𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏𝟎

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I start my favourite day of the year in bed with my ex-boyfriend

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I start my favourite day of the year in bed with my ex-boyfriend. Like, curled up to his side, covers covering my head and legs tangled under the sheet.

Blinking my right eye open, I pin my gaze on the boy sleeping on his back beside me. He looks so peaceful, so unlike the most dangerous man in the country. His lips sit comfortably closed, forming a small, barely-there heart on his cupid's bow. The thick long eyelashes that I've always been jealous of rest on his cheeks. But what I love most is the ragged scars that mess up his otherwise perfect features.

There's a big scar going down the side of his sharp jaw, all the way down to his chin almost like someone had just dragged a knife down it. There's a smaller one under his left eye that's pretty deep and filled with a dark red. I'm not sure where those two scars came from but the one going through his right eyebrow—the tiny little line. He got that playing rugby in year nine, ran into the post and nearly got knocked out.

As I bring my finger up and trace lightly over his lips, his eye's immediately ping open. They stare back at me, two dark holes of virtually nothing. My reflection stares back at me in the glassy black of his pupils but I don't see him through them. No, I see the events of last night.

"What are you doing?" George asks, his voice low and raspy. Sleep coated thickly in his tone.

"Watching you sleep," I admit because I miss him. I miss us. I miss mornings like this.

"Like a pervert," he jokes, pouting his lips and kissing my finger that's still resting there.

I could tell him I miss him. Maybe everything could go back to normal. After all, it is Christmas and miracles do tend to happen at this time of year. But Albie's involved and so is a baby and so are my feelings and so is the past. It's not as easy as everyone may think—forgiving him and moving on.

"I should probably go back to my room before my sister wakes up." I climb off him and slide out of his bed. As weird as it is, his bed is a safety net for me. The night at that party ruined me, it completely fucking stripped me of any life but the fact I was laying on his bed while it happened? I don't k know, it changes things for me.

"Bit late for that, she's probably eating lunch right about now," George stretches, pushing to sit against his headboard. He reaches for his phone on the side table and flashes me his phone screen.

It's one in the afternoon. That means everyone is awake and probably has been for hours now. Luckily, we don't have any Christmas Eve breakfast traditions we missed out on.

"Oh," I mutter, eyes locked on my feet and the T-shirt I'm wearing that is clearly George's. From standing in his doorframe after my nightmare and falling back asleep in his bed, I don't remember an awful lot about what happened in between. My hair is slightly damp, though, so maybe we went swimming?

"Okay, well, thanks for your company," I nod my head at him and turn to leave.

"Haysie," George's voice stops me, turning around I face him. "Don't act like I'm your dirty little secret. Like, this shouldn't have happened. Don't fucking do that to me."

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