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Snow fell in lazy drifts across the window panes, the soft white glow reflecting off the living room floor. Ashlyn’s house, usually quiet and void of color, was now bustling with noise and light, the warmth of the fireplace casting golden hues over the group of friends gathered near the tree.
“You actually own Christmas decorations?” Logan asked, carefully hanging a silver ornament on a branch.
Ashlyn stood with her arms crossed, slate green eyes narrowing. “I didn’t say I bought them. My parents did. Don’t read into it.”
Taylor snorted. “I think it’s cute. See, Ash has a soft side after all.”
Ashlyn’s gaze flicked over to Tyler, who was lounging on the couch with a mug of hot chocolate. “Say one word and I’ll dump this cider over your head.”
He smirked. “Didn’t say anything, Carrot Top.”
“Don’t call me that.” She said it instantly, reflexively, but there wasn’t much venom in her voice. Not anymore.
Ben, cheeks red from the cold, waltzed in with Aiden, both carrying boxes of string lights. He put the boxes down and signed “Hey, where should we put these?”
“Outside,” Ashlyn said flatly, but relented when she saw their hopeful expressions. “Fine. Stair railing. But if you break anything—”
“We know, you’ll feed us to the snowmen,” Aiden chimed, grinning.
They all busied themselves with decorating—Taylor leading the charge with festive music, Logan carefully untangling the lights, and Ben making a mess of tinsel while laughing slightly at Logan's bad jokes. Tyler, surprisingly, joined in without much complaint, helping Taylor get the star on the top of the tree since no one else was tall enough and Ben was busy.
Ashlyn hovered at the edge of it all, her usual distance shrinking ever so slightly. The others were loud, bright, a bit annoying—but they weren’t bad.
Tyler caught her watching, one brow raised. “You’re not gonna stand there all night supervising, are you?”
“Maybe,” she said. “Someone needs to make sure you don’t fry yourself plugging in the lights.”
He stepped closer, that cocky smile tugging at his lips. “Aw, you care.”
“I care about my house not catching fire,” she deadpanned.
Tyler just chuckled and walked past her, shoulders brushing briefly. She didn’t flinch away this time.
Later, after dinner and a chaotic round of charades that ended with Taylor miming a tree for five straight minutes, the group migrated to the den. Logan and Aiden had passed out on the floor with a pile of blankets, Ben was raiding the kitchen for leftover cookies with Taylor.
Tyler and Ashlyn sat on the couch, an unusual silence settling between them. The lights on the tree blinked slowly. The fireplace crackled. There was a mistletoe hanging near the archway—an old tradition from her parents that no one had taken seriously. Yet.
Tyler leaned back, arms stretched over the top of the couch. “So. Not bad for a holiday, huh?”
Ashlyn looked at him. “Better than most.”
“That’s almost a compliment. You feeling okay?”
She rolled her eyes, but the corners of her lips tugged faintly. “Don’t push your luck.”
He shifted to face her more, eyes narrowing just a little. “You’ve been... weirdly tolerable tonight.”
“Thanks?” she said, blinking.
Tyler looked up, casual, like it didn’t mean anything. “Hey, look. Mistletoe.”
Her expression hardened. “That’s not for us.”
“Why not?” He smirked. “It’s for couples. We are one.”
She hesitated. “You’re joking.”
“Not this time.” His voice dropped just slightly. The snark was still there, but softer. “C’mon. You’re not scared, are you?”
“Of what, you? Please.” Her eyes narrowed, but there was a flicker of something in them—uncertainty, anticipation.
He stood, holding out a hand. “Well then. Prove it.”
Ashlyn stared at him like he was insane. And maybe he was. But she found herself moving anyway. She took his hand.
They walked to the archway.
The mistletoe was small, delicate. Its shadow fell across them as they stopped beneath it.
“You know,” he said, voice low now, “for someone who punches first and asks later, you’re really hesitating.”
“I’m calculating,” she said. “There’s a difference.”
He grinned. “I’ll make it easy, then.”
Tyler leaned in slowly—not cocky now, not taunting. Just close, warm, real. His hand brushed her cheek, hesitant at first, then firm. She didn’t move. Her heart pounded a traitorous rhythm in her chest.
Their lips met.
It wasn’t fireworks. It wasn’t some cheesy fairytale.
It was better.
It was warmth in the cold. A moment of calm between storms. It was the kind of kiss that said we made it here after everything—after arguing, bickering, saving each other, and fighting side by side.
Tyler pulled back slightly, his nose still brushing hers. “Still calculating?”
Ashlyn blinked, stunned. Then smirked. “No. I made my move.”
He laughed softly. “That’s my girl.”
She frowned. “Don’t make it weird.”
“Too late. You kissed me under your parents’ mistletoe. That’s peak weird.”
Behind them, someone groaned. “Ugh, finally,” came Taylor’s voice. “It was like watching two feral cats flirt for six months.”
Ashlyn turned her head slowly. “Go back to your boyfriend.”
Taylor winked, disappearing into the kitchen with Ben, let out a victorious “Yessss!” and pumped his fist.
Ashlyn sighed. “This is going to be annoying.”
“Yeah,” Tyler agreed, brushing his thumb over her knuckles. “But I’m here for it.”
The night wound down after that, the lights dimming, the music soft. The others found their places with blankets and spare pillows scattered across the living room. Snow continued to fall outside, quiet and slow.
Ashlyn and Tyler sat back down on the couch, closer now, the space between them gone.
“You know,” Tyler said after a pause, “you’re really not that bad when you’re not threatening to break someone’s fingers.”
She leaned her head on his shoulder. “You’re only saying that because I kissed you.”
“Yeah. And because your attitude is finally developing.”
She snorted softly. “Yours still sucks.”
“Fair.”
There was another beat of silence.
Then Ashlyn said, quietly, “Thanks. For helping tonight. And... not being completely insufferable.”
“You’re welcome,” Tyler said. “And hey—if I get hurt again, I expect twice the guilt kisses.”
She looked up at him, deadpan. “You’re not funny.”
“Carrot Top, you wound me.”
She groaned. “Seriously. I don’t even like carrots.”
“I know.” He smirked. “That’s what makes it perfect.”