I woke up to yelling and the clanging of dishes. I rolled to my side to see that Tracy wasn’t that thoughtful of a roommate. Instead of making sure the door was shut, she had left the light on and the door wide open.

Knowing that there was no way I was going to be able to go back to sleep, I grumbled under my breath as I got up to go to the bathroom and brush my teeth. Back in my room, I shut the door and dressed in a pair of jeans and a red turtleneck sweater. As I pulled my hair from its braid, I ran my fingers through the waves, hoping I didn’t ruin the curls, and headed back into the hall.

Of course, fate’s cruel sense of humor thought that was the perfect time for Jacob to come out as well. His hair was damp, and he looked amazing. He was pulling his door shut behind him, and I contemplated running back into my room. But when his gaze met mine, I froze. I didn’t want him to think that I had been affected by our conversation last night, so I just gave him a smile.

“Hey,” I said.

He smiled back. But I could see that he was uncomfortable. “Sleep good?” he asked.

I nodded. “Yep.”

He ran his hands through his hair and then waved toward the stairs. “Breakfast?”

“Yep.”

He stared at me for a moment and then started down the stairs.

Once he was at the bottom, I let out the breath I’d been holding. This was going to be such an awkward vacation if this was how we were going to act around each other. I needed to get a grip. Get over my ridiculous feelings for Jacob and move on. If I didn’t, I wasn’t sure I was going to last the day.

When I got to the bottom of the stairs, I saw people moving around the kitchen. Mom and Mrs. Stephenson were making breakfast. I could smell the pancakes and bacon from where I stood.

My stomach growled as I made my way into the room, side-stepping Aiden and Max who were wrestling at the opening. Jacob was standing just outside of the kitchen as if he wasn’t sure where to go. I stopped a few inches behind him, waiting for him to move.

“Ooo, Jacob and Ava are standing under the mistletoe,” Aiden yelled.

I stared down at him to see that he’d stopped wrestling and was pointing at something above my head. “What?” I asked.

He waved toward the spot above my head. “You and Jacob are under the mistletoe. Do you know what that means?” He wrapped both arms around his chest and made a kissy face.

I scoffed and glanced up just to see that…he was right. There was a mistletoe right above Jacob and I. Red hot embarrassment coursed through my veins.

When I lowered my gaze to meet Jacob’s, I could see that he was struggling as well. His cheeks were flushed and he was having a hard time looking at me.

“We don’t—I mean, you don’t—” he stammered.

Before he could finish whatever he was struggling to get out, Mr. Stephenson tapped the corner of his newspaper onto the armchair I’d sat in yesterday and shook his head. “It’s a Christmas rule, Son,” he said.

I whipped my gaze over to him. Was he serious? He was going to make me kiss Jacob. Here? Now?

“I’m good,” I said, raising my hand and shaking my head.

“Ah, come on. It’s just a kiss.” Mom piped up as she suddenly appeared next to us.

Great. My first kiss ever, and my entire family was here to witness it. Well, not only witness it, but strong-arm the guy into doing it. I could literally feel my self-esteem sink ten feet.

When I managed to bring my gaze up to meet Jacobs, I saw a hint of desperation in his eyes. Wow, the nails to my confidence’s coffin were getting driven in deeper and deeper.

“I think we have to,” he said, stepping toward me.

Have to. Words every girl dreams of hearing right before they kiss their lifelong crush. But, knowing there was no way I could run away, I shrugged—taking an I don’t care page from Jacob’s book.

“Fine,” I said, stepping closer to him.

We stood there for only a few seconds, but they felt like a lifetime. He leaned toward me, and in a movement so fast that it left me wondering if it had really happened, he pressed his lips to mine and pulled back.

“Happy?” he asked.

I stared at him, wondering if he had really touched me. And then my heart plummeted. I was so gross to him that he couldn’t even kiss me. This was horrible.

