"Screw that. We're out." A vein bulges beneath Tristan's temple.

"You guys have outdone yourselves," one of Tristan's friends says from his left. He's a few inches shorter than Tristan, has dark brown skin, and is smiling widely—a stark contrast to Tristan's scowl.

"This is epic!" A redhead with an olive-colored beanie dishes out with excitement.

Minutes ago, Tristan introduced me to everyone, about ten people, but I already forgot most names. I do, however, remember the names of the game organizers—Pat and Patti. Kind of hard to forget, especially seeing that they're a couple.

Mischief gleams in Patti's dark brown eyes as she smacks on her gum. She's holding a clipboard a la teacher at summer camp style. Except here, we're out in the freezing snow, at the top of a hill overlooking the town. "Well, as we say in Thailand—" Patti starts and then proceeds to speak in Thai.

"Oh, great. When you put it like that, I'm convinced," Tristan says sarcastically and I crack a smile.

"It means, just live!" Patti waves her clipboard and a jingle sounds from her wrist. She's in a full out Christmas themed outfit, complete with a red and green sweater with Santa puppies all over it, and a reindeer headband that blinks in and out of various colors. The Grinch would cower from the infectious joy she's exuding. She glances at Pat for what looks like validation.

Tall and gangly, Pat nods at his girlfriend before turning and scanning the group. "Guys, this is Patti's first real American Christmas. You're either in and fucking jolly about it or you're out."

Tristan lets out an exasperated sigh. "It's not the game itself, it's the loser's punishment that we have a problem with."

"Oh, yeah, I picked that one," Pat says with a manic grin, looking quite pleased with himself.

"Uhh, speak for yourself, Tristan," I say in a teasing tone which causes Tristan to whirl his head toward me, shock pasted over his features. His friends hoot and holler in support.

"What? You're okay with it?" he asks in disbelief.

The flame of competition burns warmly in my chest, and mentally replaying the stakes only adds fuel to the fire. "Absolutely," I smile, taking in his questioning gaze, "because we're not going to lose."

"Zoey, you can be my partner if you need to ditch scared wittle Twistan," a stocky guy with light brown hair says.

"Fuck off, Curren," Tristan's voice is tinged with annoyance and teeters on the edge of...possessiveness? It's almost as if it's his birthright that I be his partner even though we never discussed the pairing. My stomach twirls but I chide it back into a non-gymnast position. Tristan turns to me and pulls me a step back. "Zoey, isn't your Instagram for your art stuff? Like professional work stuff?"

"Yes, but like I said I won't lose." I cross my arms. How does Tristan know about my Instagram account? Well, I guess most artists have one.

"But if we do, you're one hundred percent okay with the winner forcing us into Christmas karaoke and posting a video on your profile about it?"

"Like I said, I'm not going to lose. I live for competitions like this." Honestly, this is exactly what I need right now to take my mind off of the messiness that is life. All I want is to just forget about looking for jobs, forget about the play assignment, and forget about these weird fluttery sensations I have around my sister's love interest. I want to just Khai mi ch...something...ugh whatever Patti said in Thai. And if living just so happens to be indulging in every Christmas tradition that Patti has dreamt up, then so be it. 

The lines between Tristan's brows soften. His features morph into an assessing gaze. I cross my arms and say, "But if you're worried about your Instagram, then maybe I should pair up with..."

Before I can finish my sentence he's guiding us a step back to the mingling group. "Alright, we're in. Zoey is going to be my partner." He shoots a quick glare toward Curren.

"Hell yeah, let's get it going!" Pat says and Patti shrieks with glee. "Alright, everyone else start pairing up! Patti and I will partake in some of the activities but otherwise, we'll be referees and judges to make sure you complete each step of the Amazing Christmas Race."

Everyone else pairs up, and each pair is given a sealed envelope decorated with Christmas glitter. "This is going to fuck up my jacket," a guy who might be named Kevin holds it away from his black Canada Goose.

Pat gives him a look that seems to say something like his earlier words, You better be jolly, or maybe even, Don't ruin this for me.

"In your hands you have your first instructions. You cannot open it until you sled down the hill and reach the lamp post. Please let's all clap for Kelly who donated the sleds for today," Patti says with her accent coating her words.

The group claps and I lean over to Tristan whispering, "Which one's Kelly?"

"She's the rec center manager at the Middle School. She's not even here." Tristan rolls his eyes in amusement and claps. Pat looks to be taking a video on his phone.

Tucking our envelope into my jacket, I follow Tristan to one of the sleds being laid out. "You better not hold us back, Londer. I really don't need any embarrassing videos on my Instagram."

His smirk is instantaneous as he gestures toward the bright red sled. "I'll do my best. After you, sweetheart."

