There’s an element of awkwardness to our movements with the occasional knock of the knees or fumbling hand or finger caught in a knot in my hair, which relaxes me. I feel I can be myself and so can he and there’s no pressure for perfection. Devon has this shy yet confident approach, drinking me in and taking his time and it sets my pulse racing.
‘Scar, you are awesome, do you know that?’ he says, feet playing footsy with mine at the end of the blanket, his finger drawing pictures on my stomach with the lightest touch, his head resting on his forearm to the side of me.
‘Thanks, so are you,’ I say dreamily. He kisses my cheek before announcing that we need more popcorn. He gets up, grabbing the bowl, when there’s a knock at the door.
‘You get the popcorn; I’ll get the door,’ I say following him.
Unlatching the lock, I swing open the door, completely forgetting my state of dress, and am greeted by a freezing cold wind and Hope and Jess.
‘Hey,’ I say in a sprightly tone, ushering them in and out of the cold, while I jump from toe to toe, my feet turning to icicles on the wooden floor.
‘Good afternoon,’ Hope says cheerily taking a step forward and looking over my baggy tee and shorts combo.
‘It’s already afternoon?’ I question. I had totally lost track of time, too busy focusing on the awesomeness that was Avengers Assemble.
‘Yes, I’ve been trying to call you to see if you were going to head to the inn to say bye to Devon…’ Her words trail off when she steps into the hallway as Devon walks out of the kitchen still in just his boxers, holding the bowl of popcorn.
Hope’s jaw hits the floor and her eyes grow large underneath her even larger glasses.
‘Oh God, we didn’t mean to interrupt you… you guys… you both… erm whatever you were up to… together,’ Hope stutters before peeling her eyes off Devon and looking at me. She gives me a coy nod, raising her eyebrows so they vanish into her hairline before her eyes find Devon again.
A moment passes and nobody moves or says a word until the door shuts behind Jess making me jump. Jess wipes his feet and steps forward past Hope.
‘Bye then, mate. It was good to meet you. We’re just going to get out of your way, and don’t be a stranger, hey.’ He pats Devon on the shoulder. Devon smiles and nods as Jess turns around, placing both his hands on Hope’s shoulders to guide her back out the door. This seems to remind Hope where she is and what she’s doing.
‘Oh, merry Christmas.’ She nods at Devon, her eyes lingering a little too long. Devon moves the popcorn bowl a little lower in modesty, causing my hand to shoot to my mouth to stifle a giggle.
‘Popcorn. Devon was just getting popcorn,’ I manage causally as Hope passes me and heads out the door, positively beaming like her Christmas has just come early. ‘See you guys later,’ I call after them, shaking my head in disbelief.
‘Thanks for stopping by,’ Devon shouts.
‘I wanted to give him a hug,’ I hear Hope say to Jess as they walk down the snowy path.
‘Probably a bit of an inappropriate time,’ Jess replies as he closes my garden gate behind them. I close the door and double over in a fit of giggles. I think I might have gone mad. I know Hope, I know what this scene looks like and I know what she is thinking and she is absolutely one hundred per cent right; it is exactly what it looks like and she would be right to think what she is no doubt thinking. I have no excuse and I’m not sure what to make of that yet.
A handful of popcorn hits me in the face and falls to the floor, the odd one getting caught in my hair. I wipe at my eyes and see Devon looking at me smirking and nibbling on popcorn yet still glued to the spot. I run at him and he dodges me running into the living room and over to the fire. Its heat is inviting after being stood in the chilly doorway. I abandon my attempt at getting Devon back with the popcorn, choosing to wrap myself up in the blankets and snuggle closer to the flames instead. Placing the bowl down beside me Devon slides into the duvet behind me, wrapping his arms and legs around me and resting his chin on my head. My body warms up within seconds.
‘What happens now?’ I ask, the flames hypnotic, calming my laughter as my brain registers why Hope and Jess had popped around; to say bye to Devon because Devon isn’t staying. He is leaving today.
‘We always wear pyjamas and check before answering the door,’ Devon suggests, squeezing me tighter. I snort despite the blizzard of emotions whirring around in my stomach. All at once they have hit me hard and I don’t want to speak for fear of getting angry with Devon for having to go or for bursting into tears, which is so not like me. Laughter is a safer bet and it’s not exactly difficult to laugh or feel happy either when Devon’s arms are wrapped around me and I can smell the mix of pancake batter lingering on his skin and his fresh, aftershave.
It’s not until the final log burns to ashes in the fireplace that I realise Devon should probably make a move. The clock on the mantel is telling us it’s three minutes past three and I know Devon has a nine p.m. flight. I imagine he’s got to pack and I’m sure his publicists and assistants are keen to arrive on time to the airport and get back home before Christmas. I turn into Devon as a thought crosses my mind.
‘What do your publicist and management team think you’re doing today?’ I enquire as the credits roll.
‘I asked if I could be left alone to spend time with my family before we left, and they obliged,’ he informs me, tucking my long bob behind my ear.
‘You can just do that, like they let you have your privacy? I thought you’d have paparazzi running around all the time?’ I question further, intrigued by how this all works. I haven’t thought to ask until now as the whole celebrity culture isn’t really my thing, but I’ve heard Hope talk about how tricky it is for celebs to lead normal lives with photographers constantly hounding them. But this week with Devon has been relatively calm besides all the action and filming at the inn.
‘It’s a little different in New York.’ He shrugs casually. ‘There are a few more posters, billboards and newspaper stands everywhere. Here everyone knows me, and they’ve allowed me to get on like I’m still just the little boy running around with my best friend. I like that. And there are certain rules and regulations paparazzi must adhere to these days. Plus, this documentary is relatively low key. They haven’t announced it yet, so my publicist hasn’t been too disgruntled by my disappearing acts and choosing what to keep private. I’m allowed to have a say,’ he finishes, fingers still in my hair.
‘Hmm, that’s good,’ I say, interested by the way in which he lives now. I can’t imagine seeing posters of my face on walls or billboards, causing people to stop and stare at me; then again I’ve occasionally thought about how cool it would be to have my own booth at a comic convention where people would know me and come and buy my comics; but a giant billboard, that’s a touch intimidating. I reach for the remote and switch off the TV. ‘Do you have to date people in your world? Hope’s told me stories about fake relationships for publicity. Do you get a say in who you date?’ I ask, absent-mindedly stroking my fingers over his forearm.
‘Yeah, I guess fake relationships have been known to happen. Publicists will try and have a say in everything and can get carried away if you let them. They’re just doing what’s best for business and if they think dating a certain celeb will put you on the map and get your movie more attention, then they can be pretty ruthless; but you don’t have to worry about that. I’d never do that. Those Ruby rumours are not my publicist, just journalists trying to stir things up,’ he tells me, making a lump form in my throat.