Page 46 of Going Viral for Christmas
Ava.
Hand buried.Sorenon her lips.
I pump once. Twice. A breath escapes me. She’s behind my eyes, hips shifting, breath catching, thighs trembling.
I’m circling the edge of control, tugging harder now, chasing the same high she found when she thought no one was watching.
Ding.
The sound cuts through the room.
Anotherding.
I groan. My phone starts ringing. I grab it, turn it over. Matthew.
He can go to voicemail.
I wrap my hand tight around myself, chest heaving when yet anotherfuckingtext message comes through. Matthew.
We have a problem. Call me. Now.
Of course we do. And of course it happens when I’m several strokes deep into a fantasy about the woman I’mfakinga relationship with.
Nothing like real-world drama knocking at the door and a very real, very hard problem in my hand.
I exhale, then grab my phone. “Fuck.”
I swipe the notification and hit call. Matthew picks up on the first ring.
He doesn’t bother with hello. That Lena chick posted something. She’s not naming names, but it’sdamn close.”
My gut knots. “What do you mean,close.”
“She tagged a ‘certain sword-wielding author’ and said, quote, ‘It’s not okay when someone uses power, popularity, and charm to seduce during a professional collaboration—then tosses you aside like it never happened. Being magnetic doesn’t excuse treating people like they’re disposable.’”
The floor tilts beneath me.
“Jesus Christ,” I mutter. “I told you—we hooked uponce, last year at the Christmas in July series. She came on to meagainat the SummerweenFestival a few months ago, but I shut it down. She’s sent a few texts since, but I haven’t answered.”
“Good. Don’t. This is Lena we’re talking about. She doesn’t throw shade. She constructs narratives. And right now, she’s laying the foundation for a damn exposé. Comments are stacking up—people are connecting dots that were never even in the same damn coloring book.”
I start pacing the hotel suite like a lion in a trap. “She’s pissed because I told her no.”
“No,” Matthew corrects flatly. “She’s pissed because she showed up to your signing in a corset dress and six-inch stilettos, tried to kiss you, and you turned her down as though she was a drink you didn’t order. You bruised her ego, man.”
I rub the back of my neck. “I didn’t want to make a scene. So yeah, I pulled her aside. Told her we were nothing. I gave no mixed signals. There was no flirty bullshit. Only the truth.”
“And now she’s framing it how she wants it.”
“She’s trying to twist this into something it isn’t because I didn’t want her.”
“And according to the internet, you’ve got someone new, beautiful, and not her. Hate to break it to you, man, but hell hath no fury like a scorned ShelfSpacer.”
“Not funny.”
“Didn’t say it was.” Matthew sighs through the phone. “Just pointing out the obvious.”
I drop onto the chair by the window. My elbows hit my knees, and I press my palms into my temples. “What the hell do I do?”
