Monsters Under Mistletoe

4. Fern

Chapter 4

Fern

M y eyes open just as the sweet scent of baked goods touches my nostrils. I know I made a pact with Saga and Basil to eat a fuck-ton of protein, but surely Christmas is an exception, right?

Oak’s dad is a fancy pants baker, which must be why my kitchen smells like heaven. We opted to spend Christmas in the dorms, since almost no one would be here. That, and the walls aren’t as thin.

Ring. Ring.

I pick my phone off my nightstand and lift it up, my eyes burning at the brightness level, but I click accept anyway.

A cacophony of greetings come as my friends’ faces flood my screen before they realize they should probably talk one at a time.

“Merry Christmas, everyone,” Saga says, her background making it clear that she’s also still in bed.

Basil is in a room full of colorful decorations, but he waves his hand. “Happy belated Winter Solstice. I’m still with my parents, so I’m going to spend the day with them. Love you all.”

He signs off, and Chrysanthemum blows a kiss at all of us, her pink hair tied up in a neat bow that wraps around her nubby horns.

“So, what are you all doing?” I ask.

Daffodil and Iris, who are usually the loudest, are awfully quiet and still. Daffodil shifts her phone down to two different arms that lay across her body.

I’m happy for her.

“I’m guessing Dr. Ali is still asleep,” I say as pretentiously as possible while staring into Iris’ purple eyes.

“No, I am not. Our familiars are still resting, and my farfora is being mindful of that,” a deep voice comes from Iris’ line.

“How cute,” Chrysanthemum says, feigning adoration. “Okay, I’m sick of these lovebirds. Fern, Saga, what’re you two up to?”

“Nothing,” Saga says, her golden eyes squinting as she gives me a look. “Fern, you look way too fucking smug. Spit it out.”

“Oak is here.”

“Fuck yeah!” Iris squeals loudly, much to her boyfriends’ dismay.

“Fern, would you come out here? I have a surprise for you,” Oak’s voice comes from the other side of the door.

“Speaking of, I’ve gotta go,” I say and wink at the camera.

I’m almost jealous I don’t get to hear what everyone says next. Almost.

Opening the door, I cross into the living room, but Oak is nowhere to be found.

“Oak?”

“Close your eyes,” his voice sounds from behind me. “And get on your knees.”

“My knees?” I ask, my tone teasing.

“Was I not clear?”

I kneel on the ground, as close to what I think he means, and I can hear crinkling sounds as Oak’s warm body shifts closer to mine.

“You can open those emerald eyes of yours, sir.”

And I do. Standing before me is Oak, wearing nothing but a small slip of wrapping paper on his lower half and a big red bow on top.

I bite my bottom lip, hugging his hips with my hands as I stare up at him. He’s beautiful, probably the most gorgeous man I’ve ever seen, and he’s all mine.

“Unwrap me, and do whatever you’d like,” he whispers.

Merry fucking Christmas to me.