Last minute packing has never been my thing. Yet here I find myself, launching sweaters and underwear and a maybe-I’ll-wear-this-but-I-probably-won’t cocktail dress into my suitcase.

There is absolutely no order to it. Zero neatness. If I weren’t in such a rush, I’d be itching to organise it, but as it happens, I am rushing. Very much so. This is what happens when you receive a last-minute text from your brother’s girlfriend saying your ride will be with you any second now.

My ride, by the way, is a man I’m yet to meet. My brother’s girlfriend’s brother.

Well, I say I’m yet to meet him, but the truth is, I feel like I know him already. I’ve heard enough stories about the guy to be able to paint a pretty good picture. He’s twenty-six, one year older than me, and he’s the type of brother who would enter a party with a baseball bat if he heard that someone was threatening his sister. Terrifying, I know, but also kind of admirable.

He’s also the type of person who you don’t want to keep waiting, hence my current rush.

I hear a knock on the door and try not to shriek. It’s followed by the loud ding dong ding of the doorbell. Throwing my suitcase closed, I dive on it, doing my best to squash the contents down so I can pull the zippers together. This is the trouble with packing for a winter getaway: all of my items are bulky.

Once the two zips are at a reasonable distance from one another, I lug the suitcase downstairs, taking care not to topple over with its weight.

“I’m coming!” I call to Adrian, whose name I thankfully remember.

“Don’t rush on my account.”

“Oh.” I stop still when I notice the man standing at the bottom of the stairs. He’s tallish, with dirty-blonde, tousled hair, thick brows, and a tan complexion. He looks younger than twenty-six except for the fact that his jaw looks chiselled with age. He’s dressed casually in an oversized hoodie and light-wash jeans, but he manages to pull the look off. Much better than me standing in my oversized sweater and leggings. I trail my eyes upwards, past his Adam’s apple, stopping on the bright blue eyes that are now locked on mine.

“Or maybe rush a little.”

“Sorry.” I drag my luggage down the last few steps, passing him as I enter the living room, where I pause, compelled to turn back. “You have really nice eyes.”

He blinks as though he didn’t expect me to say that. But really, I’m sure he hears it all the time. They’re the kind of cerulean blue that I’m sure has everyone staring. I’d stare for longer if I didn’t consider it to be rude.

“Thanks?” He poses the word as a question, and I can’t help but smile.

“You’re welcome.” Leaving my luggage by the radiator, I head for the kitchen, where I stop again, a sudden thought hitting me. “Wait, how did you get in here? I didn’t give you a key.”

Adrian pauses by my luggage, having followed me into the living room. He looks wildly out of place in the undecorated, tiny room, like a fire crackling in a polar desert. “The door was ajar. I thought you left it that way for me.”

“Ah, no. That’ll just be my dodgy lock.”

“You should get that looked at.”

“I know.” I smile over my shoulder before disappearing into the kitchen. It’s as barren as the living room and as shamefully without character. “I’ll just be a minute,” I call to him. “I’m grabbing the snacks.”

Two-minutes later, and I’m back in the living room, hugging a picnic basket to my chest and staring at this stranger who’s staring at my picnic basket like there’s a dragon curled up inside.

He sucks in a deep breath. “This is a nice place you’ve got.”

I have a feeling he’s going to circle back to the basket. “No, it’s not,” I laugh. “It’s completely void of any personality.” His look tells me he knows it’s true. “I moved in here earlier this year,” I explain. “And I haven’t gotten around to doing anything with it yet.”

“Why not?”

I shrug as an uncomfortable feeling crawls up my chest. “Honestly? I have no idea how to answer that question.”

He stares at me for a few seconds longer before dipping his head at the basket. “Are you going to explain what that’s all about?”

I hug the basket a little tighter. It’s not like I expect him to try and pry it from me or anything, but if he tells me there isn’t enough room for it in the car, I’ll put up one hell of a fight. “It’s, like, a four-hour journey, isn’t it? We’re going to need snacks. And I packed some for you, too.”

“Six hours, probably. Given the weather. And thanks. I, er—didn’t think to bring any.”