“That was the most ridiculous kiss I’ve ever seen,” Mr. Stephenson said. “Do it again. Show her how a Stephenson kisses.”

I turned to glare at Mr. Stephenson, but if he noticed, he didn’t care. He just set his jaw and stared Jacob down.

“Oh, no. I think it’s the other way around, Ava should show Jacob how a Rogers kisses.” Mom stepped closer to me, moving her hands together as if directing how it should be done.

And then I realized that my first kiss had become a competition. Stephenson versus Rogers. Who was going to kiss the best? This was all sorts of weird, but when our parents got an idea in their head, they weren’t going to let it go.

“I’m not sure I want this to be a competition,” Jacob said. His voice was quiet. He looked about as uncomfortable as I felt.

“Come on, Son. It’s just a kiss,” Mrs. Stephenson said as she appeared next to us.

I glanced over at Jacob, whose eyebrows knitted together and jaws flexed like he wanted to say something.

“Mom,” he said under his breath.

I’d had enough of this nonsense. I was tired of trying to analyze everything Jacob was doing. I liked him and I was going to kiss him, dang it. I was going to blow his socks off in true Rogers’s fashion—whatever that was.

Reaching up, I grabbed each of his cheeks and pulled his lips down to mine. Tingles erupted across my body and shot out of my toes as I held him there.

Then, as if he’d finally realized what I was doing, his hands felt their way to my sides and slid to my back as he pulled me closer.

Seconds turned to hours as we stood there, lips pressed together. I could hear hoots and hollers from the bystanders, but I didn’t care. All I could think about was Jacob.

I moved my hands to thread my fingers through his hair and deepen the kiss. Our lips moved against each other as if this came as naturally as breathing. In all my daydreams of kissing Jacob, they hadn’t come close to the exhilarating feeling that raced through me now.

Just when I was sure I was going to melt into a puddle, he pulled back.

“There,” he said, pushing me away with his hands.

I stumbled back, watching him as he ducked his head and disappeared into the kitchen. I pressed my fingertips against my lips as I watched his hasty retreat. As much as I hated to admit it, my heart literally broke inside of my chest. There had been something in that kiss. Something that he had to have felt too. Why was he walking away from me? Why was he still acting like he didn’t care?

Mom patted my back and told me, “That’s how a Rogers does it.” Weird. I moved away because I really didn’t feel like celebrating with her. There was nothing joyous about kissing a guy you’d cared about for years, just to have him push you away and storm off.

Had I done something wrong?

And then I felt stupid. Of course I’d done something wrong. Didn’t Jacob say I was naive? I had never kissed someone before. For all I knew, I’d bit him or something.

The crowd that had formed around us to witness our kiss dispersed, and soon I was left alone with my thoughts. Great. Just what I needed.

I wrapped my arm around my stomach and slowly moved into the kitchen. Jacob was sitting at the table with his back to me. Grateful that I would have a moment away from him to gather my thoughts, I turned to Mom, who was dishing up a plate of eggs for me.

She was talking to Mrs. Stephenson about the plan for the day.

Suddenly, Mrs. Stephenson let out a groan. “Who ate the cookies that we were going to dip in chocolate and use to decorate the gingerbread houses?” she asked, holding up the tin of cookies that Jacob and I had consumed the night before.

I moved to step forward and take responsibility, but Jacob beat me to it. He turned around and pointed to himself.

“I did,” he said.

It hurt my heart how fast Mrs. Stephenson’s expression changed. It went from annoyed to angry. And for some strange reason, rage coursed through me. Why was she like this with Jacob? She had to know her own son. Sure, he’d just rejected me after our first kiss, but that didn’t make him a bad guy.

And it made me so angry that his mother couldn’t see that.

“Why would you do that? Didn’t you learn anything about taking stuff that isn’t yours?” Mrs. Stephenson dropped the tin down onto the counter and folded her arms.

Jacob just shrugged. “Sorry,” he said and turned back to his food.

