Meet Me Underneath The Mistletoe Novels & Stories

Undecim's chosen spot was out of camera view. In that corner, Olivia arranged green leaves to form a zero. The hidden message was, "Let's meet tomorrow night at midnight."

I had a long dream. I dreamed of the first time I met Caleb. Seventeen. I was in pre-med at a university in New York. That night, I'd left the library just past midnight and cut through the alley behind campus. That's when I heard it—someone breathing hard in the dark. I walked closer. A man was slumped against the wall, right hand pressed to his left shoulder, dark blood seeping between his fingers. He looked up. Under the moonlight, his face was pale and sharp, forehead slick with sweat—but his eyes were steady.

Inside. I watched rainwater drip from the stone edge of the colonnade in slow, silver lines. *Worse than I expected,* I admitted. *Smaller than the cafeteria. But sharper in stupid ways.* His answer came immediately. *Because it’s constant.* *Yes.* A pause. Then: *Meet me at the lower archive steps in ten minutes. Public enough to satisfy the gods of procedure. Private enough to look at you properly.* My pulse jumped. *Jason—* *Ten minutes, Rose.*

Ready to read what the note said to her. “Meet me up at block 107, downtown venue, you’ll see a bar and then a tavern, you go into the tavern, ask Jana. And you’re gonna meet me. Don’t tell anyone where you’re going and make sure your phone is turned off so they won’t be able to track you. Don’t forget tomorrow at 8 pm.” Why would they track her? It didn’t make any sense that she would be tracked by anyone. She continued reading. “...Don’t forget you must not let anyone know. And don’t call me, I’ll call you. Jana.”

What was it about the tree? "Mistletoe!" He said in a rough, slightly hoarse voice. Oh. Right. In fact, I was staring at it. Two sets of artificial and real mistletoes hanging beneath bright red bows that were secured to the branch. My neck hurt now, but I didn't wish to avert my eyes from the tree. I didn't want to meet his gaze. "Means we have to kiss." A quick glance, and I caught him shrug as he explained.

Don't visualize hanging him with just his earlobes on the edge of a bridge over an ocean filled with hungry dick-eating sharks- ah, too late. "But-" Mr. Asshole drawled out, pulling me out of my murderous thoughts. "But since you begged and-" "I didn't beg." "-We are supposed to be a newly-engaged couple," he continued, ignoring my statement. "I guess one dance won't hurt. Right, Miss. Greene?" His smirk stretched and he held out his right palm, silently invit- sorry, ordering me.

He’s coming. “Meet me in the forest behind the castle grounds next Friday at midnight,” I whisper hastily into the phone. Before Cayden can answer, I hang up and shove my phone in my pocket just as Atwood knocks on the door. My heart is racing and I leap to the bed, picking up a book and opening to a random page before answering. “Come in.” The door cracks open slightly to reveal just as I thought: Atwood standing there, looking somewhat concerned. He hesitantly steps into the room and looks at the cover of my book for a moment before speaking.

I held up one of the vases filled with purple hydrangea, lavender and bluebells. "sure. It's match with your name" I returned to my room at night after eating the dinner. Ema went into the kitchen and I walked over to the glass window about to gaze at the beautiful moonlight when I found a piece of paper. What's this? I opened it and it said 'Meet me under the apple tree in a quiet corner of the garden. Do it or you'll regret it' I squeezed it back. Who sent it? I don't like being threatened or ordered. And receiving a letter like this only makes me want to go to who sent it and beat him up.

Just as long as they don't hit the right chords, I'd be fine; ecstatic even. But then again, too much won't be good, and I have proof of that. My Aunt decided to set me up with Matt. And Allen, the ever generous alien, had called the person mentioned immediately, telling him that the gang planned to meet at Bob's Café in Lacson Street by four in the afternoon. So basically, despite my outward protest and insistence that I couldn't meet up with him, I had no other choice. At precisely 4, I was fairly seated outside Bob's Café, defying my Aunt's insistence that I should stay inside to not ruin my powder-y face with sweat.

“I hope he is handsome, rich, and unmated. If you are going to be saddled with a male who gets to drink your blood for the rest of your life, the least the gods can do is make him pleasing to look at.” “I do not care for such things,” I told her. “Well, I do,” Helory stated, without shame. “You were specific in your letter, right? About the meeting place?” “Let us meet beneath the Union Tree, within the woods of Perching Hollow, as the sun begins its descent, at the fourth bell,” I recited.