Page 29 of Merry Pucking Christmas
She’s mine.
I don’t care if this is for charity—there’s no way in hell I’m okay with anyone else kissing her. The next guy steps up, and the thought of him putting his lips on her makes my blood boil. I grit my teeth, every instinct in me screaming to step in and stop this. I catch Noelle’s eye, and she gives me a small smile, clearly sensing my tension.
I can’t take it. When it’s finally my turn to step up to the booth, I drop my donation into the jar, and without hesitation, I close the gap between us. The kiss is supposed to be quick, just like all the others, but the second our lips touch, I deepen it, my hand sliding to the back of her neck. It’s possessive, not just for the cameras or the crowd, but for me. It’s a silent declaration that she’s mine.
When I pull back, her cheeks are flushed, and the crowd cheers like they’ve just seen something special. Noelle’s eyes are wide, her lips parted, but I can’t bring myself to care about the attention.
I lean in close, whispering against her ear. “That’s the last time anyone but me gets to kiss you today.”
She laughs softly, breathless. “Jealous much?”
I smirk, my hand still resting at the nape of her neck. “More than you know.”
Chapter 18
Noelle
There’s nothing sexier than a kissing booth. Well, maybe York planting his lips across mine at the kissing booth might be a bit sexier.
York’s lips linger against mine for a moment longer than any of the others, his hand firmly on the back of my neck, and I’m lost in the sensation of his possessiveness. The crowd around us cheers, clapping and laughing like we’ve just given them the show of the festival. My heart’s racing, my cheeks are flushed, and all I can think about is how much I never want this to end.
When he pulls back, his blue eyes are locked on mine, and his voice is low but firm. “Nobody else is kissing you today. Just me.”
The crowd cheers louder, clearly eating up the romantic declaration, but my focus is entirely on York. I don’t even carethat the cameras are snapping away, or that people are watching. For once, I’m not pretending.
York's thumb grazes my cheek as he steps back, grinning at the reaction he’s stirred up. I can’t help but smile, my heart feeling light, like nothing else in the world matters but this moment.
Just as I’m about to say something, I spot my dad approaching, his expression unreadable. My stomach flips. He looks right at York and says, “York, can I have a word with you?”
York’s confident smirk falters for just a second, and my pulse quickens. I can’t shake the feeling that my dad might suspect something, and now… well, now it’s time to face the music.
York nods, his demeanor cool as he straightens up. “Sure, Coach.”
The two of them step away, and the crowd's buzz fades into the background. My eyes stay glued to York as he and my dad walk off, my heart pounding, wondering what they’re talking about, wondering if my dad knows.
I’m still staring after them when my mom sidles up next to me, her soft, warm presence a comfort I didn’t know I needed.
“You know,” she says, a knowing smile tugging at her lips, “I’ve never seen you so happy.”
I blink, pulling my gaze away from where York and Dad disappeared. “What?”
She chuckles, reaching out to brush a stray hair from my face. “You. This… glow about you. I’ve seen you happy before, but this is different.”
Her words catch me off guard. For a moment, I don’t know what to say. There’s this knot in my stomach because as much as I want to gush about how right she is, I still haven’t told them the truth. I’m dating York Steele. For real. But my mom’s soft, understanding eyes seem to already know. Maybe she’s known all along.
I clear my throat, glancing down at the snow-dusted ground. “I am happy, Mom.”
She smiles warmly, her eyes twinkling. “It’s good to see, sweetheart. York’s a good man.”
Before I can respond, the festival starts shifting gears as the sun dips below the horizon, casting a golden glow over everything. Lights flicker on, illuminating the booths and the twinkling Christmas décor. The festive buzz in the air turns softer, more intimate, and couples are starting to gather by the outdoor dance floor, where soft Christmas music is playing.
I glance around, taking it all in—the warm light, the smell of happiness, the gentle hum of Christmas melodies floating on the breeze. And then, as if on cue, York appears beside me, his hand finding mine.
“Care to dance?” he asks, his voice low and smooth, and for a moment, I forget everything else—the paparazzi, my dad’s serious expression, all the secrets we haven’t told yet.
I look up at him, my heart swelling with an emotion I can’t quite put into words, and I nod. “I’d love to.”
He leads me to the dance floor, his hand warm in mine, and as we step into the soft glow of the lights, the world feels like it’s shrinking down to just the two of us. York pulls me close, hishand resting on the small of my back, and I melt into him as we sway to the music.