Felicity's POV.
The walk back to the dorm felt endless. Snow drifted all around us, soft and quiet, but all I could see was his face. His eyes on mine. His breath so close. The way the world had stopped on that bridge, just for us.
My boots crunched against the ground, but inside I felt weightless and heavy all at once. My chest hurt in a good way, like my heart was too full, too loud. Almost. Almost kissed. Almost his.
I bit my lip and stared at my hands. My fingers twisted inside my gloves, pressing against my lap, hoping he couldn't see how badly they shook. My chest felt tight. My heart wouldn't calm down. I kept replaying it over and over—the way his eyes had burned into mine, the way his head had tilted, the way my whole body leaned without thinking. One step closer and everything would have changed.
Christopher walked beside me, silent. His jaw was tight, his shoulders tense, like he was holding something back. His hands stayed buried in his coat pockets, but I saw the way his fingers curled into fists. I knew he wanted to say something. I wanted to say something too. But the silence hung heavy between us, like a wall neither of us dared to break.
But I didn't. And he didn't. The silence stretched between us, thick and fragile at the same time. I stared at the ground, but my mind stayed on the bridge. On him. Always on him.
My heart pounded so loud I swore he could hear it. Every time our eyes met, we both looked away, pretending the air wasn't humming and our hearts weren't beating, it was ridiculous. It was awkward—painfully awkward. The kind of silence that made you want to laugh and cry at the same time. Then, all at once, he stopped walking.
"Chris?" I whispered, my breath fogging in the cold.
He turned, his eyes locking with mine—intense, unreadable, yet pulling me in. My chest tightened, the world holding its breath. Then, without a word, he leaned in and kissed me. It wasn't planned or perfect—it was clumsy, desperate, completely out of the blue.
But the moment his lips touched mine, time seemed to stop and the world spun all at once. My knees went weak, my hands clutched his coat, and he drew me closer, his hand brushing my cheek as if I were something fragile, something precious. At first it was quick, hesitant, but I stayed. He stayed. And in that quiet, it felt like the whole world had disappeared, leaving only us. My heart whispered, finally.
The kiss lingered, his lips warm against the icy air. My knees nearly gave out, and I clutched his coat as he pulled me closer—one hand at my cheek, the other steady at my waist. My whole body shivered, not from the cold, but from him. Time stretched—breathless, messy, endless.
When he finally pulled back, his voice was low.
'I couldn't help it,' he murmured. 'I had to.'
I blinked at him, dazed. 'W-what was that for?' I whispered, though inside my heart screamed: Do it again. Please do it again.
He smirked, just a little, like he already knew. Then we both started laughing—because it was weird, messy, and so us. The kind of laugh you couldn't stop even if you tried. When we finally walked again, the silence wasn't heavy anymore. It was charged, alive.
And then—because the universe clearly hated me—
'Well, well, well.'
We broke apart like guilty teenagers. Penelope stood a few feet away, arms crossed, grinning like she'd just walked in on the season finale of her favorite show. Her eyes went wide, and of course she noticed everything—his clenched jaw, my flushed face, the storm still hanging in the air between us.
'Uh-oh,' she said softly. 'Did something happen?'
'I—no. Nothing,' I stammered, but my voice cracked on that last word. Nothing. And yet it was everything.
"Are you seriously, kissing in the middle of a snowstorm?" Penelope practically shouted, then she clasped her hands dramatically, eyes sparkling and she actually started humming wedding bells. "Dun-dun-dun-dunnn! Oh my Gosh, this is it! This is the moment! I need to order hats, maybe even book a chapel—do they do express weddings in Oxford?"
"Penelope!" I yelped, my cheeks burning as her voice echoed down the snowy path."
She only grinned wider. 'Not what it looks like? Sweetheart, it always looks like something."
Here's a neat, simple merged version that keeps all the best bits—Chris's groan, Penelope's teasing, and the humor:
Chris groaned, dragging a hand over his face. "Brilliant. Bloody brilliant."
Penelope smirked, phone in hand like she might snap a picture. "Relax, I won't post it…yet. But oh my gosh, this is better than Netflix. Do you know how long I've been waiting for this soap opera to finally kiss? Ages. Literal ages. And now here we are—snow, tension, a kiss straight out of a romance novel. Ugh, perfection."
I buried my face in my hands. Chris muttered something very British under his breath that sounded a lot like kill me now. Penelope just laughed, loud and dramatic, echoing across the courtyard like she was auditioning for a rom-com.
Penelope raised a brow but didn't push. She just gave me a look that said she knew more than I admitted.
"Can you give me a ride, thank you?" she asked.
"Yeah, sure," Chris replied.
"Good night, Fel," they both chorused.
"Good night, love you guys," I said.
That night, when I was finally alone, I pressed my face into the pillow. My chest ached, my stomach turned. In a whisper meant only for the dark, I confessed, "I wanted him to kiss me again." The words were bitter and sweet all at once. I hugged the pillow tighter, pretending it was him.
And my heart answered back, loud and certain: I still do.
>>>>>
Mia's POV.
At the palace, Mia tossed her phone on the bed with a wicked little smile.
Perfect timing. She didn't even need to read his reply—because he hadn't replied. She could already imagine the look on Felicity's face when that buzz shattered their little snow-globe moment.
"Did I break your fairytale, darling?" Mia said to no one, stretching like a cat. "Good."
She twirled a strand of hair around her finger, already planning her next move. A simple buzz wasn't enough. Not nearly enough. If she wanted Christopher back—and she did—then Felicity needed to be reminded of her place.
Mia leaned over her vanity, applying another coat of lip gloss. "Poor little Felicity," she murmured at her reflection. "Always chasing what isn't yours."
Then she laughed. A sharp, glittery laugh that filled the room. Because the truth was, Mia didn't just want Christopher. She wanted to win. And she wasn't about to lose to someone like Felicity.