Chapter 1: Festival Temptations: An Angel and a Reindeer Exposed
The heat in the festival hall was a solid, sticky thing, cut through by the sweet, spiced smell of mulled wine and the deafening buzz of a hundred conversations. Twinkling fairy lights were strung from the rafters, casting a warm, uneven glow over everything, making the space feel both magical and suffocating.
Lara tugged at the hem of her white skirt, the material straining over her hips. It felt shorter than it had in her bedroom mirror. “I’m sweating through this top,” she muttered, leaning into Svenja’s ear to be heard. A line of dampness traced the valley between her breasts, the tight white fabric leaving little to imagination.
“You’re telling me,” Svenja breathed, adjusting the brown strap of her own top where it dug into her shoulder. The reindeer antlers headband was already giving her a headache. “My boobs are trying to escape. Publicly.” She fanned herself with a folded program, her dark eyes scanning the crowd. They moved through the packed hall like a single, shifting organism, and everywhere, glances snagged on them—quick, darting looks from other students, longer, heavier stares from some of the guys manning the booths.
Lara caught one such look from a group by the ping-pong ball toss. It wasn’t admiration. It was appraisal. She felt a flush creep up her neck, part embarrassment, part something else. She giggled, a nervous, fluttering sound. “Everyone’s staring.”
“Let them stare,” Svenja said, throwing her shoulders back with a defiant lift of her chin. The movement did dramatic things to her silhouette. “We look insane. In a good way.” She grabbed two plastic cups of glühwein from a passing table, handing one to Lara. “Liquid courage. It’s cheaper than therapy.”
The warm wine was too sweet, but it burned a pleasant path down Lara’s throat. The alcohol hit her empty stomach quickly, softening the edges of the room, amplifying the noise into a comforting roar. She felt looser, brighter. The stares became less like spotlights and more like a confirmation. She was the angel in the room. For tonight.
They weaved through the crowd, past a stall selling handmade soaps that smelled overwhelmingly of pine, past a choir murdering a Christmas carol. The air grew hotter. Svenja’s laughter got louder, more infectious. Lara matched it, tipping her head back, letting her long curls brush her exposed back. A guy in a Santa hat whistled. Svenja gave him a middle finger, her smile never dropping.
“They’re just pictures,” Svenja slurred later, leaning against the thankfully cool brick wall near the back exit. The relative quiet was a relief. “Who cares? It’s a party.”
Lara’s head was swimming pleasantly. The initial discomfort had melted into a giddy, reckless energy. The world was a warm, fuzzy vignette. “My mom would literally murder me. Dissect my corpse. Send the pieces to different continents.”
“So don’t show her,” Svenja shrugged. Her brown eyes gleamed in the dim light. A challenge. “It’s just for us. A memory. Something to laugh about when we’re, like, thirty and boring.”
Lara bit her lip. The dare hung between them, electric and stupid. She could see the flash of a phone camera from the corner of her eye, someone discreetly aiming from near the punch bowl. It should have felt like a violation. Right now, it felt like power.
“What kind of memory?” Lara asked, her voice dropping.
Svenja’s grin was wicked. She pushed off the wall, swaying slightly. “A better one. Not just standing around.” She looked around. The back hallway was deserted, a dark tunnel leading to the storage rooms and the janitor’s closet. The thump of the bass from the main hall was a distant heartbeat here.
“Follow me,” Svenja said, and it wasn’t a suggestion.
The janitor’s closet smelled of bleach and old mops. Svenja pulled her in and clicked the door shut, plunging them into near-total darkness. A sliver of light from under the door cut across their feet. Lara’s heart hammered, a frantic rhythm that had nothing to do with fear and everything to do with the illicit thrill of it.
“Okay, angel,” Svenja whispered, her breath hot against Lara’s cheek. “Let’s make it worth the risk.”
It was clumsy in the dark. Giggles mixed with the rustle of cheap costume fabric. Lara’s white top was peeled away, the air shockingly cool on her skin. Svenja’s phone emerged, its screen blinding. She fumbled with it, her thumbs slipping.
“How do you even…?”
“Just… here, give it.” Lara took the phone. Its glow lit up Svenja’s face from below, making her look otherworldly. Her reindeer antlers were crooked.
The pose was Svenja’s idea. A parody of modesty, an arm crossed over her bare chest, a pout on her lips. The click of the shutter was absurdly loud. They switched. Lara held the phone, her hands trembling slightly as Svenja tugged down the brown top, the fabric yielding to her generous curves. The screen captured the shadowed swell, the defiant glint in her eye. It felt dangerous. It felt amazing.
“One more,” Svenja breathed, her voice thick. “Together.”
They squeezed into the frame, bare shoulders pressed together, faces close. The phone’s flash erupted, a searing white blast that burned the image onto their retinas and flooded the tiny room with stark, unforgiving light.
For a second, they were frozen in the after-image, blind and breathless.
Then the doorknob rattled.
It was a harsh, metallic jiggle that sliced through the giddy silence. They froze, clutching at their costumes. A voice, muffled and male, grumbled from the other side. “Locked? Since when…”
The light under the door was blocked by two pairs of feet. Shadows shifted.
Lara’s blood turned to ice. The drunken heat evaporated, leaving a raw, naked chill. Svenja’s eyes were wide saucers of panic in the phone’s dying light. She fumbled, yanking her top up, the motion frantic and too loud.
The feet didn’t move. They just stood there. As if waiting.
A different, lower chuckle filtered through the wood. “Nah, leave it. Probably some first-years puking.”
The pressure in Lara’s chest was crushing. She couldn’t breathe. She looked down at the phone in Svenja’s shaking hand, the screen now dark. That last image was in there. The two of them, half-dressed, eyes glazed with wine and poor decisions.
The feet finally shuffled away, the sound fading down the hall.
Neither of them moved. The darkness was absolute now, and it felt different. It didn’t feel like a dare anymore. It felt like a lid closing.
Svenja let out a shaky, forced laugh. It sounded like it hurt. “Okay. That was… close.”
Lara nodded, wordlessly pulling her own top on. The fabric felt flimsy, useless. She could still see the afterglow of the flash, and in it, she saw something else: not the fun, secret memory they’d planned, but a digital ghost, captured in a stark, unflattering light. A ghost that was now trapped in a little glass and metal rectangle, waiting.
Svenja pushed the door open a crack, peering out into the empty hallway. The festive noise from the hall washed over them, but it sounded tinny and far away now, like a broadcast from another, simpler world.
“Coast is clear,” Svenja whispered, but her voice lacked all its earlier bravado. It was just a hollow sound in a dark room.
Lara followed her out, the taste of the sweet wine now sour at the back of her throat. They walked quickly, not touching, back toward the light and the noise and the crowd that suddenly felt less like an audience and more like a sea of potential witnesses. Every face seemed to look at them with new knowledge. Every phone on a table, in a hand, felt like a threat.
The momentum of the night had broken. It wasn’t pushing them forward anymore. It was just hanging there, suspended, waiting for the inevitable drop.