It’s been a little over two years since we all got thrown together on that X Factor stage, and I swear I didn’t expect this.

You were supposed to just be my bandmate. Someone to harmonize with, laugh with on tour buses, and argue with over who finished the last of the snacks.

Except I’ve liked you since the start. Properly liked you.

Didn’t say anything, though. I couldn’t. We were all trying to figure out who we were, trying not to ruin the best thing that had ever happened to us. So I just…stayed quiet.

The others probably think I’m obvious. I keep trying to play it off. Standing next to you during photoshoots like it’s just coincidence, following you around on stage because “we’ve got the same cues” and laughing too loud at your jokes. You’d think after all these years on camera, I’d be better at pretending.

But now it's Christmas.

It’s freezing outside, and the fire is crackling in my mum’s living room. Everyone’s here. The guys, you, a few of our families. There’s wrapping paper everywhere, mugs of hot chocolate going cold on the coffee table, and my heart’s doing that stupid thing where it won’t calm down because you’re sitting across from me wearing a ridiculous ugly holiday sweater that you somehow make look good.

You stand to take your mug to the kitchen, and I notice it: The mistletoe hanging right above the doorway.

My mum probably put it there for decoration. But when I see you stop right under it, laughing at something Liam says, I can feel my palms start to sweat. This is my opportunity.

I should look away. I should definitely not get up.

But I’m already on my feet before I can stop myself.

“Hey,” I say, voice cracking halfway through the word. Brilliant start, really. “Um, y’know you’re standing right under a mistletoe, yeah? I think there’s, uh, a rule about this sort of thing. Pretty sure we’re supposed to kiss now...or something. I think.”