❝ YOU KISS EVERYONE ON THIS LIST,
AND I RESIGN FROM THE TEAM. ❞
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
༊*·˚ 💌 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭
in which one adolescent bet
results in bianca larsson, not
only kissing twenty-one of her
classmates, but realising...
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bonus chapter, A VERY MERRY CHRISTMAS
✧ ━━━ · ✦ · ━━━ ✧
"HONEY, I'M HOME!"
Bianca is all for clichés now. She looks back on her teenage years and blames it on immaturity ─ a lack of understanding of the extent and profoundness of real, long-lasting love. Now, well into her twenties, she craves every little romantic banality whenever possible. The cheesier the better.
Maybe it's just the hormones.
And so, hearing her boyfriend announcing his arrival after a day of work, while she mashes potatoes and feeds the pets ─ Randy, the golden retriever kindly being gifted some leftover minced meat ─ was like a dream. A very very corny movie that probably made next to nothing at the box office and yet is loved by thousands.
Sliding the dish of ready-to-be-cooked Shepherd's pie onto the top deck of the oven, its creamy potato grooves Bianca's pride and joy, Bianca wandered out into the hallway to make sure Adrian wasn't leaving dirt tracks on the wooden floor.
"I still don't understand why they made you work on Christmas Eve," Bianca cocked her head to the side more as a warning to her boyfriend so that he scraped the mud from his shoes onto the mat, not around the house.
Adrian shrugged as he slid off his coat, hat, and scarf making sure not to dump them on the banister now he was under scrutiny from Bianca. "Season starts soon. Can't miss even one practice."
Adrian had been signed to the Appleby Arrows almost straight out of Hogwarts as a reserve. And by the time he and his best friend, Graham Montague had hit twenty-four, they were two of the best chasers in the British and Irish Quidditch League.
Bianca prided herself on having a famous boyfriend.
And Adrian couldn't be prouder of Bianca too. She had been Editor in Chief for the Daily Prophet for almost four years and was transforming the paper into a truthful, down-to-earth political weapon that no longer published gossiping garbage.
It would be truthful in saying they had both made a name for themselves.
Changing the topic, Adrian slipped off his shoes, slung an arm around Bianca, and led them both toward the kitchen. "Something smells good."
"Of course it does," she replied. "I made it."
Chuckling, Adrian spun her inwards with the arm that still rested over her shoulder, and tucked her under his chin. After planting a quick gentle kiss on her lips, Adrian lifted a brown grocery bag to eye level.
