Page 134 of Going Viral for Christmas
Touch-close.
His body heat seeps into me. Cedar and the faintest trace of eucalyptus hovers in the air between us. His thigh brushes mine. The contact is barely there, but my whole body reacts to it.
We don’t speak, but the urge to touch him is loud. While he sits next to me, undemanding, not pressing—justthere, I decide that in this quiet little pocket of borrowed time, to let it in, and let it stay.
Maybe it’s the firelight. Or the wine. Or perhaps it’s him. The man who doesn’t run. The one who listens.
Sitting back, I press play and breathe.
We watch. We laugh. I forgot how this could all end in heartbreak and hate. For now, it’s happening for one night.
Problem is, I’m already craving the next.
We’re twenty minutes intoTwilightwhenithappens.
I don’t mean the sparkling or the light stalking or the confusing biology class stare-down.
No, I’m talking about theincident.
It begins innocently enough—me quietly judging Bella’s complete inability to operate a backpack, and Soren making some sarcastic comment about how Edward’s hair has more volume than the earth’s atmosphere.
I respond in the only reasonable way: by flinging a skittle that hits him square in the chest.
He gasps like I’ve wounded him. “Youassaultedme with a candy pellet!”
“It was yellow. Calm down. No one likes the yellow ones.”
“You monster.” Soren clutches his chest dramatically. “Lemon is my weakness.”
“You’re thinking of vampires, Pembry.”
“Them too,” he replies, digging a hand into the popcorn bowl for retaliation.
Before I can duck, I’m pelted with several rapid-fire kernels. One bounces off my cheek. One disappears into the couch cushions. The third rolls down my shirt on a journey of self-discovery.
“Uncalled for,” I say, batting at my sweater.
“You fired the first shot.”
“That was flirtation. You escalated it.”
Cocky, and unrepentant, Soren grins. “Well, you should’ve known I’d retaliate. I’m the fantasy villain, remember?”
Reaching into the popcorn bowl, I grab a handful and rain them down over his head. Most fall into his lap, but one stays in his hair. We both burst into laughter.
After a minute or so in the trenches of our popcorn battle, we declare a truce and collapse back onto the couch, limbs slightly tangled, the space between us smaller now. Popcorn crunches beneath me, but I don’t care. It’s scotchguarded.
On screen, Edward is giving Bella a speech about monsterhood while brooding from a tree branch as a tragic gargoyle.
“You know…” I half-smile. “For all its cringiness, there’s something kind of sweet about Twilight.”
Soren raises an eyebrow. “Sweet? Please elaborate on what part of this paranormal stalking saga you find sweet.”
“Charlie.”
That gives him pause.
“He’s awkward and a little emotionally unavailable, but he shows up. Makes her dinner. Checks her truck, cares, without needing credit.”
