Page 114 of Going Viral for Christmas
“Watch that mouth, Ava,” Mandy scolds.
Ava’s expression isn’t embarrassment, more shame, frustration, maybe even fear—a reaction that only happens when someone hits too close to the truth with her.
Mandy steps closer. “No,” tone matter-of-fact, “but you do need toseeit. His choice means something. He’s not chasing attention. He’s chasing you. And denying the version of himself the world expects. Maybe it’s because he’s found someone worth changing it for.”
A pause. Then, the kicker.
“Maybeyouare that change.”
Ava’s eyes water before she can stop them, and for a moment, the room holds its breath.
“We barely know each other,” Ava counters.
Shaking her head, Mandy chuckles. “Still trying to hide behind those walls, baby? You get to decide. Stay safe and alone. Or risk it for someone who could be everything to you.”
Mandy turns to pour the tea, humming a tune under her breath.
I stay put. Breath shallow, feet frozen to the floor. What I just witnessed wasn’t meant for me, but it sure as hell wasaboutme.
Per her usual, Ava’s scared. Walled up. But she’s thinking.Considering.
I’ll fucking take it. And when she’s ready—actuallyready–I’ll be there. This one’s worth it. Every biting edge of her.
In the meantime, I’ve got a new mission: Find out who the fuck Jon is. Then figure out whether to send him a thank-you card or break his nose.
Maybe both. Depends on the story.
Nineteen
AVA
It’s been a week since our Thanksgiving visit. A week since a one-bed trope, mashed potatoes, treehouse kisses, and a viral video–the one where Soren had me lifted off the ground, legs wrapped around his waist, my back pressed to a wall, one thrust away from total indecency.
The internet went sexually ballistic. Comment sections melted. Reaction videos flooded ShelfSpace. And, because the universe enjoys my pain, couples everywhere started recreating it.
Bell and The Bladeis a full-blown trend, complete with slow-motion thirst edits, bad lighting, and a few ER visits from overzealous reenactments.
Our farewell from the Bell household included my mom tearing up, Emily emailing Soren a copy of her manuscript with a wink emoji, and G-Ma whispering, “Don’t come back unless you’re engaged or she’s glowing—and I don’t mean from bronzer. Create a scandal, Soren!”
Little does she know we already are.
Fisher filmed the whole goodbye scene and posted it with the caption:The In-Lawlessness.
The internet didn’t just eat it up—they licked the plate clean and asked for seconds.
But the real breakout star?
G-Ma.
Within twenty-four hours, she launched her own ShelfSpace account–@GlitterAndGumption—and gained over two hundred thousand followers.
Her tagline:“Hot takes, hotter grandmothers, and arthritis-friendly spice recs.”
She’s already reviewing both our books, giving unsolicited sex advice in the comments, and threatening Soren (affectionately) in DMs. She’s somehow better at social media than all of us.
After that, Soren flew home to Seattle, a city wrapped in mist and contradiction. Rain-slicked streets, neon signs buzzing in the dark, indie bookstores tucked between glass towers, and coffee shops named after sea monsters or obscure literary references.
I flew back to my little neck of the woods outside Boston, to the cottage I bought when my first advance cleared. I call it solitude. Emily calls it avoidance. Tomato, to-mah-to.
