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sleep, feeling safe and cocooned in the warming car with the sound of Nick quietly singing.

Chapter Seven
     
    T HE SOUNDS of chatter woke Jamie when they had almost reached Brighton. Auntie Mimi and Nick were talking, with Mimi translating every now and again between Nick and Grandma.
    “He spat it right out then and there. His baba was so red in the face we thought he would explode.” Mimi laughed.
    “It’s that bad?” Nick asked with a grin, looking to her in the rearview mirror.
    “An acquired taste,” she replied. “If you can learn to love it, then you understand the king of fruits.” She nodded.
    “Oh God,” Jamie groaned around a yawn, sitting upright and massaging his neck. “Never let anyone fool you,” he warned Nick. “King of fruits,” he mimicked. “Smells like vomit and tastes like weirdly mushy slime.” Jamie shuddered.
    “Ai, Jamie!” replied Mimi. “You are too Western,” she scolded with a smile.
    “If being Western means having fully functioning taste buds, then I’ll take it.”
    He grinned, twisting in his seat. Mimi reached over and pinched his cheek, earning a yelp from him.
    Nick was sitting in his seat grinning, steering them into the city. “So no to durian, huh?”
    “Big no-no,” replied Jamie. He directed Nick toward the house, and it was nearing 9:00 a.m. when Nick pulled up into the driveway. Jamie realized he hadn’t called his parents to let them know they’d been on their way, but his mum soon opened the door in her dressing gown with a happy little skip and hugged them all in turn, Nick included.
    “This is my friend, Nick.” Jamie introduced them all once his dad had joined them. “He came to collect us.” He smiled, bumping his shoulder into Nick’s.
    “Bloody hell, you absolute star!” Jamie’s mum replied. “Well, then, you definitely need tea and breakfast. I’m Jane, by the way, and that there is Weng.” She waved a hand at Jamie’s dad, who, after hugging his mum, was now talking animatedly in rapid-fire Hokkien and heaving their bags from the back. “The rest of them are all hunched around the table stuffing their faces, so if you want feeding you better make it quick.” She grinned.
    Jamie’s dad disengaged himself from his mother and sister, leaving Jane to usher them into the house, and came over to shake Nick’s hand. “Thank you,” he said, clapping Nick on the arm. “You’re coming in for breakfast?”
    “I—” Nick began, starting a protest that was immediately cut short by Jamie’s dad.
    “Yes, you come in for breakfast. And stay. Have dinner with us if you have no plans?”
    “I couldn’t intrude,” Nick replied, shooting a glance at Jamie. They hadn’t exactly talked things out yet, but Jamie could tell Nick didn’t want to make him feel uncomfortable or awkward by staying.
    Baba threw a pointed look at Jamie and turned to Nick once more. “You’re welcome to stay,” he said, inclining his head and walking in to the house as Jamie’s mum called for him.
    Nick walked over to lean against his car, looking a bit overwhelmed, and part of Jamie felt sorry for him. His family was big and loud, and this was only a tiny bit of it, but mostly he couldn’t care less. He just didn’t want Nick to go.
    “You can stay,” he said, moving to stand next to Nick, shoulder to shoulder.
    They both eyed the house, the Christmas lights unlit in the window, the big decorated tree peeking through the curtains, the fake snow sprayed in patterns on the glass, offset by the real snow outside. It looked quiet and sleepy and just like a family home should on Christmas morning.
    Nick looked wistful, and Jamie remembered Nick had no family left. It made his chest and throat ache for him. He reached out and took Nick’s hand, their fingers cold as they entwined together. “Stay?” he asked quietly.
    Nick looked down at their hands and turned to face Jamie, stepping a little closer. “Is this okay?” he asked.
    He could have been