Grace Jameson made it a point to avoid two things that week; a) people and b) doorways. Unfortunately, in a school of 600+ kids, it's not the easiest task. Instead, she modifies her list to something a little easier. A) Max Nelson and B) Mistletoe. It's a well known fact that it's the week before winter break and that the Christmas spirit in Maddox was far off the charts. It smelled like peppermint, hot chocolate. There were girls in leggings and UGGs with their Starbucks. Boys wrestling in the snow and pelting each other snowballs. There's cold air flowing around, shivering girls, boys sharing their coats, flushed cheeks, cute scarves, and just a feeling of whole.
Then there's the tradition floating around. Apparently, the school is very much into PDA, by the amounts of mistletoe they had hanging around in classroom doorways. Seriously, it's impossible to avoid and she literally has to keep ducked town to avoid any of Max's friends from forcing them under the same mistletoe. [ She loves the kid, but not that much. ] And Grace had made good progress throughout the whole week. With her hair down in long curls, her head partially ducked down, but blue eyes on everything in her path. It was a good method. And she hadn't gotten any unsuspected kisses on her lips. Exactly how she planned it. The bell to the last period of the day rang and Grace took a breath, the soft air blowing at her curls that strayed across her face. She'd just have to get through 8th period and she was done for two weeks. No school stress and a hell lot of more free time to sleep, relax, read, and play music. 8th period went easily, without a bump in a road, without a hitch. And Grace made a bee line towards the exit, books in hand and going straight for her locker. Again, it goes without a hitch and soon enough, she's ready to go. Her head's in a hat, with dark hair falling over her light blue scarf and purple coat. A girl dressed for winter. There was just one more place to go to; the music room. It's because she needs to take her guitar home, so that it doesn't crack due to the cold weather. It's something that the teachers stress on and Grace can only agree. Cracks in guitars are a pain in her ass. The brunette got her guitar, leaving her stuff at the doorway so that she can just pick it up and go. But as she closes her guitar case, she heard a stumbling, followed by a "Shit!". Grace turned around, her face a picture of a confusion, but she stifling a laugh at the scene. A boy, whom had tripped over her stuff. And he looked up, an eyebrow raised up at her, him planted at the bottom of the room's doorway. Grace shook her head, a small laugh coming through her nose. "I am so sorry!" She stood up, walking over and bending down, picking her stuff up and pushing it out of the door way, then standing up and offering him her hand. "Sure you are." It's a few words grumbled under his breath and she looked up, blinking as her eyebrows crinkled. But then he looked down to her, the two making eye contact and his brown hues getting considerably softer. "Sorry." Grace only nodded, a forced smile on her lips as jerked her thumb back. "I'll just get going then." She began to turn around, but paused at the feeling of him gripping her wrist. That only caused her to tilt her head, turning around and her eyes widening at the feeling of being pulled to him. Grace only gave him a look, her eyebrow raising as she shook her head once again. "What do you want?" There's a smirk on his lips and she can only let a pout form on her lips. "I want my kiss." He pointed up and Grace give him a look of destain, a sigh passing through her pink pout, guessing that there's a freaking mistletoe hanging there. { and it's a bit sad because she was so close with getting away with nothing } "I don't even know your name." It's her last attempt at stopping this; because there's a deep blush upon her cheeks, his smirk is getting deeper, and she just realizes that she has a hand on his chest. "I don't have to tell you my name for a kiss under the mistletoe. It's tradition, Blue Eyes." For a moment she hates him and all who he is. But that changes because soon his hand is going behind her neck and pulling him up to him. Their lips touch and it's the most exhilarating thing she has ever felt. Sure, she's been kissed, but it's nothing like this. Like the moment that they touch, she doesn't want to pull away. And neither does he, apparently, because the kiss is just getting deeper and then next thing she knows? She's on her toes, pulling him down to her from his collar because she wants just a little bit more. Then it's done and he's pulling away, not her. But they're still forehead to forehead and lips just brushing over each other. "It's Alfie. I'm Alfie." She nodded, breathless and mouth open, still in shock. She felt him brush hair away from her face. "Grace," she replied slowly, eyes looking up at him. "Nice to meet you, Alfie." He nodded too, the smirk returning. "Well, Grace; this was a hell of a first meeting."
