Deathless

Chapter 18: Millie

There's a comforting weight to my camera, the way it fills my hands and allows me to view the world safely behind glass. I pivot on my feet, letting the lens glide across the crowded market, skimming rustic wooden huts, handmade trinkets and Christmas lights hanging from fake snow-covered roofs. On laughing and miserable-looking shoppers, screaming toddlers wobbling along in snow jackets, making them as round as footballs. I land on a group of four girls sitting on a picnic table next to the hot chocolate hut. They blow on hot drinks held between gloved hands. They laugh together, two girls are so comfortable their heads touch as they giggle.

I lower the camera without taking a single shot, my chest tight and the icy wind slapping the skin on my face, now unprotected by my camera. They look happy and easy together. They make friendship look simple and beautiful, like something from a clothing advert. I can't remember the last time I had that with a group of people. I can't remember ever looking that light and carefree.

"Apparently, if you stick it in a Christmas themed-paper cup, you should be willing to wait twenty minutes for it."

Jackson holds out the hot chocolate in front of me. Despite his dry words, he's grinning. The frigid air is turning his cheeks a festive red and just the sight of him makes me smile. And the weight that was like a vice on my heart lessens. I take the hot chocolate, my camera now hanging securely from my neck.

"Thank you. I'm sure it'll be absolutely delicious and worth every second you've queued for it," I say drily. He grunts, looking unconvinced.

Sipping deeply as Jackson watches me, I feel the sweet liquid slipping down my throat. The unexpected burn shocks me, and I cough and splutter until I'm almost hunched over. My eyes water until they sting. I can feel eyes on me from across the market and Jackson chuckling away in front of me. Before I can get mad, I feel a large hand moving in circles on the small of my back.

"What the hell..." I'm coughing too much to finish the sentence.

"I think you might have mine. I added a little something for flavour." Standing up fully, I see Jackson is grinning hard. I can't help but laugh, though I give him a look of faux annoyance. He takes his chocolate from my hand and hands me mine.

"And what flavour is that? Lava." I cough between chuckles.

"Whisky. We've definitely established you're not a drinker."

"Yeah, I think we can safely say that drinking is not for me."

He smiles, nudging me gently, and we walk away from the hut. I notice it's now the girls looking at me. They're whispering to each other and looking between me and Jackson like I'm the one who has something they want.

We make our way slowly through the Christmas market. Green and red lights twinkling above us, the smells of frying meat and sweet mulled wine rising to meet my nostrils. Not that I'm paying much attention, Jackson's hand is still on my back and even through my thick coat and jumper, I can feel the heat of his skin.

Friends. That's what we are, that's what he wants, but I know there's more here. Like grass growing slowly through cracks in the pavement. Weeks had passed and through all the time we'd spent together, nothing substantial had changed. The development was subtler, gentler. A ripple rather than a wave. Like his touch, which was frequent. Jackson always found a reason to touch me and I revelled in the feel of his skin on mine. Those sparks of electricity made it impossible to think of him as just a friend. They made me think of things that were far from... friendly.

"Any good shots?"

Jackson nods to my camera, disrupting my thoughts. Dropping my now empty paper cup into the nearest bin, I flick through the photos on the little screen, Jackson peering down from over my shoulder.