Mistletoe Mishap

Chapter 3: Hat Persistence

The next morning, I did something shocking: I wore the hat again.

I know. After yesterday, most people would’ve sworn off festive headwear for the rest of their lives. But not me. I’m Ivy. I’m committed. To school. To the holiday spirit. And apparently, to… chaos.

The moment I stepped onto campus, I could feel it. Eyes. Whispers. A few stifled giggles. My hat, perched proudly on my head with pom-pom bobbing, seemed to announce: Here she comes. Watch closely.

“Uh… Merry Christmas, Ivy!” A voice rang out before I even got past the quad. And then—smack!—a quick peck on my cheek.

I yelped, stumbling slightly over my bag strap, and muttered, “Uh… thanks?” My face flamed like Rudolph’s nose.

Already? My brain short-circuited. Is this a… trend now?

I tried to make a break for the library, but the hallways were worse than a snowstorm. Every corner seemed to harbor a student plotting “festive mischief.” One leaned over with a teasing grin—another peck. I spun around, heart hammering, bumping into a bulletin board decorated with fake holly. A few leaves stuck in my hair. Great. Just… great.

Books teetered in my arms. Coffee sloshed dangerously in its cup. My glasses fogged up from the cold air. I tugged at them frantically, hoping to regain some semblance of dignity. Spoiler alert: dignity left the building yesterday.

Across the hall, a group of students whispered something and pointed at my hat. One even tried to balance a pen on the pom-pom. I froze mid-step, squinting at the chaos like I could understand it. My textbooks nearly fell. My bag strap slipped. I muttered under my breath, “Perfect. Absolutely perfect.”

And then I saw him. Tall, dark-haired, notebook open, smirk firmly in place—Jasper.

He didn’t move to help. He didn’t laugh outright. He just… watched. And that made my stomach do the weird twisty thing again. Why does he have to look at me like that?

I tried to sneak past him, but fate—or the universe—had other plans. A backpack strap snagged my elbow, sending my coffee sloshing dangerously, and a stray snowball hit the edge of my bag, tumbling a textbook.

“Whoa!” I yelped, juggling my things. Somehow, I managed not to drop everything completely. Barely.

Jasper scribbled something in his notebook, smirk widening. My brain short-circuited again. He’s enjoying this. He’s definitely enjoying this.

I made it to my next class with a miraculous combination of luck and clumsiness, hoping the day would calm down. Nope. Not a chance.

During the lesson, someone tapped my shoulder—a casual, “Merry Christmas” moment—and pressed another quick kiss to my cheek. I froze mid-breath, blinking at them. What is happening? My textbooks threatened to slide off my lap. My bag strap slipped again. My hat remained perfectly perched, pom-pom bouncing, innocent as ever.

By lunch, I was a walking disaster. I tried to sit quietly with my tray, hoping for invisibility. Not happening. Every student seemed to know I was the center of some festive “experiment.” A tray nudged mine, another peck to the cheek, someone laughed so hard their drink nearly spilled.

“Careful, Ivy!” came a warning that sounded suspiciously like amusement. I waved weakly, trying to appear friendly instead of catastrophic. My heart hammered. My face burned. My pig tails were swinging like pendulums.

Across the cafeteria, Jasper observed from his table. Notebook open. Pen scribbling quickly. Smirk still in place. Every now and then, his gaze flicked to me. He didn’t intervene. He didn’t even offer a word. Just smirked. The butterflies in my stomach spun like a snow globe in a hurricane.

After lunch, I decided walking to my last class was safer than running through the crowded hallways. Mistake. A student barreled past me, shoulder-first, and—smack!—another accidental kiss, this one so brief it barely registered… except my face screamed in protest.

Books threatened mutiny. Coffee sloshed. Glasses fogged. Hat bounced. Pom-pom danced like a tiny mischievous elf.

And there, watching from the far side of the hallway, Jasper raised an eyebrow, pen paused mid-scribble. I could feel the silent smirk even from twenty feet away. Why does he have to be so calm about this?

Class ended in a blur. I practically sprinted to the quad, dodging snowball-wielding students and more “holiday cheer” in the form of pecks on the cheek. I tripped over a small patch of ice, my bag strap snagging on my arm, nearly flipping my textbooks into a snowbank.

Jasper followed at a distance, clearly enjoying the spectacle. He didn’t help. He didn’t laugh. He just… observed. And that made my embarrassment spiral further.

By the time I reached my dorm, I was completely frazzled. Hair messy, glasses foggy, coffee cup sloshed, cheeks burning, textbooks leaning dangerously—but still wearing the hat. Proudly.

Yes, proudly. I was committed. To school. To the holiday spirit. To… surviving the chaos one flustered step at a time.

And the pom-pom bounced innocently, still perched above a tiny sprig of mistletoe, utterly unaware of the chaos it was causing.

Tomorrow? I had a feeling it would bring more kisses, more laughter, and maybe—just maybe—a little less dignity. But somehow, I doubted it.