Page 99 of Going Viral for Christmas
“I told you last night.” Her eyes stay locked on mine, broken and angry.
“Who did this?”
“Nobody of importance.”
I exhale, slow and tight.
She treats it as though it’s nothing. Like it didn’t shape the way she pushes people out, the way she builds walls with jokes and barbed wire.
It mattered. Enough to break her.
The only thing that comes close to the truth is clawing up my throat. I let out. “They were important enough to make you shut down. Important enough to make you wall up every time someone else tries to care. Important enough to make you doubt everyone.” I pause. Let it sink in. Let herhearme. My hand twitches at my side, aching to reach for her, but not daring to push too hard. “So don’t tell me they weren’t important, Bells. Because I’m fighting their ghost every time I get close to you.”
“You’re right,” she says immediately.
That surprises me. “What?”
“Someone made me feel safe.” She turns slightly, angling away from me. “Right before they taught me that I wasn’t. Not with them. Or anyone for that matter.”
That isn’t an explanation. It’s a wound. I want to hold every delicate, shattered piece of it. Even if she never lets me, I still want to try.
Someone made me feel safe. Right before they taught me that I wasn’t.There was no anger in her voice when she said it. Only this quiet pain, showing she’s not bleeding anymore, but she carries the scar around, denying anyone else the chance to trace the outline.
And she and I, we stay there, locked in a stare with the air between us tightening, heavy with the sins of others.
My skin prickles. My pulse kicks. Ava views me as though I’m a cliff’s edge—one dangerous step toward disaster. But what she doesn’t see is that sometimes a cliff isn’t a fall. Sometimes it’s a view. A leap. The only way to learn you were built to fly.
There’s a question in her eyes that gives me hope:Would falling hurt more than standing still?
I want to close the space. I want to fix it. I want to take the rough edges that cut into her and replace them with something soft.
So, I try…again.
“You say you won’t survive it,” I repeat her words. “Then let me show you how to live in it instead.”
The tiny space between her brows creases.
One more inch.
Lifting my hand, I don’t touch her, I hover—waiting forherto close the distance. “Be scaredwithme.”
Ava doesn’t move. Or speak. But she doesn’t run either. That’s enough for now. Even if she still won’t let her guard down, the tremble in her breath is unmistakable. She’s trapping a storm. But I’m going to help her tame it.
Ava’s slender fingers twitch, her fists clench and loosen at her sides, as if she’s one second from grabbing me by the collar—or bolting. It honestly could go either way.
The air between us buzzes, charged with a volatile, dangerous electricity neither of us can run from.
“I’m not the enemy, Ava,” I say, my voice a little gruff. “I promise.”
“I know,” she whispers, almost too soft to hear. Then, after a pause, Ava twists my heart with, “I am.”
The words hollow me out. And all I can think, standing there in thewreckage of her self-blame, is that I’d give anything to show her she’s wrong. That she’s worthy. And I want her to be mine to protect.
“No.” I brush her cheek with the backs of my fingers. “Look, I crossed the line. And you’ve seen the way I am with fans and heard the rumors. Read the headlines. We started this under false pretenses, sure—but I would love it if you could try to get to know therealSoren Pembry. Because I sure as hell want to know you, Ava Bell.”
She still doesn’t move. I lower my hand between us. Ava stares down at it.
“Hi,” I say, with a small smile that’s far too sincere. “I’m Soren Pembry. Yes, that’s my real name. I’m a huge fan of your work. I’ve made some shitty choices in the past, as you’ve seen broadcast across the internet, but I’dreallylove to show you someone different.”