I stepped forward. There was no way he was going to take all the blame when it was my fault. “Actually, Mrs. Stephenson, it was me.”

Mrs. Stephenson glanced over and gave me a sympathetic look. She’d been so mad at Jacob, why were her eyes wide and her forehead relaxed when she was looking at me? I’d just admitted to eating the apparently special cookies “It’s okay, sweetheart. You don’t have to take the blame.” Then she leaned in toward me. “I understand that Jacob can seem like someone you want to protect, but he’s never going to learn if we don’t hold him accountable.”

My mouth dropped open. Did she seriously just say that? About her own son? Sure, my parents weren’t perfect, but they always gave us the benefit of the doubt. This—what Mrs. Stephenson was doing—was just mean.

“Well, you should be upset with me because I ate them as well,” I said, but Mrs. Stephenson looked as if she’d already moved on. She just gave me a small smile and turned back to Jacob.

“You’ll be going back into town to buy another tin of cookies,” she said to the back of Jacob’s head.

His shoulders tightened, and then he relaxed as he grabbed his plate of food and stood. “Fine,” he said as he walked past her and dumped his dishes into the sink.

I watched, dumbfounded as he passed by me. Andrew, who must have just woke up from the way his blond hair was standing up in all directions, was standing in the doorway watching us. Jacob didn’t attempt to slip past him, instead, he rammed Andrew’s shoulder and then disappeared upstairs.

I was so mad that there weren’t any words that I could think to say. How could someone’s own mother treat them that way?

And apparently, I was the only one who cared, because in no time at all, the normal kitchen conversations returned. Everyone was acting like nothing had happened.

I clenched my fists as I made my way toward the opening of the kitchen where Andrew still stood, looking a little flabbergasted.

Right when I passed by, Andrew grabbed my arm.

“What’s going on?” he asked.

I glanced over at him, annoyed that he was getting in my way. “Mrs. Stephenson just freaked out on Jacob because we ate the tin of cookies that they were saving.” I had to force my voice to remain calm—that’s how angry I was.

Andrew’s gaze ran over my face. “Where are you going, then?”

I stared at him. He had to see how unfairly Jacob’s parents were treating him. “That wasn’t cool. I’m going to make sure that I go along with Jacob.” I leaned into Andrew. “I ate the cookies, but Mrs. Stephenson didn’t care. She told me to stop defending Jacob. That ‘he’ll never learn’ or something.”

Andrew’s jaw set—he seemed just as upset as I was. Good. He finally understood why I was mad.

And then words I didn’t expect to hear tumbled out of his mouth. “Maybe you should just stay away from him, Ava. His mom knows best.”

I took a step back, pulling my arm from Andrew’s grasp. “What are you talking about?”

He shrugged as he pushed his hands through his hair. “Maybe Mrs. Stephenson knows how to handle Jacob. Maybe she’s right.”

I stared at him. “Mrs. Stephenson was wrong to treat Jacob that way.”

Andrew’s cheeks reddened as he cleared his throat. “I guess I just don’t want to see you get hurt,” he mumbled.

I shook my head and passed by him. I was tired of listening to him. What was with the people in this house? It was like I was living in the twilight zone.

Jacob came pounding down the stairs just as I passed by. I scrambled to catch up with him, but he was too fast. He had the front door open and closed before I could get any words out.

I grabbed my boots and coat and ran out after him.

“Jacob,” I called out. Slushy snow seeped into my socks, but I didn’t care.

“Leave it, Ava,” he called over his shoulder. He had his keys out and was unlocking the driver’s door of his parents’ van.

Not listening, I raced over to the passenger door and pulled it open. He grumbled, but I didn’t care. Instead, I hopped up into the seat and shut the door.

Determination rushed through me as I stared him down. He just looked at me with his brow furrowed, pain written across his face.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

I tightened my seatbelt. “I’m coming with you.”

He paused and then sighed. “Fine.”