Page 53 of Yule Know It When You See It
“Because the entire point of the first night is to stay awake long enough to greet the sun.” I squeeze her hands with mine, and instead of hesitation, Theo’s grin widens.
“Alright. You leave first. I’ll follow in a minute so it doesn’t lookblatantlyobvious.” Theo grips my shoulders, leaning in to kiss my cheek, but freezes. “Right. Go, go.” She rushes me toward the exit and scurries in the opposite direction.
Chuckling, I don’t bother grabbing my coat to make it look less noticeable and pause in the doorway, waiting for her. Something hanging above catches my attention, and it’s like a beacon telling me that what is about to happen tonight will change everything. Despite not being in Norway, thisJulwill surpass them all. Draping from the doorway is a clump of green leaves and plastic tiny, white berries tied together with red ribbon.
Mistletoe.
I’m beside myself. Here I am, counting to one hundred and twenty seconds in my head knowingly, whisking away soon to spend anightwith Axel in ways I can’t imagine when I thought the worst of him moments earlier. But he turns out to be nothing like my ex and the polar opposite of him. He didn’t seek to removemefrom the byline buthimselfon my behalf. What parallel universe have I stepped into, and who do I talk to about a lifelong subscription?
I get to sixty-two seconds and can’t take it anymore. If I don’t have Axel’s hands on me stat, I may seriously combust. And this would be a real downer for anyone nearby. So, in theory, I’m having sex with Axel for the betterment of the world—for holiday spirit.
I’m throwing my coat on a beat later, rummaging through my notebooks, and grabbing my doodling and note-taking ones.
“Ditching us, are you?” Rupert asks, his voice suddenly posh and borderline British for whatever reason.
Desiree appears at his side, an all too knowing smug grin on her face, lips locked to her cup of punch.
“Not ditching. I had an epiphany for the story, and want to get it all written out before it escapes me. Youbothknow how that is.” I shove the notebooks in my bag and toss the strap over one shoulder.
“Why don’t you jot notes while you’re here?” Desiree’s cup flails around the office, that coy smile still plastered to her big fat mouth.
“Are you kidding?” I snort and lean on my desk chair, stumbling when it rolls away from me. “It’s far too distracting here. The music, the lights, the overlapping conversations. I’d barely get a sentence out, let alone paragraphs.”
They look at me incredulously after swapping “She’s so getting a lump of coal from Santa this year,” glances at each other.
A tingle settles over my skin, knowing Axel waits for me right outside, and I’m about to have one of the best nights of my life. It’s a preconceived declaration, I know, but I can’t deny the swoop he gives my stomach whenever I’m near him—the way I can feel my face light up when he catches my gaze, or the laugh only he can seem to pull from me—the one reserved in a bottomless pit of my stomach.
“Anyway, duty calls.” I give them a pageant wave and turn on my heel.
“More like booty calls,” Rupert mumbles to Desiree, giggling.
The sound of Desiree’s hand swatting his shoulder and Rupert shrieking a girl-like “ouch” makes me pause and finally look at them.
Rupert pretends to pout at Desiree and rubs his shoulder, but Desiree’s eyes meet mine, and she mouths the words, “Have fun.” It’s all I need. And it’s not as if I ask my friend’s permission to sleep with whomever I please, but the sheer fact they’re so in my corner about this makes my steps to the exit seem much lighter and effortless.
When I push through the double doors, Axel stands in the next doorway, casually leaning on the frame with his giant hands in his pockets. His legs cross at the ankles, and he points up with the most mischievous grin I’ve seen on him yet. There, hanging perfectly centered, thanks to Mary, is a sprig of mistletoe wrapped in bright red satin ribbon.
I take my time walking to him, exaggerating one foot crossing over the other until I, too, am nestled under the mistletoe with him. “Do Yule traditions have anything related to mistletoe?”
“Definitely.” He sneaks a hand into my jacket, resting it on my hip. “It started back with the Celtic Druids. But the particular story I grew up with is the goddess Frigg being so happy the mistletoe saved Baldur’s life that she vowed to kiss anyone who walked beneath some as a sign of love and appreciation.”
Love and appreciation. These two words alone have my heart humming and my toes scrunching as much as they can scrunch within my shoes.
“Well, then—” I step forward and wrap my arms around his neck. “We shouldn’t disappoint her.”
His eyes go heavy, and he bends to me, pressing a soft kiss to my lips. He keeps it short. No more than three seconds because we both know this isn’t the place for it. But the moment, this blissful holiday moment we share, can last two seconds or a hundred, and it’d still be perfection.
“Come on, Romance.” Axel steps back and holds both hands out to me. “Time to start new traditions.”
It’s snowing outside the office—big chunky flakes that obscure your vision and are easy to catch on your tongue. The sidewalks have turned icy, and with the weather the way it is, they’ll wait before throwing salt down. I yelp as my heels try mercilessly to gain traction, immediately regretting wearing them. But honestly, who wears a dress like this and snow boots? And though my mind made up all kinds of scenarios on what may or may not transpire tonight, walking to Axel’s apartment to stay the night was not one of them. Otherwise, I would’ve prepared for it.
Axel chuckles and shakes stray snow from his beard before giving me his back. “Hop on.”
I blink at him as if he asked me to pole vault onto his back versus a simple hop. “You’re going to give me a piggy-back ride?”
“Why not?” He does a double take, eyes roaming my thighs, and nods. “Your coat’s long enough to cover your ass.” Axel hunches forward and pats his back. “I need younotbroken tonight, and there’s no way in hell you’re going to make it in those shoes. So, Theodora—” He flashes me a stern yet playful stare over his shoulder. “Hop. On.”
It’s so incredibly twisted how turned on I get when he commands me but then again, this man could order me to have the last Oreo and I’d happily oblige. Because it’s a game we play. We already have a “thing.”
