Page 91 of The Mistletoe Makeover

“It’s Christmas, Mia,” Jaz says. “Aren’t you excited about tonight?”

“If there was any way to get out of this, I would.”

Jaz studies me for a second. “Does this have anything to do with Jace?”

I pause, feeling the weight of my secret. “I may have done something stupid.”

She frowns. “How stupid?”

“I admitted to Jace that I’d never been kissed and... asked him to be my first.”

“Wait. You had your first kiss withJace?”

I slowly nod.

Jaz lets out a relieved sigh. “Finally.”

“Finally?” I frown. “You expected this to happen?”

“Like two weeks ago. You really held out on him...”

“I did not hold out. I’m not even sure how Jace feels about it.”

“Are you happy?” Jaz asks, looking at me in the mirror.

“I am,” I murmur, even though there’s this niggling feeling in my stomach warning me to be careful. I know I should tell Jace how I feel when the concert is done. But the thought of admitting my feelings makes me sick. Someone as famous as Jace could never fall for me.

And if he doesn’t feel the same, then what? Is it over between us? It’s so much easier to pretend we’re dating—to live in this dream world—than to face potential rejection.

This feels like the first holiday I could be happy again. But that realization is also incredibly fragile. One mistake and it all could come crashing down.

* * *

By the time I reach the auction downtown, my stomach is in knots. All traffic is stopped, cars barely inching along through a heavily congested three-block stretch.

“I’ve never seen this many people in Maplewood before,” I say in awe. People are everywhere, inside every shop and across the main square.

Hundreds of people, perhaps even thousands, have arrived for the grand opening of the brand-new Maplewood Mistletoe Festival, and the surge of visitors for tonight is overwhelming our tiny town. I stare in wonder at the crowded sidewalks and the smiling faces of the visitors.

“Look at the mistletoe booth.” Jaz points to the pergola on the hill decorated with white lights and evergreen boughs and a sprig of mistletoe tied with a red bow. The line of couples waiting to take a picture is at least thirty-deep.

“It worked,” I marvel. This exceeds even my own expectations. As much as I’ve been dreading this fundraiser, I have to do it for the people of Maplewood.

“Do you see a place to park?” Jaz says. “Because right now, we’re not making it to the auction unless you walk.”

From here, the line of cars is not moving, and the theater is several blocks away.

“Pull over,” I instruct. Jaz wedges into a no-parking zone and I throw open my car door and jump out. I hurry down the sidewalk, dodging pedestrians as I rush toward the old theater.

I glance at the clock on the bank building—I’ll make it with a few minutes to spare.

“There you are!” Mom says as I push my way backstage, still panting from the sprint. “I was beginning to think you bailed on us.”

“Believe me, I wanted to,” I mutter.

Mom puts her hands on my arms. “I’m glad you came. You look incredible.” She cracks open a stage curtain so I can see the audience through a slit. “We have a packed house.”

“I can’t look. I might throw up.” I try to focus on the memory of sneaking in here with Jace and the kiss that followed, but right now, the butterflies in my stomach won’t let me.

---