Underneath the Mistletoe

"I won't ask for much this Christmas! I won't even wish for snow!" sang Thomas, voice loud as a trumpet and completely out of tune to the radio. He was swaying back and forth so much the 100% wool carpet was getting even more WKD than him. 

"Oh for God's sake Thomas! What did I tell you about the carpet?!?" Matt screamed. With kitchen towels (Cushelle, knowing him) in hand he sprinted forward, shoving his way through the crowd of revellers to pluck the glass from Thomas's hand. Thomas, meanwhile, giggled and stumbled away to join the crowd. 

And they weren't very happy about Matt's conscientiousness. 

"Oi Matt! Stop being such a killjoy!" Ariana and Natalie said in chorus. The others' moans and groans rose like backing music. 

From the other end of the room I watched Matt scolding Thomas even more, while I was regretting being there. I hadn't said anything to anyone apart from a few polite "Hi's", the music was sick but I didn't feel like dancing, I hadn't sipped my Cognac. Even Thomas's singing (which was still croaky and out of tune) and Matt's fuming failed to tickle my funnybone. I couldn't even smile. 

Some party animal I turned out to be. 

"Boy, some party animal you turned out to be." 

Huh? Who said... "Oh, hey Rochelle." 

"Oh hey Rochelle? That's all you have to say? To me?" 

I shrugged my shoulders. 

"You've been avoiding me all night. How dare you avoid me? What's wrong with you, the closet door not opening?" 

My eyes immediately caught hers, and then the completely emptied bottle of Foster's in her hand. Uh oh.

"Come on Shaq! Ain't you a man?"

I could hear the crowd's attention shifting to us. Even Thomas and Matt had stopped quarrelling to stare. Whispers of "Did she just say something about closet?" and "I always knew he was a bit girly, with eyelashes that long" quickly arose. And they annoyed me.

"Listen Rochelle. I don't appreciate you talking like that about me. You'd better stop. Right now." I hadn't meant to say it so loudly but that was how it came out.

"OOOOOOOOOOH!" went the crowd.

She was shocked too, she had to widen her eyes to fully take in the seriousness on my face. That encouraged me to keep up the momentum.

"You're drunk, we're in public and I have a lot on my mind so I won't deal with you properly yet. Besides, I have somewhere else to be." Heart pounding, veins rumbling throughout my body, this confidence felt good. It gave my steps extra fuel as I pushed past her and stormed toward the door. But just as I reached the door frame I felt something tug at my sleeve.

Rochelle. I tried to yank myself away.

"Wait! Shaq, don't go. Please."

"Give me a good reason."  

Her sapphire eyes quickly surveyed the area as she struggled - desperately, I noticed - to find an answer. Then she found it. "We're under the mistletoe. Don't you know what a boy and a girl do underneath the mistletoe?" Her hands clasped my arms and she ducked her head toward me, her lips landing squarely on mine! 

The revulsion shot me like a bullet, forcing me pull away. Hard, fast and much to the disappointment (and shock) of the crowd.

I couldn't have cared less. I wiped my mouth disgustedly and demanded her, "Back off! What do you think you're doing?"

"What is this? What's wrong with you?" she sneered back.

I turned tail and stormed off, deciding I was not about to be reminded of...