Mistletoe Mishap

Chapter 6: Mistletoe Madness

I spent the weekend holed up in my dorm, avoiding anyone who might remember me… or my hat. Between cramming holiday assignments and binge-watching old Christmas movies, I convinced myself that Monday could be just another ordinary day. Just me, my books, and my ridiculous festive hat.

Little did I know, the universe had other plans.

Trudging across the quad, pom-pom bobbing, green sprig still smugly perched, I tried to convince myself I was invisible. Totally ordinary. Totally forgettable. Ha.

“Good morning, chaos,” a voice drawled beside me.

I nearly jumped out of my skin. Jasper. Leaning casually against a lamp post, notebook tucked under one arm, smirk already in place. Like he’d been waiting for me all weekend.

“Uh… good morning?” I squeaked, glancing down at my bobbing pom-pom.

“Lovely hat,” he said, tilting his head. “Very… festive. Bold choice.”

I tried a polite smile. It came out more like a grimace. “Thanks… I think?”

He smirked. “I think you might be the only person capable of surviving the week without at least one catastrophic encounter per day.”

Oh great.

By mid-morning, chaos had established itself. First, someone accidentally launched a snowball from the ice rink toward me. I ducked, tripped on a fake holly wreath someone had carelessly left on the ground, and spun into the path of a student with a tray of cookies. Cookies flew. Glitter dusted my hair from a passing group’s craft project. A rogue ornament rolled under my feet, nearly sending me sprawling onto a display of holiday mugs.

And through all of it… Jasper was there. Always watching, always smirking. Scribbling something quickly in his notebook, then glancing up just in time to see me dodge a particularly aggressive snowball.

“You’re like a walking snowstorm,” he said, voice low enough that only I could hear. “Except… cuter.”

My face heated. My brain short-circuited. Did he just…? No. He didn’t. And yet.

Lunch didn’t offer any respite. The cafeteria had been transformed into a winter wonderland too—tinsel dangling from the ceiling, a fake sleigh in the corner, and students still eager to see me fail spectacularly. I tried to sit at a quiet corner table. Ha. Hilarious.

Someone bumped into me on the way to my tray. Smack! Another accidental kiss. I froze, blinking at my hat. Nothing. Green sprig still perfectly smug.

Jasper appeared beside me like some darkly amused holiday guardian. “Careful there,” he said. “Wouldn’t want your… charm to get out of control.”

“Uh… thanks?” I muttered.

He scribbled again, smirk never leaving his face. “So… do you plan on keeping the hat on all week, or is this just a temporary disaster magnet?”

I shrugged, trying not to fidget. “I… I like it. Festive.”

“Bold choice,” he said. “Bold and… dangerously attractive.”

I choked on my napkin. Dangerously attractive? Me? No. Stop. Just stop.

The real chaos came after lunch, when the student council decided it would be fun to hold a “Holiday Obstacle Course” in the quad. I had hoped to slip by unnoticed. Instead, my hat put me on the starting line like a target.

The first obstacle was a snowball toss. I tried to dodge gracefully, but instead I tripped over a candy cane pole. Pom-pom bounced wildly. Green sprig smugly in place. I ended up tumbling forward into the path of a student carrying a tray of hot chocolate. Chocolate went everywhere. I ended up sticky, glittering, and covered in marshmallows.

Jasper leaned against the fence, notebook tucked under his arm. “Impressive form,” he said, smirk firmly in place. “I’d grade it an A… for entertainment value.”

I blinked at him, heart hammering, cheeks flaming. “Uh… thanks?”

The next obstacle involved a small “ice” bridge—really just a slick, plastic sheet—and naturally, I slipped halfway across. Students laughed, some cheered. One tried to catch me and… smack! Another accidental kiss.

By now, I had lost track of how many kisses I’d accidentally collected. My hat had survived every encounter, pom-pom still bouncing, green sprig still perfectly perched. Somehow, the one person who hadn’t kissed me yet—Jasper—was watching, smirking, scribbling, and clearly enjoying the show.

When I finally reached the end of the obstacle course, breathing hard, sticky, glittering, and still somehow standing, Jasper walked up beside me. Close enough that I could see the smirk tugging at his lips.

“You know,” he said, voice low, “I think the hat has officially turned you into a holiday legend.”

I blinked at him, too flustered to respond. Legend? Me? I didn’t even know how to survive lunch without tripping.

He scribbled something in his notebook again, then smirked. “Don’t worry. I’ll be here to… observe.”

Pom-pom bounced. Green sprig remained smug. I had no idea what was coming next, but I had a feeling it was going to be worse. And funnier. And somehow… involving Jasper.