' mistletoe. ' /am i. even aloOWED SO RRY
next five people to say ‘mistletoe’ in my askbox get a kiss.
He. Doesn’t have mistletoe in the house. There’s a special reason for that, it being that he isn’t fond of s- urprise contact, including kisses. But she I S S A does something that makes him turn double a- nd s t a r e . Her small frame is hidden beneath a m- istletoe sweater, her large hair gathered around her l- ike sunny SUMMER hills. Isaac’s lips part and his mi- nd works fairytale magic.
( he thinks he’s r e a l smooth. )
He bends over the counter top between them, his bony wrists braced against its DULL surface. Avo- ids the lips, because that’s not something he wa- nts to STEAL from her. Even pressing a gentle, dry ki- ss to her pale CHEEK seems a taint. He pulls away, r- etreating behind the wooden river that parts them.
”Cute sweater,” he says like it’s a crop top and she’s Victoria’s greatest secret. He might laugh if he’d been a little dumber. A little less self-aware. Instead, he smiles like he has unspoken words buried betwee- n his teeth.
