All I Want For Christmas ? George Clarke

December 15th

Leaving Winter Wonderland was one of the most embarrassing experiences of my life.

Once we were off the ice, George and I hardly spoke to one another until the whole group decided to call it a night and when we said goodbye, it was incredibly awkward.

Bridget's been trying to convince me that it's really not a big deal.

"Come on, Ariel! He was trying to kiss you! What's so bad about that?" She says from somewhere to my left. I haven't actually seen her yet because I've not lifted my head from the pillow I've smushed it against.

"What if he just felt bad for me and was just trying to be nice?" I mumble into the pillow, which is probably now covered in my saliva.

"What?" I sit up and glare at Bridget. Her blonde hair is pulled back into a loose bun and she's still clad in her Stitch pyjamas. Her arms are folded across her chest as she looks at me with raised eyebrows.

"I said," Bridget rolls her eyes, "What if he was only leaning in 'cause I was? He was probably relieved when that alarm went off," She deadpans at me.

"You really think George would do that to you?" She says as she sits beside me. I bite my lip because no, I don't. Bridget continues, "Why's it so hard for you to accept that he might actually like you?" I fiddle with the ring on my finger and Bridget's shoulders deflate like a popped ballon. With a sigh, she places her hand on top of mine and we sit in silence for a moment.

"Alright, come on then. We need to get this place ready for tonight," Bridget announces as she uncrosses her legs and jumps off my bed. I furrow my eyebrows.

"What are you talking about?" I question as she yanks open my door. She turns her head to stare at me.

"Everyone's coming round for a movie night, remember? Okay, well, not everyone, but a lot of people. Now, get up before I pull you out of bed by your ankles," I pick up my saliva-covered-pillow and aim it at her head but she runs out the door, slamming it shut behind her. The pillow thumps against the door before falling helplessly to the ground. Bridget cackles from outside.

After showering and drying my hair, I apply some light make up and change into some tights and a black pleated skirt, throwing on my oversized Eras Tour jumper. Luckily, Bridget's already turned the heating on so the apartment is really cosy when I step into the living room.

I'm very nervous about George coming over. Okay, yes, I should probably just talk to him, but my fear of rejection doesn't really like that approach. I think my better option is to ignore the problem until it goes away. Always the best way to deal with things, if you ask me. I'm glad it's a big group of people, because if it was just me, George, Chris and Bridget like last time, I might've jumped out the window.

I slip on my purple crocs and find Bridget in the kitchen with a pile of Tesco bags on the table. She's wearing her pink classic-Christmas-patterned jumper and a pair of light-wash jeans, her pink Santa hat on her head. Oh god, don't tell me-

"Where is your Christmas jumper?" Bridget demands when she finally spots me standing on the other side of the island.

"Hopefully rotting at the bottom of my closet," I respond and Bridget looks at me like a teacher whose student has said their dog ate their homework.