Page 111 of Going Viral for Christmas
WHAM.
A loudclangreverberates as the frame of a poorly mounted dartboard rattles off the wall and lands squarely on our heads.
Jerking back with a grunt, I manage to set her down gently. “Mother—ow!”
Giggling, Ava’s hands fly to her mouth. “Oh my God, did the wall just attack us?”
“Apparently, the bar is anti-PDA.”
Ava starts laughing harder, even as she tries to apologize. “I’m sorry! I didn’t see it! I was too busy?—”
“Kissing me senseless?”
She stops to take a breath. “Yeah.”
I sigh dramatically, rubbing the sore spot. “Worth it.”
She brushes invisible dust from my shirt–an excuse to touch me, which lights me up.
“You sure?”
I eye her. “Depends. Are we done?”
Fisher’s voice cuts in, “And post.”
We both freeze.
“ShelfSpace is gonna eat that one up,” he adds, followed by the unmistakable sound of a wink in his tone.
Ava stiffens. Within seconds, the moment transforms into one that’s no longer ours.
She steps back a fraction. Her smile dims, not all the way, but the sparkle behind it definitely dulls. Like a beautiful flower that got plucked too soon.
I don’t say anything because I get it now. She wanted that moment for herself. Now it belongs to everyone.
After the kiss at the bar—the onesheinitiated, the oneIwish never stopped—Ava got weird.
In the car, she insisted the boys sit up front while the girls rode in the back. She didn’t say a word on the drive home. Emily and Fisher did all of the talking.
When we got back to her family’s, the four of us all sat around the fire pit for hours, trading stories. Emily slipped in details about college Ava—wild streaks and hidden rebellion I wanted to pocket and keep for myself.
Eventually, Emily declared she was heading home. Then, Fisher, being Fisher, eventually proclaimed he was going to “take care of hisblue balls” and disappeared inside, leaving me and Ava in the glow of dying embers.
That’s when she did this fake yawn and said she was heading to bed. I let her go. Put out the fire. Gave it some time.
I finally made my way upstairs, crawled in beside her, careful to get as close as I could without crossing into creepy. She slept on her side, her breathing even, lashes fanned across her cheeks. I wanted to wrap myself around her, pull her close, but I settled for brushing a kiss against her temple.
“Thank you,” I whispered so quietly it dissolved into the dark. “For tonight. For letting me in a little. For kissing me. For not running.”
The words kept spilling, tiny confessions meant for her walls. “You undo me, Bells, more than you know. You feel like home. And I don’t even care if you never hear this, because at least I finally said it.”
Her chest rose and fell steadily, untouched by my restless truths. And still, I stayed there, staring at the ceiling, one arm tucked behind my head, wondering how I could spend an eternity next to her.
When I wake, darkness seals the room–a velvet curtain pulled tight across the world. Silence hangs between walls creaking with the heaviness of night and old bones settling in the house.
My hand reaches across the bed on instinct, searching the far side.
Empty. Cold.
