Christmas With You

8. I Wish It Could Be Christmas Everyday

It's the first day back at school since Christmas, and I can't stop smiling.  I practically skipped up the school steps this morning (I got a few weird looks) and I actually squealed (yes, squealed) when I noticed that the wreath is still on my locker.  At some point, I'm probably going to get reprimanded for 'defacing school property' (even though it was technically Cameron who did it), but I don't care.

Since I confessed everything to Cameron, I've been happy for the first time in years.  Sure, I've laughed, I've smiled, I've had friends - but never like this.  This?  This is brilliant.  Mum said that if she didn't know any better, she'd think I was in love.

Who knows?  Maybe she's right.

I get to my first lesson, Maths, which I would normally hate.  Today, however, negativity seems impossible.  Is this what it feels like to be high? I wonder.

After what feels like eons (okay, so maybe it has only been a couple of hours) I march back to my locker, waiting for Cameron.  At last, I spy him at the other end of the hallway, a mop of reddish-brown hair - heading straight for me.  "I have something to say," I tell him when he reaches me.

"No.  Me first," he insists, eyes narrowed.  I have never seen him looking this determined.  And he's never interrupted me before.  Ever.  I shrug.  There's no guarantee he'll want to talk to me once I've said my part anyway, so there's no harm in letting him go first.

"Go ahead," I encourage him.  Instead of talking, he hands me a small, square envelope.  I search his face, his eyes, but he is expressionless, giving nothing away.  Again, I shrug, tearing open the envelope to reveal a glittering card depicting a bough of holly.  "You realise it's been, like, a fortnight since Christmas, right?"

"Just read the card," Cameron instructs impatiently.  His foot is tapping, and the index finger of his left hand is twitching - his telltale signs of nerves.  What is going on?  Obediently, I open the card.  My heart almost stops when I read the message inside.

Holly,

I know you think I followed you out of the classroom that day to be annoying, but it was because I was worried.  Because I care.

I liked you Holly.  Not just as a friend.  I still do.

Sorry if this ruins everything,

Cameron

By the time I look up, he's already halfway down the corridor.  Hastily, I drop the card into my locker, scrambling for something else that I shoved in there earlier this morning, before I race after him.  "Cameron!"  A couple of people turn to cast puzzled or judgmental glances towards me, but I don't falter.  "Cameron," I say breathlessly when I finally catch up.

He freezes.  Slowly, he turns to face me.  "Holly?"

I gulp.  "You didn't let me talk."  Wow, Holly, I internally criticize myself.  Is that the best you can do?

Cameron hesitates, but after a few moments of consideration, he wraps his hand around my wrist, dragging me to the side of the hallway.  By now, there aren't many people; they're probably disappearing off to assembly, but I need to talk to Cameron.  What I have to say is more important than some assembly.  "So talk," he prompts me.

Slowly, with shaking hands, I raise the object I took from my locker.  This could go one of two ways.  His eyebrows crease in confusion.  "Is that-"

"Mistletoe," I confirm, before pressing my mouth to his.  He tastes of gingerbread and peppermint and everything to do with Christmas, which probably shouldn't taste good when combined, but (trust me) it does.  I smile before pulling away, my heart beating like a little drummer boy - Cameron really has changed me, if that Christmas song reference is evidence of anything. Biting my lip, I glance at him nervously.

He intertwines his fingers with mine in response to my unspoken question.  "Well said."  I laugh as he guides me down the hallway, grinning at his hand in mine.