podcast, and when I kept exaggeratedly shivering, he’d tossed it to me to wear—forty per cent of heat is lost through the head! he’d mouthed to me, while still chatting away online. Now I let him slide it off, tugging some strands of hair with it, releasing me from its warm cocoon. I should have been embarrassed, looking like a washerwoman from a wartime poster. But it wasn’t like that. I’d loved the warmth of the fleecy fabric. And I was secretly amused by the comic book characters sewn onto it that I’d never seen in any generic merchandising stores.
He cuddled up to my side. I slowed my drinking, suddenly very reluctant to be on my way.
“So.” I licked my lips, eager to kiss him again, hoping my breath didn’t smell too bad after a sweaty day of hefting parcels about and a rushed cheese and onion sandwich lunch. “You’re a… you know. Fashion vlogger. Tell me what that’s all about.”
“Well. I talk about fashion, I wear fashion, I advertise my sponsors’ styles.”
“Are they all crap?”
He frowned up at me. “Gray! Don’t be so quick to criticise my livelihood.” But his eyes looked troubled. “Okay. I know they’re not the best quality. But that’s the deal. I advertise their stuff, they help me pay for the equipment and the video channel. I don’t have any other… well, I need their support, that’s all.”
“Don’t you want to talk about your own stuff?”
“My…? Wh-what do you mean?”
“That scarf yesterday was yours, wasn’t it?” I’d had some time to think this through. “And this turban. And these shorts. They are shit-hot.”
“They are?” He blushed. “I mean, you don’t have to be kind.”
I hadn’t often been accused of that, I must say. It made me feel strangely warm inside. “I mean it. They’re comfy, is the best thing. But the style is unique, too. It’s witty. Fun. Attractive, but not too outrageous.”
“It’s something someone like you would wear?”
“Yeah. I would.”
“But not the more outrageous—?"
“No,” I said firmly, wondering what the hell else he might have designed. “I like to look good. I want to stand out. But not too much. Difficult to explain.”
“No. I understand. In fact…” Alec’s blush was so very cute, especially up close and personal. “Well, I would love to be a professional designer. It’s my most treasured dream. And that’s what I’ve been aiming for in my own work. A unique twist on ordinary men’s wear. It’s so boring otherwise, isn’t it? Same styles, a ridiculously limited range of colours. A lot of men want to look special. But I also know most men don’t want to look frivolous, so I just…”
“Elaborate,” I offered.
“Yes. That’s exactly it! I collect unusual fabrics from the charity shop below. I buy up anything that I think I can make into a new garment, and decorate the rest myself. And the shop lets me rummage through anything that isn’t selling, that they’ll be getting rid of.”
“You’re really talented.” I smiled down at him. Maybe some of the bling on the sunglasses was reflecting in his pupils because they seemed very bright.
“I-I am?”
“You are.” And so gorgeous; so pretty. I wished I was uninhibited enough to say it aloud.
“But anyway.” He gave a loud sigh. “As you so bluntly, but truthfully, pointed out, I’m committed at the moment to the crappy, tacky products. I’ve launched my channel on that basis, and I need to see that out. Maybe next season I’ll catch up with it all. Get back on track with my own ambitions…”
His cute face was twisted up with regret. But that was before all his features went out of focus as we kissed again. And kissed, for a long, sexy, cosy, and wonderful time.
I hoped it would put that cheeky smile back on his face.
Three
On The Third Day Of Christmas
On the third day’s delivery visit, I just walked right into the unit without Alec even suggesting it. He didn’t seem to mind at all. In fact, he took the much smaller box from me and put it down onto the counter without a second glance. Then tugged me closer and kissed me.
Oh. It was marvellous. So marvellous, I forgot that the snow had been packed ankle deep at the bottom of the staircase, my socks were sodden and my toes chilled because my boots were wearing thin, and three of the hens in the garden of the apartments next door had escaped and were currently settling possessively on the warm bonnet of my van. I’d just left them to it. I had a vlogger to see!
“So. What are you modelling tonight?” I asked, when we came up for air. He was already half-dressed in one of his cropped, glittery T-shirts and clingy cycle-short things.
“What are we modelling?” Alec said with that puppy-dog gaze he must know dug right under all my defences.