Mistletoe Mishap

I didn’t plan on being the center of campus attention today. Really. I just wanted to get from the library to my dorm without spilling coffee on my textbooks or tripping over my own two feet. Apparently, the universe had other plans. I tugged my new festive hat down over my ears—soft, red, ridiculously cheerful—completely unaware that something green had somehow lodged itself in the top. Not a clue. Not even a hint. Of course, part of the problem was me. I’m Ivy: five-foot-two, dark hair in pig tails, thick-rimmed glasses that make me look smarter than I am, and pretty enough if someone actually bothered to look—but mostly invisible behind my lenses. I like it that way. Blending into the background is my specialty. Standing out, on the other hand… not so much. And yet, here I was, about to become the exact opposite of invisible. The first kiss came completely out of nowhere. One second I was fumbling with my coffee cup, balancing three textbooks and a bag strap that had a mind of its own. The next, smack—my lips collided with someone else’s. I yelped and froze, heart hammering, while my coffee threatened to spill and my textbooks wobbled dangerously. My hat—green twig and all—tilted awkwardly on my head. I yanked backward and blinked at the student standing in front of me. Wide eyes and a smirk that made my stomach twist. What just happened? My brain short-circuited. Was that… a kiss? Did I… did I just get kissed? The laughter of students snapped me out of my dizzy shock. Phones were raised. Fingers pointing. Whispers filled the air. Everyone saw it. Everyone. My cheeks flamed hotter than Santa’s sleigh on Christmas Eve. I clutched my chest as if I could stop my heart from racing out of control. “Uh… I—” I started, but my words tangled themselves into knots. My body, normally so coordinated when unnoticed, betrayed me completely. My textbooks wobbled. My coffee sloshed. My bag strap slipped. Someone behind me giggled. “She’s got something on her hat!” Something? On my hat? I nervously adjusted the pom-pom, tugging the hat down a little to make sure it sat straight. Completely oblivious, I had no idea that a tiny sprig of mistletoe was perched on top, silently plotting chaos. Across the quad, someone scribbled in a notebook, barely hiding a smirk. He was just… watching. Tall, dark-haired, with an amused expression that made me want to hide under my textbooks. Why is he looking at me like that? I straightened my bag strap and attempted a small, polite smile, which probably looked more like a grimace. My pig tails swung wildly as I shuffled forward, trying to look calm and collected. Spoiler alert: I did not. My shoes caught on a cobblestone. I stumbled slightly. I barely saved myself from a full fall. My textbooks leaned dangerously to one side. My coffee teetered in its cup. I muttered under my breath, “Smooth, Ivy. Very smooth.” Snowflakes drifted lazily down, landing on my shoulders and sliding off. I tried to pretend I was graceful. I was not. Every student in sight seemed to be watching my personal disaster play out in real time. My festive hat, my messy pig tails, my thick-rimmed glasses—they were all working together to make me look like a cartoon character. And I couldn’t stop glancing at the tall, dark-haired observer scribbling furiously in his notebook. My first kiss had just happened with a complete stranger, but my brain refused to let me ignore him. There was something about the way he watched—the slight tilt of his head, that subtle smirk—that made my stomach flip again. From the way he scribbled in his notebook, I assumed he was writing notes about me. About my apparent incompetence, my fashion sense, or maybe… me. No. Definitely not me. I tugged at my glasses to see him better. Yep, still scribbling, still smirking. Probably enjoying every second of my disaster. Of course he is. I absentmindedly adjusted my hat again, still completely unaware of the green culprit on top. “Careful there!” someone called, though it sounded more like a polite warning than actual help. More laughter rippled through the crowd. I tried a small, awkward wave, hoping to appear friendly instead of catastrophic. My heart was still hammering. I shuffled forward, trying to act normal, thinking maybe if I walked fast enough and looked calm enough, people would just… forget me. Forget the kiss. Forget the chaos. Forget me entirely. And yet, every glance in my direction felt like it was magnified, amplified, replayed. I straightened my bag strap, picked up a fallen textbook, and tried to take a deep breath. This is fine. Totally fine. I am not dying of embarrassment. I am… okay. Mostly. And that’s how it started. One innocent hat, one completely oblivious girl, and one tall, dark-haired observer who seemed determined to watch the chaos unfold. My first accidental kiss. My first campus catastrophe. And I had no idea just how many more were coming.