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“Syd, you okay?” It’s Carmy who yells for her from the kitchen.
“Yeah, yeah, give me one sec!” Sydney yells back from the office, as she puts on her high heels, then runs her hands over her deep green dress she just changed into.
It’s Christmas, and everyone celebrates together at the restaurant. The staff who had no plans with their extended family, the Berzattos, the Faks, Sydney’s dad, and Chantel’s. It’s a bit unsettling, having everyone together, like it’s somehow against the laws of nature. Sydney’s dad holding little Sophie in his lap? Richie and Chantel ganging up on her, sharing embarrassing stories of her? TJ talking with Pete about some movie?
And having a seat beside Carmy at Christmas dinner?
It’s… weird. In a good way, though. This anxious buzzing inside her is half nervousness, half excitement.
The nervous half of her takes her time, though, procrastinating to sit down to start dinner. Sydney was on her feet the whole day, setting the tables, decorating, and helping the catering company plate the food.
Everyone is already seated in the dining area, and they’re waiting for her to change into her dress. Sydney uses her phone’s camera to check her hair and make-up, and when she does, she has to accept that there is literally nothing else for her to do but to go out and enjoy her night. Oh, well.
So with a sigh, she leaves the office, and when she turns, Carmy’s there in the open door between the kitchen and the dining area, waiting for her. He's wearing a dark blue sweater over a button-up shirt, and his hair is much less unruly than usual. He looks… nice. And when she sees that he looks her up and down in her new outfit, she feels her face heating up.
“Hi,” she greets him, stupidly, when she reaches him at the door, as if they haven’t spent the last couple of hours together already.
But he just says, voice soft, “Hi. You ready?”
She nods as she looks at the room before her. Pleasant chatter, laughter, good music, nice decor, delicious food. The people she loves. “I think so,” she says, and as she turns back to him, she finds that he just… stares at her. In that intense way of his. “What’s-what’s wrong?”
Carmy shakes his head, rubs his neck, and looks at the ground instead. “No, no, nothing’s wrong, it’s just, you-you look, um… very–”
But he doesn’t have a chance to finish his sentence, because Richie’s voice cuts through the room.
“The first victims of the night, kiss, you little stunads!” he shouts, and when Sydney looks up at him, he stands up from his seat, looking right back at her, with a shit-eating grin on his face. “You’re under the mistletoe, chefs!”
“You gotta kiss!” Fak yells, too.
And surely, when she looks up, there is a mistletoe hanging above their heads.
Her eyes meet with Carmy’s for a second, and she’s suddenly very aware of just how close they’re standing, and how with her heels on, she’s a bit taller than him, and how his mouth is just right there, it’d take just a step to–
His gaze drops lower, she swears he’s looking at her lips, and her stomach flutters. She swallows.
Fuck. Is he– is he gonna–
But instead of leaning in, he turns his head and yells, “Fuck you, Richie, no one’s interested in your fucking games!” Then he steals a glance at her. “Sorry,” he murmurs.
Sydney can see he looks just a bit redder than he did half a minute ago.
She doesn’t understand why she stays put, under that mistletoe with him. She doesn’t understand why he does, too.
“Kiss that pretty boy, Syd!” It’s Chantel who screams at her, and Richie laughs so loudly at that.
“Really?” Syd shouts back, but her cousin just shrugs and sips from her glass. Even her dad is just laughing. Traitor.
“You gotta kiss, guys, or it’s bad luck!” Neil yells at them.
“Just kiss, losers!”
And soon, almost the whole dining room is chanting at them, “Kiss, kiss, kiss!” Some of them are even clapping at the rhythm of it.
She looks at Carmy. He seems genuinely terrified. Eyes wide, lips slightly parted, face red as a tomato. She feels her heart in her fucking throat.
“Syd, I–”
But she cuts him off. “Just let’s get this over with,” she says, because it’s not a big deal, isn’t it? It’s just a tradition, a superstition; anyone would’ve gotten the same treatment from their families and friends, it just happened to be them. And they just gotta give each other a kiss on the cheek. Friends do that, right?
Carmy’s throat visibly moves as he swallows. He looks like a nervous mess. “What?”
“Just let’s get this over with,” she repeats, and before he could ask any stupid questions, and before she could overthink it, she takes a step, puts her hand on his arm, and leans in, going for his left cheek.
But then he leans in, too.
He leans in, and his head follows hers, and everything is happening too fast, and there’s his hand on her waist, and he’s close, too close, and his face is at the wrong angle, what is he doing, and then–
He kisses her.
His lips are on hers, gentle and soft, and a sticky, sweet warmth spreads in her body like a thousand questions answered. Her eyes instinctively close.
But before she could react, it’s over. He pulls back, and the air on her lips feels cold. The noise of the room comes back, everyone cheering at them, clapping and laughing.
She slowly opens her eyes, and Carmy’s right there. Lips glistening softly, pupils blown, breathing heavy like he just ran around the block to get here. And she swears she must look the same, because her heart is doing something crazy inside her chest, like it wasn’t just some quick peck on the mouth but so much more.
She realizes she’s squeezing his sweater so tightly she’s sure it’s gonna show. She quickly lets go.
She swallows and, dumbly, says, “I was just gonna kiss you on the face.” She regrets it as soon as she says it, because that gentle expression on his face turns into sheer horror.
He’s mortified, she can tell, and lets his hand drop from her waist, and takes a step back so abruptly he hits his head into the doorpost behind him. “Fuck. I’m sorry, Syd, fuck, I thought–”
“No, no,” she interrupts him, “it’s totally– it’s fine, it’s fine! Literally, I don’t care.”
He frowns. “No?”
“Come on, kids, enough with the romance already, we wanna eat!” It’s Jimmy’s voice, but Sydney can’t tear her eyes off of Carmy. Fuck. She didn’t wanna sound like that.
Sydney swallows. “I mean, no, it was fine, it was nice, actually.”
His brows run up his forehead. “Nice?” And fuck, she didn’t mean it like that. Or… whatever.
Her cheeks are burning up. She needs to look away. “Shut up,” she mumbles.
“Heard,” he says, before Syd turns away from him to walk towards their table instead of continuing this awkward chat.
When they finally take their seat, and everyone started to eat, only then she lets herself steal a glance at Carmy again. And when she does, her gaze meets his.
He leans in just a bit.
“It was nice,” he whispers, then continues eating.
Syd’s heartbeat has no chance to slow down that whole wonderful, beautiful, merry night.