My relief that he isn’t telling me to leave the basket behind is overthrown by my surprise. “You didn’t think to bring any food on a six-hour car journey?” As I wait for him to respond, I move to the window, peeping through the blinds to find the sky frosty-blue and clear. “And what’s wrong with the weather?”

“There’s meant to be a storm later,” he explains, running a hand through his tousled curls when I turn to face him again. A stray lock tumbles over his brow, but he doesn’t seem to notice. “That’s why I got here early. I’m hoping we can miss it.”

It’s only now hitting me that I’ll be spending the next several hours with this man whom I barely know, and there’ll be little else to entertain us besides each other. “If I annoy you on this journey, please don’t tell me.”

“I definitely will.”

Annoying mode: switched off.

I notice the thin square box in his hands and tilt my head. It’s been wrapped in white paper dotted with pastel-coloured presents, and it confuses me enough that I raise a brow at him.

“Oh.” He looks down as if just now remembering that he holds something in his hands. “This is for you.”

“For me?” My confusion multiplies.

“It’s your birthday today, isn’t it?”

Entirely surprised that Adrian would gift me something, I place the basket down and take it, unsure what to say in return. “Thank you. How did you know that it’s my birthday today?”

“Your brother told me.”

“Right.” I look at the gift, a giddy smile forming on my lips. “Can I open it?”

“You probably should. It’ll need using up today.”

I raise a brow at him before carefully unwrapping the paper. Normally, I don’t enjoy opening gifts in front of the giver because I always feel the pressure to react, but when I see what’s inside, it’s with genuine pleasure that my eyes flick up to meet his. “Japanese mochi?”

“Yeah, er—” He rubs the back of his neck. “Your brother also told me that you love the stuff—”

“I do love the stuff.”

“—and I thought you could have it on the journey. But…” his eyes trail to the picnic basket by my feet.

“Oh.” I look at it with him. Kicking the basket further away, I say, “Don’t worry. This mochi is getting preferential treatment. Have you ever tried it before?”

“No. Never.”

“Then you’re in for a treat. This is the best dessert in existence.”

That earns me a small smile. “Then I’m glad Jordan was honest when he told me what you’d like.”

“You didn’t need to go to the trouble, though. Really, I appreciate this so much.”

He shrugs. “I don’t mind shopping for birthdays. It’s Christmas that I hate.” I’m about to ask him to elaborate on that, especially with the festive season being in full swing, but he adds, “What’s with the bulk, by the way?” and I’m looking down as he nudges my bulging suitcase with the tip of his sock. He’s taken his shoes off, I notice for the first time. Very polite. “Didn’t my sister tell you we’re going for six nights, not two weeks?”

“Warm clothes happen to be bulky.”

“Is that so?” His lips twitch. “You don’t happen to have packed fifty blankets?”

“My blanket!” Ignoring his look of perplexity, I dart past him, taking two steps at a time up the stairs. In my room, I pull my thick, woollen blanket from my bed, tartan and perfect for winter, before carrying it down to a still-perplexed Adrian. “I need it for the car journey,” I explain. “It’s cold out there.”

He shakes his head, nodding at the other object in my hands. “And the pillow? Is that for warmth, too?”

“Listen.” I put on my schooling voice. “When it’s the heart of winter, and you’re going to a lodge in the middle of the woods, and you have a six-hour car journey ahead of you, these items are essential.”

“It isn’t quite in the middle of the woods.” The lodge is Adrian and his sister Evie’s holiday home. According to Evie, they’ve been to it almost every Christmas, and this year, they were kind enough to invite Jordan and me to join. Well, Evie was kind enough. I’m not sure what Adrian thinks about it. And, if I’m being honest, I’m pretty sure my invite was more of a sympathy thing. “And it’ll be more than six hours if we don’t get going.”

Adrian helps me load my items into the back of his gleaming SUV. It’s large enough to hold my luggage comfortably beside his, and if I had known that earlier, I might have packed more blankets.

Once the boot is closed, I turn to face him with my hand held out. “I’m Ophelia, by the way.”

“I know your name.” He shakes my hand with a perplexed expression. “I’m Adrian.”

“And I know your name,” I smile. “I just thought it would be nice if we officially introduced ourselves. It’s nice to meet you, Adrian.”

“Well, Ophelia.” He leans his hand against the trunk of his car. “Ready to hit the road?”