Mistletoe Mishap

Chapter 8: Cupcake Catastrophe

After surviving the gift-wrapping disaster, I thought a quick stop at the campus holiday bake sale would be safe. A quiet snack, maybe a cupcake or two, and then back to hiding in my dorm. Simple. Easy. Invisible. My specialty.

Ha. Ha. Ha.

Of course, nothing about my life goes as planned.

The gym smelled like cinnamon, chocolate, and peppermint. Tiny cupcakes with perfectly piped frosting sparkled under strings of fairy lights. I gripped a tray with both hands, balancing my coffee in one arm and my bag strap in the other, hoping the universe would leave me alone. My red hat perched on my head, green sprig smugly attached—still completely oblivious to the chaos it promised.

Ivy, disaster magnet, reporting for duty.

I took a careful step forward. The tray wobbled. My coffee sloshed. Someone bumped my elbow. “Oh!” I gasped, juggling cupcakes like a circus performer. One teetered dangerously, frosting sliding toward the edge.

Laughter erupted nearby. A group of students were pointing, phones raised. Whispered comments reached me: “She’s gonna drop them all!” and “Look at her little hat!” My cheeks flamed hotter than the spiced cider on the table.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got it!” I said to no one in particular, because who was I kidding? I didn’t have it.

A younger student leaned over for a chocolate cupcake. My elbow caught her arm, and frosting flicked onto her sleeve. “Oh no! I’m so sorry!” I stammered, trying to dab it with a napkin—but the napkin stuck to the frosting instead.

She laughed, waving it off, but my stomach twisted. Invisible Ivy was officially over. This Ivy? She was the disaster everyone had been waiting for.

“Careful there!” someone called from the end of the table. Their voice was cheerful, but I couldn’t help thinking they were enjoying this far too much.

I wobbled again. A tray of peppermint brownies slid sideways. I lunged to stop it and—smack—hit another student’s shoulder. The brownies teetered, threatening to fall.

Jasper was nearby, leaning casually against a table, notebook in hand. He didn’t swoop in like a superhero. Instead, he shifted his stance just enough to block the tray from sliding off the edge, giving me a tiny buffer. Then he casually scribbled a note, smirk plastered across his face, watching me flail.

I blinked, unsure if I should thank him or collapse. “Uh… thanks,” I squeaked.

He smirked. “You’re welcome. Mostly.”

I took a deep breath, trying to regain some composure. Students were still giggling, some whispering into phones, a few offering sarcastic “Nice work!” applause. Even the cafeteria staff had their hands on their hips, shaking their heads at my disaster streak.

I grabbed another cupcake, cautiously balancing it. One student whispered, “Do you always cause chaos like this?”

“Always,” I admitted under my breath, wishing fervently that I could vanish right then and there.

Another student reached to “help” by holding a napkin, but I knocked it off. Then my elbow caught a stray candy cane jar. It teetered—just a little—but I managed to steady it myself this time, though I could feel Jasper’s eyes on me. His smirk widened slightly as he made a small, approving nod.

Ivy, invisible? Ha. Never.

Eventually, I made it to a corner of the table, clutching two cupcakes that had survived the chaos. I plopped down on a chair, trying to look calm while my hat lopsided slightly, pom-pom swinging. Jasper scribbled a last note, looked up briefly, and smirked again. That look—like he had seen every wobble and spill—made my stomach flip.

No words. No kisses. No hints. Just him, and me, and the chaos, and my ridiculous hat.

And somehow… somehow, I didn’t want the day to end.