The On-Screen Marquess & I (The Holyoake Christmas Series, Book 1)

Just Ask

Amaratunga threw a glimpse at the phone, stretched, and pressed the button on the side, silencing the call. Interesting... He could've declined it but then the person would know he chose not to talk to them. Instead, he was giving them an impression that he couldn't hear the phone. The screen went dark - and lit up two seconds later with another call from Pickle. Amaratunga repeated the manoeuvre.

"Do you want to pick it up?" Anastasia asked innocently. "I can leave the room, since you can't hide in a bathroom with it."

"It's OK," he said, his eyes on the telly now. "What do you think of some good Sci-Fi? There's a couple of–"

The phone stopped vibrating and then dinged, signalling a voicemail.

"Are you sure?" Anastasia asked. "They clearly fancy talking to you."

"I'm sure," he answered, a tense note creeping into his tone. "StarTrek? Or some murder mystery? I remember you mentioned you enjoyed psychological thrillers. How about Shetland? I haven't seen it but–"

The phone emitted a loud beep, and Anastasia once again couldn't help but see that he got a text from Pickle. Blimey, that's a lot of exclamation marks!

"But the rating is very good," he continued stubbornly. "And the actor–"

Beep.

Beep. Beep.

She could almost hear how he ground his teeth, muscle knots moved on his jaw.

Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.

Are those... heart emojis?! Is he dating a teenage girl? Or a boy. A person. No judgement on either - but lots of judgement on the gifs and stickers jumping on his screen.

Beep. Beep.

"Would you already answer them?!" Anastasia hollered, stretched, and jerked her chair towards her. "I'll go to the loo meanwhile, or something."

"Anastasia, honestly–"

Beep. Beep. Beep.

"Actually, you know what? I have plenty of work to do," she said, pushing the afghan off her legs. "Maybe you should just talk to your friend, and then watch some Ghibli on your own."

He jerked towards her, hissed, and dropped back onto his cushion.

"It's not what–"

Beep.

Beep.

Oh!

Is that–

It is! No bloody way!

Why did you look, Anastasia?!

But that's definitely what she thinks it is. Who she thinks it is.

"Listen, I get it," Anastasia started speaking very, very quickly. It's not like you to be so flustered, Ten. What's with mumbling? "There's all this sexual tension between us, and you're home for Christmas, and 'tis the season, but can you, please, talk to your girlfriend? I'm honestly fine with–"

Beep.

"It's not what you think!" he exclaimed.

"Do you mean to say, it's not a picture of the famous actor Antonia Okonedo and her child that you've just received? In their PJs, eating croissants?" Anastasia immediately hated her own screechy caustic voice. You sound jealous, Anastasia. And bitchy. Pull yourself together. "Sorry. It's really none of my business." She shifted closer to the edge of the sofa. "Like I said, it's all this daft holiday cheer, and we're the only single people here. Well, as it turns out, we aren't, but–"