Chapter 2
1332 Words
Ivy’s POV
My brain stops.
One second, I’m breathing cold December air, and the next, Hero Cross’s lips are on mine. His touch isn’t harsh or demanding, but it’s not gentle either. It’s steady, firm, like he’s claiming this moment as his. For a split second, I forget where I am. My heart does this wild, stupid flip in my chest.
I should pull away. I need to pull away.
But I don’t.
Instead, I’m frozen — not because I’m scared, but because I’m shocked. Who just kisses someone like this?
Finally, my body remembers how to move. I push against his chest, and he pulls back immediately, his eyes watching mine like he’s waiting for me to react. His gaze is calm, steady, and maddeningly unreadable. I blink up at him, lips tingling from the warmth of his kiss.
“What was that?” I snap, wiping my mouth like it’ll somehow erase what just happened.
Hero doesn’t flinch. He tilts his head slightly, eyes sharp as ever. “It’s called a kiss, Ivy.” His voice is too calm, too collected, like he just gave me a weather report.
“Oh, really?” I glare, heat rising to my cheeks. “Did you think I forgot what one felt like?”
Jared bursts out laughing behind him, his voice rich with amusement. “Technically, it’s a mistletoe kiss. And technically, you’re supposed to kiss all the people under it.” He gestures upward like this whole thing is a joke. His grin is wicked, and his eyes are practically daring me to argue.
I take a step back, still trying to process what just happened. “You’re insane.” I point a finger at Hero, then Jared. “Both of you.”
“Don’t look at me,” Jared says, raising his hands in mock innocence. “I haven’t had my turn yet.”
“Your turn?” My voice pitches higher, eyes darting between the two of them.
"Tradition, Harper," Asher says, stepping forward at last. His voice is quiet but firm, each word sharp like the crackle of a fire. "You know how it works."
He’s closer now, closer than he needs to be. I’m forced to look up at him. Asher has always had this way of taking up space — not just physically, but completely. He’s not like Hero, quiet and thoughtful, or like Jared, playful and bold. No, Asher’s the kind of guy who could walk into a room and silence it without saying a word.
“Not interested,” I mutter, crossing my arms over my chest.
He raises an eyebrow. Not a full one. Just a slow, controlled lift. “Lying doesn’t suit you, Harper.”
“Excuse me?”
“You’re interested,” he says, eyes never leaving mine. “You just don’t know what to do about it.”
I open my mouth to fire back, but no words come out. My mind is racing, flipping between run, fight, and scream. Asher sees it. Of course, he does. His lips tug into something that’s not quite a smile.
“Relax,” he says softly, leaning in just a little. His eyes are on me, unblinking, watching every breath I take. “We’re just having fun.”
“Yeah,” Jared chimes in, stepping beside him. “Lighten up, Ivy. It’s Christmas. Don’t be such a Grinch.”
“Don’t call me that,” I snap, taking another step back. My heart is thundering too fast. Too loud. “I don’t know what your deal is, but I’m not some plaything for you three to mess with.”
“Mess with?” Jared’s grin falls. His eyes narrow just a bit. “Who said we’re messing with you?”
“You kissed me without asking,” I point out, glaring at Hero. “That’s a pretty solid start.”
Hero doesn’t blink. Doesn’t even look guilty. “You didn’t seem to mind.”
Heat floods my face, anger and something else mixing in a way I do not like. “You don’t get to decide that.”
There’s a pause. A small, quiet, dangerous pause. For a moment, none of them speak. Asher’s eyes flick to Jared. Jared glances at Hero. Then, as if they’re all in on the same unspoken plan, they shift their attention back to me.
“You’re right,” Asher says quietly, his voice steady like the calm before a storm. “That was out of line.”
Wait, what?
I stare at him, thrown off by the sudden seriousness in his tone.
“But,” he continues, his gaze steady as ever, “don’t mistake it for a game.”
A sharp breath leaves me, and I can’t tell if it’s because of the cold or the weight of his words. Don’t mistake it for a game. What does that even mean?
“I’m done here,” I mutter, turning on my heel. My boots crunch against the light snow on the balcony floor. I head for the ballroom doors, my heart still beating too fast. Don’t look back. Don’t look back.
“Ivy,” Jared calls out. His voice isn’t playful anymore. It’s lower, quieter, serious in a way that makes me pause for just a second.
I don’t turn around. I can’t.
“You’ll see,” he says, and I hear the grin in his voice even if I’m not looking at him. “You’ll come back.”
I push the doors open and step inside, letting the warmth of the party wash over me. The music is louder, the air thick with laughter and conversation. I don’t slow down. I head straight for the refreshment table where Lila’s waiting, already watching me like she knows something happened.
“What was that?” she asks, eyes darting from me to the balcony. “You look like you just saw a ghost.”
“Worse,” I mutter, snatching up a cup of cider. “Three of them.”
Her eyes widen. “The Cross brothers?”
“Yep.” I down the cider in one go. It doesn’t help.
“What did they do?” Lila leans in like she’s ready to throw hands. Lila never fights, but for me, she might.
I hesitate. How do I even explain it? Oh, nothing, just three billionaire football stars deciding I’m their next target.
“They’re being… weird,” I say finally.
Lila snorts. “Weird? Girl, they’re always weird.”
“Yeah, well, this is different.” I rub at my temples, trying to push away the memory of Hero’s kiss, Jared’s grin, and Asher’s stare. But it’s no use. They’re still there, pressed into my brain like someone carved them in stone.
“Different how?” Lila presses.
“Like they’re—” I stop, glancing around. People are watching. Not everyone, but enough. Marcus and Destiny are near the dance floor, laughing like their lives are perfect. My chest tightens. No. I won’t be seen like this.
“Never mind,” I mutter. “I’m fine.”
Lila’s eyes narrow. “No, you’re not.”
“Drop it, Lila,” I snap, sharper than I mean to. Her eyes widen just a little. Guilt hits me immediately, but I don’t apologize. I can’t. Not right now.
I glance back at the balcony doors, half-expecting them to walk in after me. But they don’t.
Of course, they don’t.
They don’t chase people. People chase them.
But Jared’s words echo in my head. “You’ll come back.”
I shake my head and walk toward the far side of the ballroom, away from the dance floor, away from everyone. My hands are still cold. No. Not cold. Tingling.
Like someone’s touch hasn’t quite left me.
“Don’t be stupid, Ivy,” I mutter under my breath. But the tingling doesn’t stop.
And for some reason, I can still feel Hero’s eyes on me. Steady. Quiet. Unshakable.
- Writer
