Chapter 5
Chapter Five
AVA
The town hall smells like butter and cinnamon and a little bit of chaos.
Long folding tables line the room, each one dusted with flour and strewn with mixing bowls.
Someone’s strung cranberries around the rafters, and there’s a chalkboard scoreboard near the stage: Mistletoe Match Standings.
Our names—Ava our names are at the top with a festive star doodled beside them.
“Not that you care about points,” Liam says, sidling up to me as the room dissolves back into chatter.
“Obviously not,” I say, very dignified, while my heart tap-dances.
“Obviously,” he echoes, amused.
The event winds down. We box a few cookies for later (Liam insists on quality control while I pretend not to notice he chooses the ones with the most glaze) and head for the doors.
The afternoon’s turned gold, light slanting low across packed snow.
People spill out into the square, stringing popcorn on a long garland that will wrap the big spruce by the gazebo.
“Tree lighting’s at six,” he says, nudging me with his shoulder. “You in?”
I should say no. I should go back, read that book, fortify my boundaries, do literally anything else. Instead, I hear myself say,“Yeah, I’m in.”
He grins like he won something bigger than a cookie ribbon. “Good. I hear they added a new twist this year.”
“Dare I ask?”
“Mistletoe over the gazebo steps,” he says, mouth tilting. “Strategic placement I’d say.”
“Of course.” I aim for dry, but land somewhere near breathless. “Small-town subtlety at its finest.”
We step out into the crisp air. The door swings shut behind us, and I feel it—the faint tug, like the whole town’s conspiring. Like this momentum has teeth.
Liam falls into step beside me, our shoulders almost-but-not touching, the box of cookies warm between us like a secret.
Just a game, I tell myself.
The lie tastes like orange and sugar on my tongue.