Kiss under mistletoe?! What? With whom? Elle had even written the whole thing up like a contract. Did she have no clue my heart was still in a bin outside Woody’s house? That I was dead to love? Still, at least it meant Nick hadn’t told her he’d seen the whole Flights Not Feelings cringeathon.

But what would happen if I didn’t? The Christmas surprise for our mums that Elle was sorting would be off. And I did love a Christmas surprise. And mums.

I should have let her know I wasn’t up for it when I got back home, like I’d meant to. But after my unplanned meet of Grumpy Dominic, I made a spontaneous decision to try and be more spontaneous.

Which I was now deeply regretting.

New plan for notebook—never be spontaneous again.

I looked down. What was Elle going to say back?

Typing. Stop. Typing.

Keep calm and Christmas on?!

KEEP CALM???

I took a second to compose myself. I needed to try and be a fraction cooler about this. A very small fraction, maybe 1/17882732879797.

Look. Earlier today I found out Nick has NEVER SEEN ELF. And now this?!

He’d told me when he’d turned up for breakfast and I’d asked if he fancied watching it with me later in the week. But he’d said it seemed ridiculous. So I’d told him HE seemed ridiculous and had woken up knowing (a.) my annual tradition was officially off, and (b.) I was spending pre-Christmas living with a maniac. Guess me and my traditions were too boring for Nick—and it increased my suspicion that he was only doing Christmassy stuff with me on Elle’s request.

Is that a no then?

YES!

As in “it’s a no”

Can you think of something else?!

Elle must be trying to think of something, as the back-and-forth paused. I refreshed her profile as I waited. Dove had announced that Elle had held on to fourth place, with just over 2,000 new followers, but @CallMeClaraT was firmly in the lead with 4,000. Elle looked fine about it though and had posted a celebratory shimmy—my ramshackle room had never looked so glam. Even the semi-dead poinsettia couldn’t dull her shine. She didn’t seem bothered that she’d started to get some really mean comments on her posts either. It all seemed to be from one person though, so if it got worse, maybe I could report them.

I brushed my hair, which felt like a rope after getting blown about at the Christmas Makers market this morning. I should never tackle my knots when I’m this stressed. I yanked out at least five clumps—enough to make a small hair hedgehog on the floor.

I’ll confer with Ruby later

Breathe, Holly, breathe.