A Kiss Under The Mistletoe’s Glow

The warmth of the King Head’s pub on that December evening was nothing short of magical. Every little corner was filled with festive decorations. Holly and ivy garlands were hung over the timber beams, with their lovely little sprigs mixed in with twinkling fairy lights that sparkled like tiny stars.

The smell of spiced mulled wine filled the air, mixing with the delicious scents of mince pies and roasted chestnuts coming from the busy kitchen. Every aspect of the atmosphere seemed to wrap around Holly like the cosiest of blankets, gently encouraging her to give in to the magic of the night.

As she walked in, her boots clicked softly on the well-worn floorboards.

Holly smiled when she saw her friends hanging out at their usual table by the window. The frost on the glass sparkled like little diamonds under the glow of the street lamps. Her red sweater, adorned with sequined reindeer, caught the light as she waved and joined them, the merriment of the scene filling her with a sense of holiday giddiness.

The lively buzz of laughter and conversation at the pub suddenly faded as a smooth, booming voice pierced through the festivities.

“Hello everyone, I’m Noel, and I’ll be your quiz master for tonight. Are we ready to test just how Christmassy you all are?”

Holly was both startled and intrigued as she turned towards the voice, curious to find out who had taken over from the old quizmaster.

Leaning nonchalantly against a stool near the roaring fire stood a man in a deep green suit jacket and jeans. The top button of his white shirt was casually undone, lending him an air of easy charm. His dark hair caught the flickering firelight just right, making it look like he had a halo around him.

But his eyes, blue-grey and sparkling with mischief, like frost catching the first kiss of the morning sun, immediately captured her attention.

“And for the record,” Noel continued, “this is not a stage name. I was actually born on Christmas Eve. So keeping in the holiday spirit, let’s start off with a joke!”

Sarcastic groans echoed through the pub as Noel asked, “Did you hear about the snowman who joined the quiz team?” Pausing for a second, Noel looked around the puzzled faces before continuing, “He got into a heated argument and melted under pressure!”

A wave of laughter floated around the room, but Holly hardly noticed it. Something about the way his grin lingered — playful, inviting, and entirely unselfconscious — tugged at her focus.

The quiz began, and for Holly, it was pure euphoria. She thrived on this annual event, burning through the questions alongside her friends with practised ease. Noel’s voice, melodic and rich, carried effortlessly over the clatter of glasses and murmured debates. His clever remarks between questions — bitingly quick and perfectly timed — elicited knowing chuckles and cheers even from the most competitive teams.

“Question 17!” Noel declared, his voice carrying a teasing lilt as his gaze roved over the crowd. “Which direction should you stir mincemeat for good luck? Clockwise or anticlockwise?” His eyes found Holly’s widening in confusion, and he smiled, lifting an exaggerated brow. “Don’t worry, I promise this won’t be on the history test,” he teased.

Holly laughed, feeling her cheeks grow warm under the combination of his gaze and the mulled wine in hand. “I think you’re trying to stir up trouble,” she shot back, her tone light and playful.

By the end of the final round, Holly and her team had pulled off another victory this year. The sound of clapping and scattered congratulations filled the air as prizes were handed out to the top three teams.

As the pub slowly began to empty, Holly found herself lingering near the fire, sipping the last of her wine. Her friends had filtered out one by one, leaving her a rare moment of solitude amidst the festive bustle.

“Congrats on a well-deserved first place,” a familiar voice sounded, warm and smooth. She turned, her eyes meeting Noel’s once more. He stood casually in the firelight, hands in his pockets, a softness in his expression that hadn’t been there during the quiz.

“You were amazing tonight,” he said, the teasing edge in his tone now replaced with something far gentler.

“Thanks,” Holly replied, a playful lilt still apparent in her voice. “You weren’t so bad yourself — for a new quiz master.”

Noel chuckled, the sound low and disarming. “Careful,” he said, stepping closer. “I may take that as an invitation to try even harder next time.”

She smirked, tilting her head. “I’d expect nothing less.”

They slid into easy conversation, sharing two more glasses of mulled wine as the minutes melted into something deeper. As the fire flickered, their playful banter turned into shared dreams, quiet confessions, and that exciting feeling of something new in the air.

Eventually, there was a pause, and the cosy silence was just filled with the sound of the crackling flames. Noel leaned in a bit, his hand lightly grazing hers as it sat on the arm of her chair. Holly felt that spark again. The same one his smile had lit up hours before. It had now fanned into a full blaze.

“It’s customary, you know,” he murmured, his voice barely audible above the crackling fire.

“What is?” she asked, her heart racing as their eyes locked.

He nodded upward, and Holly followed his gaze. Above them, nestled in the garland above the hearth, hung a delicate sprig of mistletoe, its green leaves and white berries glowing softly in the warmth of the light.

For just a heartbeat, the moment hung in the air between them, buzzing with tension and a sense of inevitability. Then, as if drawn together by something beyond their control, their lips came together in a gentle and lingering kiss.

The flames danced, quietly acknowledging a bond that brought the undeniable promise of something more.