Page 11 of Mistletoe Kisses

Against the wall, a fire flickers. It’s the main heat source in the front of the house and I’m tempted to toss in another log. Anything to help fight the continuous amount of snow falling from the sky outside.

Every time I turn away from Mylo, my imagination gets the best of me. I feel his eyes digging into my back. Yet, with every glance over my shoulder, I can see his attention is elsewhere. He’s squinting, looking like he’s got plenty on his mind.

Wouldn’t it be more entertaining to spend time with my parents? They’re his friends after all.

Instead of voicing my thoughts, I keep my hands busy. Constantly moving, I’m tossing broken bulbs in a pile of their own and fixing hooks to make sure they cling to branches without any risk of slipping. Slowly, the tree transforms into a mess of colors and dazzling lights. Enough of them to be considered a fire hazard.

Once the tree is finished, I take a few steps back to take in my work. Pursing my lips, I tilt my head.

“It looks fine,” Mylo comments from the couch. Already taking his first break, I’m sure this will take a while. As if he can see the hesitation on my face, he scoffs. “Don’t worry too much about it.”

“Hard not to when my parents are going to want to take a thousand pictures in front of it. People will see how sloppy it is.” Crossing my arms, my lips purse. Reaching forward, I readjust some of the lights to spread them out better. Hearing him click his tongue, I ignore him.

Once I’m happy with it, I move on. There are more strings of lights and silver tinsel to decorate the stairs with. Archways as well. I’ll make everything perfect. It has to be.

6

Cassidy

Mylo eventually leaves his spot on the couch to help with the doorways. I attack the stairs. We both keep ourselves as busy as we possibly can.

After wrapping the stair rail with tinsel and doing the very same with lights, I plug them in and take a step back to appreciate my work. I can’t wait to see how everything looks once the sun is down.

Growing up, as a kid, I always felt like I was living in a dream when it came to my surroundings. This place always looked like a wonderland through the holidays. I missed this. I missed it a lot.

Before I get too lost in remembering the old days, I make my way back to the last worn tote and pick out my next decorations to hang. Untying a bag, I pause when I realize inside is a bunch of artificial mistletoe.

Dad always insisted on hanging some up at every doorway. As if he needed an excuse to kiss my mother, he always made her giggle by plucking her up before kissing her senseless. I can’t remember how many times I gagged and covered my eyes as a kid.

Those two are why I always had high expectations when it came to love. Couldn’t settle with someone who didn’t love me as much as those two loved each other. Maybe that’s why all my past relationships didn’t work out. I haven’t clicked with anyone, not in the sense that feels just…right.

Everyone I’ve been with just feels boring. Basic, even. I’m waiting for some kind of spark.Fireworks. Maybe I’m getting a little ahead of myself. I’d be lucky to find a man who can make me feel that way.

Shaking off this feeling, I pull out one of the bundles. With a few hooks already in place from previous decorations throughout the year, I head over toward the nearest doorway. Clutching the plastic leaves, I stare at the hook. It’s high up and my height isn’t cutting it.

Instead of going to find where the stepstool is, I step on my toes and try to reach the hook. Stretching, the tips of fingertips brush the hook. So close, I’m one hop away from hanging it. Just as I’m ready to jump, there’s a shift.

“Let me help.” Without warning, Mylo’s body appears out of thin air. Suddenly he’s right in front of me, those broad shoulders blocking out most of the light behind him. When did he get there?

My breath catches in my throat as he plucks the artificial mistletoe from my trembling fingers. I don’t think he looks away from my eyes as he lifts it toward the hook.

A lump the size of my fist forms in my throat as he latches it onto the doorway with ease. As his arms drop to his sides,he doesn’t move. Neither of us do. It’s like we’re both frozen in place.

We shouldn’t be standing here together. My parents are in the kitchen. Heck, I can hear my mother giggling. All it would take is ten steps for her to catch the two of us staring at each other.

Ever since I returned to this place, that’s all we’ve managed to get done. This tension growing tighter and tighter, fed by unspoken words has done nothing but make me want to scream and admit all my feelings I’ve been crushing down for years.

The tree could use a few more bulbs if I’m looking for an excuse to leave, and I haven’t cleaned up the loose silver tinsel strands that have slipped off the branches despite all my attempts to make them flow down the tree.

With so much to do, why am I stuck here? Stuck looking at Mylo while wishing there was a purpose behind giving me help.

“Thank you.” My appreciation comes out softer than the crackling logs in the fireplace. Not trusting my tongue, I don’t dare try to say it louder despite getting much of a response out of the older man.

He’s too busy staring at me. Not just my eyes, but my flushed cheeks, the freckles that scatter across my nose, and my lips. I lick them without thinking. His brows furrow.

The silence between us feels like a lifetime. Finally, he opens his mouth.

“Your family has always been so strict about traditions, you know?” His words come out slowly, almost like he’s testing the waters. “To be caught under one of these and do nothing about it feels nothing shy of a crime.”

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