Page 111 of Meet Me on Mistletoe Lane

“Who the heck cares?” I jumped to my feet at the same time he did before the two of us stepped carefully around the sleeping bodies surrounding us.

We slid into our boots, coats, gloves, and hats, shushing each other more than once before I opened the front door for us and took a sharp inhale as the blustery cold air hit me.

I took Sam’s hand and tugged him off the front steps. “Come on!”

The freshly fallen snow muffled our footsteps, and it felt like I hopped on clouds as we hurried into the front yard. Nona’s lamppost already had snow forming on top, and with its warm, muted glow and the way the powdery snow clung to all of the bare branches of the trees, it was like Sam and I were in our own Narnia.

THWACK!

A snowball shattered against my arm, and Sam pointed and laughed from several yards away as he formed another one in his hands.

I pointed at him. “Don’t you dare—”

THWACK!

This time, one hit me in my thigh.

“Oh, you’re a dead man, Holt,” I said, crouching down quickly to scoop up some snow. But before I could finish packing it in my palms, he barreled into me, knocking me backward into the cold, pillowy ground.

For a minute, neither of us spoke. We stared upward silently as snow continued to fall until finally, the moment broke and our laughter filled the space between us.

I began moving my arms and legs out and in against the snow. “Snow angels!”

Sam copied my movements and then stood, brushing off the backs of his legs before offering me a hand. I took it and slipped, falling forward against his warm chest as he pulled me to my feet.

“Easy now, Mouse,” he murmured against my beanie as he helped me step around our creations. “Let’s not trample our angels.”

“Can’t have that,” I said, suddenly hyperaware of the fact that he had both of his hands around my waist and I still had both of mine pressed against his chest.

I looked into his eyes and absentmindedly brushed a snowflake off a curl on his forehead poking out of his hat.

He lifted one of his hands off my waist and held it out for me to take, and when I did, he began to lead me around the front yard in circles, humming “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas.”

My best friend was dancing with me. In the snow. To my favorite Christmas song.

Someone pinch me, please, since my hands are accounted for.

“I thought you didn’t dance,” I said.

“Someone’s gotta get you ready for that Mistletoe Mas-querade.” He smiled down at me.

“You’re going to go too, though, right?” I asked, blinking a snowflake out of my eye.

He swallowed hard before he spun me out and pulled me back in.

“That…depends.”

“On what?” My head swirled and twirled more than the snowflakes, making everything from my head to my boots feel fuzzy.

We moved slower now in and out of the warm light from Nona’s lamppost before he spoke again, softly. “If I have the right partner with me.”

Wait.

What was he saying?

Sam stopped dancing and slowly took my hands, pressing them against his chest, where I could feel his heart beating as eagerly as my own.

“I…” He paused and blinked down at me for a moment. “I haven’t been honest with you. About how I felt about the fake dating or the dance—”