I hesitate for a moment taking in the sled long enough to carry two people. Others are mounting theirs and getting into position. Some look very...spoon-y.

It's just sledding down a hill, I remind myself. Still, awareness spreads through me as I take a seat toward the front of the sled and Tristan files in right behind me. While there are layers upon layers of clothes that separate us, my body still heats as his legs slide around my sides and his broad chest presses against my back.

I stop breathing when his arms wrap around my waist and pull me closer to him. My cells hum in satisfaction, as if the solid, warm mass of Tristan wrapped around me was made to fit this way. The click of a latch. Locking two pieces of a puzzle together. Sliding a book into its rightful slot.

"This alright?" he asks, voice gruff and quiet, near the shell of my ear, sending shivers down my spine.

"Mhmm" is all I Iet out. I should lean forward and make a little bit of space between us. I really should. But I don't.

The energy in my veins promotes to thrilling when Tristan leans down again and whispers, "Wrap your hands around my legs so you don't fall off." Without hesitation I do as he says, gulping past the dryness in my throat. His muscles feel firm, strong, like he's someone who doesn't skip leg day at the gym. I wiggle myself back into him, to get better leverage as I hold his legs. The cadence of his breathing by my ear shifts and he remains still as a rock.

Time suspends just for a moment and then it breaks into hyper speed when someone yells "Go!"

The wind whips against me as we shoot down the hill. Laughter and squeals erupt around us and I join in, screaming out while holding Tristan tight, as gravity and ice ceremoniously pull us down. Seconds later, we reach the bottom and bolt for the dark green lamp post, right behind two guys. Once we reach it I scramble to open the envelope, glitter flying everywhere.

Battle it out in this hilariously fun competition with a charming snowball fight. Once you've successfully made two hits each on a friendly opposing team, then you can receive your next winter antics envelope.

"Clearly Patti and Pat are fans of using ChatGPT," Tristan says as we read over the card. I laugh and drop down to gather fresh snow. Balls of snow are already flying through the air as people start following instructions. More laughter and squeals as we try to dodge them and throw our own.

We get our two hits in and sprint back to the lamp post where Patti is waiting with our next card. Next up, a race to build a three foot high snowman. We're a little behind another pair, but not by much. They've just started building their base when we find a spot and get to work. "Zoey, with that kind of hustle, we could actually win this thing," Tristan says, seemingly impressed, as he continues packing more snow together.

"I told you I'm in it to win it!" I say slightly out of breath. Even though I'm moving faster than I ever have before, Tristan takes the lead in planning out how to accomplish the task. Instead of focusing on the same snowman section, he has us divide and conquer. And this process continues on throughout the next couple of challenges.

He's very methodical, approaching each challenge with quick, yet thoughtful guidance on how we can be efficient with our time. With every passing second, it's clear we're going to win.

The Pats have us racing into town, and guzzling down the Chocolate Shop's special habanero hot chocolate after solving some Christmas trivia. We rush to someone's house on the edge of town, where various cookies are already waiting to be decorated. And after the most atrocious paint job I've ever done in my life, we're tasked with finding someone in town who needs help with something, and helping them—aka spreading Christmas cheer. It takes us way too long to find someone, and by the time we do, we're sure we're bumped back a couple of spots in the race.

The sun is setting when we finish sweeping the entryway for the owner of the cute little gift shop we're in. The woman who looks to be in her seventies graciously gave us a task after we explained our situation.

Sprinting over to the karaoke bar, my chest vibrates. Something tells me this will be our final stop. I scream "Hell yes!" when I see that we're the first pair to get here. We're going to win this thing after all.

Chatter fills the low lit, crowded space, as a group of strangers belt their heart out to Jingle Bell Rock from the stage up front. I spot Patti beaming at us from one of the high top tables close to the entrance, waving us down with a glitter envelope in her hand. "Last one, you crazy kids!"

"We're the crazy ones, huh?" Tristan shouts back with a laugh while wiping his brow with the back of his sleeve. While we're having such a blast, relief spreads through my bones that we're nearing the finish line. One last task. I'm a sweaty mess and lost my beanie somewhere in between spitting out scalding hot spicy chocolate and dying laughing over Tristan's gingerbread man accidentally looking BDSM themed. My hair must look like a rat's nest and the light make up I put on this morning has surely smeared off.

Pattie giggles and says, "Here, have a mint before you open your last challenge," once we reach her. She offers up two wrapped peppermints that we each grab and pop into our mouths without hesitation. I tear through the envelope, sucking on the spiced candy. My stomach pitches as soon as I read our final task.

And when I glance up and spot it, tingles erupt over me.

The mistletoe.