I was eleven years old when I first discovered the power of the mistletoe.
It was a day I would never forget.
I was sitting beside the Christmas tree, watching as our family and friends came through the front door. There was an odd little ball of green and red ribbon hanging from the ceiling, and every time a couple stepped under it, the guy would kiss the girl. Sometimes, it was just a little peck, while others were deep and passionate.
I spent the better part of the night watching the different couples sharing a magical moment together, and I found myself wondering what it would be like to be kissed like that. And just as that thought crossed my mind, Thomas walked into the kitchen. He was several years older than me and always treated me as such, but that didn’t stop me from thinking that he was my one and only.
If there was anyone I wanted to kiss under the mistletoe, it was him.
The wheels started turning in my head, and before I knew it, I was standing under the mistletoe. My hands were fisted by my side, and I was practically giddy as I stood there waiting for him to notice me. My heart was pounding so hard I was positive everyone around me could hear it.
When Thomas finally spotted me, his lips curled into a smile, and I just knew my dream was about to come true. I just knew it. Every nerve in my body hummed as he started towards me.
I ran my tongue over my lips, preparing for the big moment, and just as I was about to pop with excitement, I felt something brush up against my arm. I glanced up and found Casey standing next to me, and my heart sank. I quickly looked back at Thomas, and he was still coming in our direction.
I was tempted to shove Casey out of the way, but it was too late.
He was already standing right in front of her.
A knot formed in my throat as I watched him lean down and kiss her on the cheek. She laughed, and the sound echoed around me, making the knot in my throat even tighter. I might’ve just been a silly kid, but I knew it just wasn’t a kiss under the mistletoe.
He’d chosen her—just like he’d always done.
Disappointment sank its teeth in deep, but I refused to let the hurt show. I simply stepped away, blending back into the crowd, and pretended that the mistletoe had never meant anything.
But it did.
And it always would.