You weren’t even supposed to be here. Spending Christmas Eve at the Sturniolos’ house was not your idea of a good time, especially knowing Chris would be there. He was the absolute worst. Always teasing you, always finding ways to push your buttons. But when Nick begged, you couldn’t say no.

And maybe the promise of food had something to do with it.

When you walked in, the house was decorated like something out of a Christmas movie. A huge tree stood in the corner, lights twinkled across the ceiling, and the smell of freshly baked cookies filled the air. But the only thing that mattered? The table—piled high with mashed potatoes, mac and cheese, ham, and everything else you could dream of.

You wasted no time piling your plate, ignoring the way Chris was watching you.

He strolled over, smirking. “Did you even chew that last bite?”

You rolled your eyes, stuffing another forkful of food into your mouth just to annoy him.

Chris let out a low chuckle. “You eat like you’re training for a championship.”

You ignored him and kept eating.

A few hours later, after too much eggnog and entirely too much food, you were ready to crash. But as you turned the corner, you smacked straight into Chris.

He caught your arm before you could stumble back, steadying you.

You frowned. “Watch where you’re—”

He wasn’t listening. He was looking up.

You followed his gaze.

Mistletoe.

You groaned. “Are you kidding me?”

Chris just grinned. “Rules are rules.”

You scoffed. “Screw the rules.”

But the way he was looking at you, all amused and cocky, made your stomach flip. He was annoyingly attractive. And it was Christmas. And maybe, just maybe, the eggnog had gone to your head.

So you kissed him. Just for a second.

But then he pulled you closer. One second turned into two. Two turned into something a lot longer.

And thirty minutes later, you were tangled in his sheets, wondering how the hell this happened.