Now I believe in Christmas magic

Chapter 1: The Mistletoe Magic I lean against the cold wall of the ballroom, clutching my glass of champagne as I watch everyone else glide across the dance floor. The music swirls around me — soft, festive, and annoyingly cheerful. I can barely keep a straight face. It’s Christmas Eve, and here I am, alone. Again. Everyone else got their dancing partner already. Winfred, the ever-cool lawyer from my internship, is twirling around with Emily from marketing. They look perfect together. Too perfect. Her blonde hair bounces in the lights, and she laughs at something Winfred says. I can tell it’s fake, but I’m the only one who notices. Then there’s Rancel, the former hockey player turned sports therapist. He's smiling as he leads his partner, Samantha, across the floor. She’s laughing, all too delighted by his charm. I have to admit, Rancel does have a way with people. His grin is infectious, his eyes warm and kind. But I don’t care. I told myself I didn’t care. This holiday is just another reminder that love is an illusion — a trap. It always ends in heartbreak. I sip my drink, wondering what the hell I’m doing here. I was invited by my best friend, Nicole, but I’m starting to regret it. The last thing I need right now is to watch everyone else bask in their happily-ever-after while I stand in the corner, a forgotten wallflower. “Hey, you,” a voice interrupts my thoughts, deep and teasing. “You look like you're about to stage a protest against the Christmas cheer.” I turn to find Tron leaning casually against the wall beside me, his arms crossed, wearing his usual cocky grin. He’s dressed in black, as usual, with his leather jacket that’s seen better days. His messy dark hair falls over his forehead, and his gray eyes glint mischievously. “What’s your excuse?” I ask, raising an eyebrow. “Are you going to start chanting too?” Tron laughs, a low, rumbling sound that’s almost like a growl. “Nah, I’m just here for the free booze. You’re the one who looks like you're contemplating a rebellion.” “I’m just trying to survive this torture,” I mutter, glancing over at Winfred and Rancel again. “I guess I’m the only one who didn’t find a partner before the party started.” Tron shifts slightly, his eyes narrowing. “You’re telling me no one asked you to dance?” He sounds genuinely surprised. I’m not sure if I should be flattered or embarrassed. “Nope,” I say, leaning back against the wall. “Apparently, I’m not as easy to read as I thought.” “You’re the type who doesn’t give anything away,” he says thoughtfully, his gaze fixed on me. “That’s why people are intimidated.” I shrug, half-expecting him to walk away. Tron’s never been one to stick around for long. But he surprises me when he stays, his eyes scanning the crowd. “I’m surprised no one’s taken you up on a dance. You’re not exactly hard on the eyes, you know.” I snort, half-laughing. “Flattery isn’t going to work on me, Tron. You know that.” He grins again, but there’s something different about it this time. His expression softens for a second, as if he’s trying to figure me out. “I didn’t think it would.” I feel the weight of his gaze, and for a split second, something shifts in the air between us. But just as quickly, he snaps back to his usual confident self, shrugging off the moment. “Besides,” he continues, his voice louder and more casual now, “maybe you don’t need anyone else. I mean, look at me. I’m fine on my own.” He lets out a dramatic sigh, his hand on his chest. I roll my eyes. “Please. If anyone here is good at being alone, it’s me.” Tron chuckles. “Fair enough. But you know, if you really wanted a dance partner, you could always ask me.” I look at him, incredulous. “Are you serious?” “Dead serious,” he says with a wink. “I’m not too bad. I promise.” I laugh again, this time more out of disbelief than anything else. Tron, the guy who rides motorcycles, fixes cars, and doesn’t care about a thing in the world, is offering to dance? The thought alone is absurd. “I don’t think the world is ready for that, Tron,” I say, shaking my head. He shrugs, unfazed. “Maybe not, but I’ll be here if you change your mind.” Before I can respond, there’s a sudden shout from the other side of the room. “Mistletoe!” someone yells, and I hear laughter erupt from the crowd. Everyone in the ballroom turns toward the giant mistletoe hanging above the entrance. I groan inwardly. This is exactly the kind of cheesy holiday thing I hate. “Looks like you're in luck,” Tron says, nudging me with his elbow. “I’m pretty sure I see a chance for us to be festive.” “Not in a million years,” I mutter under my breath. But I’m already feeling the familiar pressure of being the only one without a partner. Everyone is moving toward the mistletoe, eager for that holiday kiss. I try to ignore the growing sense of discomfort settling in my chest, but it’s hard. My ex, Evan, is probably somewhere in the crowd, too. I’m sure he’s already locked lips with his new girlfriend, who probably looks like a Christmas angel. It’s just another reminder that I was never good enough. That I wasn’t meant for love. As I turn away to leave, I feel a hand on my wrist. “Not running off already, are you?” Tron asks, his voice low and teasing. There’s something in his tone that makes me stop. I glance back at him, and this time, I can see something different in his eyes — something more intense. “Tron, I’m not really in the mood for this,” I say, shaking my head. He smirks, the mischievous glint never leaving his eyes. “Well, I am.” Before I can protest, he tugs me toward the mistletoe, his grip firm but not unkind. I don’t even have a chance to think before I’m standing directly beneath it, the crowd around us cheering and laughing. People start whispering, their eyes on us. I’m about to say something — to argue, to push away — but then, out of nowhere, Tron leans in. His lips brush mine, warm and surprising. It’s quick, almost like he’s daring me to pull away. I feel my heart race, my breath catch in my throat. But when I don’t pull away, he deepens the kiss, just enough to make it more than just a playful gesture. The room falls silent for a moment. I pull back, my mind spinning. “What the hell was that?” I demand, my voice shaky. Tron’s grin is unrepentant, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “Just giving you a little holiday cheer,” he says, winking again. “Don’t worry. I won’t tell anyone.” Before I can form a response, I hear someone else clear their throat. “Is everything alright here?” It’s Winfred, standing just behind us, his lips tight in a barely-contained smile. I catch the faint hint of something in his eyes — a flicker of something like jealousy, but it disappears too quickly for me to be sure. Tron steps back, but his gaze never leaves me. “Yeah, we’re fine,” he says, raising an eyebrow at Winfred. “Just a little Christmas fun.” Winfred's expression hardens for a moment, his gaze flicking between me and Tron. “Well, I’m glad to see you’re enjoying yourself,” he says, his voice colder than before. “I’ll leave you two to it.” With that, he turns and walks away, leaving a trail of tension in his wake. I stand there, speechless, my mind racing. What the hell just happened?