Holiday

This is happening

This is very much a filler chapter, and 95% waffle, but i have a solid idea in my head about the next couple of chapters so hopefully there won't be so much of a wait, thank you for all the support x
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When we got downstairs, everyone was gathered in the kitchen. Rita was still there, but her coat was zipped up, and she was holding a key in her hand, identical to the one on the sideboard next to her.

"This key is yours. Feel free to take it with you when you go out. When you leave to go back home, just lock up and pop it through the letterbox, I have my own." She raised her key in a kind of salute before turning to the door and leaving with one last, "Enjoy your stay!"

Silence filled the room like ghost fog on a winter's night. Holly blew through her teeth as we all exchanged expectant glances. None of us knew what we were waiting for, but soon it became unbearable.

"I saw a leaflet for a Chinese at the station!" I blurted. The tension in the room dissipated.

Holly raised a delicate brow, folding her arms across her chest like a disappointed teacher, or a librarian peering down the length of her nose. "Do you know what the restaurant was called?" All of a sudden, the patterns made by the mud on my boots looked incredibly ornate, almost as if it had been painted on. "Was the front of the leaflet orange with a red dragons lining the edge? Yes? Then there is no way in this world or the next that we are going there. It tastes like baby food if an infant has poured any spice it found into the pot. Besides,  the owner isn't even Chinese, or Asian at all.

No, that won't do at all. There is, however, a place where I can easily get a discount as I used to be good friends with the boy who is now the owner, and they do a beautiful Chow Mein. They also happen to be just down the road from here. Should I ring now and see if we can sort something out?"

There was a collective nod of approval, and we all settled in the living room while Holly found the phone. I squeezed into the seat under the stairs, and, as I did so, Quill gave me a light nudge.
"I heard a thud before you guys came out. Is there something you would like to tell us, or were you moving furniture?"

"I tripped," I replied simply.

He studied me for a moment. "It sounded a lot heavier than that."

"Lockwood then tripped over me."

"Ah." Quill turned to the rest of the table, and I let out a heavy sigh. I studied him a little myself; it's only fair. With his freckles and carefully clipped hair, he looked about fifteen, but the permanent bags under his eyes proved otherwise. I suppose it's kind of weird that an adult is staying with us, but as far as I'm concerned, he's one of the team.

I glanced around the table to find Lockwood's eyes on me. I'd say there's a lot of that going around, but that might be a bit hypocritical. Instead of looking away as I would, he  kept staring. A warm sensation crept up my neck as the corners of his mouth twitched. There was something unnervingly honest about the way those dark pools took me in, the way his eyes moved up from somewhere on my face (not my eyes) to meet my own.

As we made eye contact, he took on an equally uncharacteristically sheepish look, rubbing one hand along the back of his neck and through his hair, the other reaching across his body to touch his elbow. He took a sudden interest in the conversation between George, Quill and Georgia, nodding and smiling at all the right bits, but his forehead seemed a little damp, and not just from the flannel I'd used earlier.