Parsley. How stupid could a person get?! Another one of those do-it-yourself, uber-creative, Martha Stewart-wannabe ideas that finally manifest themselves as a pathetic song-and-dance when the moment of truth arrives.
"Look who's under the mistletoe!" What mistletoe?! An otherwise perfect Christmas, admittedly a little ragged, yet cute in a Charlie Brown way, destroyed by a piece of tossed-out garnish. It should have been more perfect than that, just a little bit.
All I wanted was to give her a perfect Christmas. Forget the parsley, forget actual mistletoe; they weren't necessary. Where did I get that idea from in the first place? Was it even my idea? Parsley or mistletoe: exactly what message did they send? To my best friend, of all people? Best friends share a lot of things, but not stuff like that, secrets like that. That's something outside the best friends universe. Great. Now she is going to think I'm an idiot.
It's not really even a crush. Yet.
But they say miracles happen this time of year.
There's mistletoe--I mean parsley--right above us. Not a good situation to be in. Maybe I should make the first move. By moving away. This isn't necessary. Not a perfect Christmas. She doesn't want this.
She's making the first move!
A kiss on the cheek. Warm. A kiss on the cheek: What's that supposed to mean?!
But it wasn't too awkward. And really kind of nice.
Boo-yah.
The End!