Part 2: Mistletoe Magic? A Holiday Romance Story
An intriguing stranger. An old flame. See what happens as this holiday romance heats up!
Read Part 1 of Mistletoe Magic? if you haven’t yet!
Sierra
So now to amuse myself in a room full of strangers…
I feel a little awkward. Small talk has never been my strength. What am I supposed to say?
So…it’s a cold one out there? Ugh! No. So…how’s that Santa Stout taste? That’s weird. It would be so much easier if I could talk about something real! What are your hopes? Your fears? How did you get over…
“We meet again!” Dimples is back at the bar.
I smile. “We do!”
Come on, Sierra! Say something creative. “So, who are you here with and why do you keep getting stuck with the tab?!” I muster with a smile. Good enough line for the girl out of practice with both flirting and dating.
“My buddies over there,” he says, pointing his bottle of beer toward the other side of the room. “And you’re right! I should send one of them over. Cheapskates!”
He takes a swig of beer. “But then, I’d miss my chance to chat with you.” He winks in my direction.
I melt! I hold it together enough to softly eke out,”You’re too kind.”
Just then, the bartender turns up the music, so Dimples has to lean in closer to my ear and ask, “So, what’s your name? And what do you want to drink?”
“Sierra!” I shout back. “And I’ll have a mistletoe margarita. Thank you…”
“Simon,” he replies and then turns toward the crowded bar to order our drinks.
I quickly open my phone to text Belinda.
Girl! I just met…Before I can finish the text, Simon returns.
“One mistletoe margarita for the stunning Sierra,” he states as he hands me the drink. His fingers brush against mine. My heart pulsates.
“Thank you,” I manage to say, “And cheers!” I clink my glass against his.
“Cheers!” He maintains eye contact as he takes a sip of his beer. I feel my cheeks flush, but he doesn’t seem to notice the hint of red on my warm brown skin.
I assume he is heading back to his friends after the toast, but I notice he doesn’t have any other drinks. Is he really over here just to talk to…me?
“So Sierra, what are you doing here all alone?”
“Great question!” I start. “So did you know there are two Barrels and Brews?”
“Oh…”
“Yeah, so my best friend went to that location…and now I’m waiting for her to arrive.”
“That might be a while! It’s crazy out there! Is this your first SantaCon?”
“Definitely!” I say abruptly. “I’m not big on Christmas or costumes, but it makes my best friend happy, so here I am!”
“Well, you’re a good friend. And you did great with your costume.”
“This old thing?” I kid, softening in his presence. “Is this your first rodeo?”
“Nah! The guys and I have been doing this for years. But I might be about ready to hang up this hat,” he says, pulling on the Santa cap.
“And why is that?”
“Gets a little repetitive. I’m ready for a more chill vibe. Some food, drinks, and games…at home.”
“Same! I mean, maybe a red sweater or something but I don’t need all of this!” I wave my hand down my body implying that this entire look is just too much.
“Wait…did I hear you say you don’t like Christmas?!”
I freeze. Talking and flirting with this handsome stranger is going so well! And as much as I despise small talk and prefer to go deep, I don’t want to ruin this moment with that story.
“You did…” I reply.
I rack my brain for something to say without showing all my cards. Especially as I hear the sounds of George Michael crooning Last Christmas.
“Too commercial.” I finally blurt out. “I mean, have you seen those folks fighting over TVs on Black Friday?! And don’t get me started on how they are opening the stores on Thursday night now. And those workers have to leave their families early. It’s disgusting!” My response is as spicy as this margarita.
“I hear you,” he agrees. “That isn’t my favorite part of it either. But for me, there’s something about the tradition of it all.”
The conversation pivots and before I know it, we’ve swapped stories about friends, travel, and moving to New York. I can feel myself falling, but know I need to stay grounded. This might just be a fleeting moment. And then, the moment is interrupted.
“We’re heading to McSorley’s!” a tall Santa shouts in our direction at Simon.
No! He’s leaving.
“I’ll meet you there!” Simon shouts back, and then turns his attention to me.
“So Sierra, it seems like I’m being summoned.”
“So it seems.”
“You mind?” he asks, as he pulls the sprig of rosemary out of my empty margarita. I shake my head no, curious about what’s happening. He shakes the liquid off and then holds it above his head.
“Mistletoe?…” I whisper as a smile creeps across my face.
“Mistletoe,” he replies, eyebrows raised and eyes wide, asking the question I’d been longing for him to ask. I nod.
Belinda
Joseph’s words knock the wind out of me, along with a gust blowing in from the east. He waits for my response, a slow smile spreading across his face because, for the first time, I’m speechless.
“Cat got your tongue?” he whispers, his lips inches from mine.
“Meeeow!”
Joseph and I turn toward the drunken Santa facing us, totally stealing our moment and pretending to be a cat. When Santa begins licking his pretend paws, we burst into laughter.
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“Well, that’s one way to break the tension,” I giggle, snuggling closer to Joseph.
“I swear I didn’t put him up to it,” he chuckles.
Santa Cat gets distracted and wanders away, meowing toward the bar. Which reminds me, I have to get to Sierra.
“Listen,” I say matter-of-factly, remembering I’m a bad bitch Joseph broke up with because he couldn’t see himself moving permanently to NYC—not even for me.
“Uh oh,” he whispers, recognizing my tone and losing some of his bravado.
“I have to meet Sierra. She’s probably sitting miserably in a corner surrounded by drunks and holiday music. It’s literally her nightmare. Her personal hell on Earth. So I can’t entertain this,” I wave my hands around his face, “right now.”
I spit it out quickly; otherwise, I’ll lose my nerve, forget my pride, and suck his face off right here in the middle of Times Square. God, I miss his succulent lips.
“Let’s go then.” Joseph grabs my hand, keeps me close, and leads the way. His broad shoulders move through the crowd, which parts for us like he’s Moses walking on water. My heart surges as we walk hand-in-hand, his words finally sinking in: he’s here for me.
