Page 133 of Going Viral for Christmas
While I’m milling about, Soren turns the pillow over like it holds ancient secrets, studying it thoroughly.
“‘Naughty but nice,’” he reads aloud, amused. “Is this a seasonal threat or a year-round lifestyle?”
“Depends on the wine,” I shoot back.
“Then go ahead and pour yourself a glass, Bells.”
The microwave beeps. I pour the popcorn into a ridiculously festive bowl covered in holiday cheer, because I’ve surrendered to the aesthetic.
When I turn around, he’s pointing at a bottle of red on the counter.
“This one okay?” The corner of his mouth lifts. “Does it do the trick?”
Biting my lower lip, I nod and hand him the corkscrew.
Soren uncorks it with surprising grace. Two generous pours. A man who knows exactly what kind of night he wants this to be. Except—what if I’m the only one wanting it to go that way?
We return to the couch. I sit while he sets the glasses onto the coffee table, then Soren drops next to me like a man who’s found salvation. He exhales, melting deeper into the plush.
“Okay, this couch is suspiciously comfortable.” His legs stretch out. “Is it enchanted? Do I live here now?”
I cue up the movie. “Only if you behave.”
“Then, I’m definitely getting evicted.”
Soren squints at the screen. “Is thisTwilight?”
“Absolutely, and if we’re up to it,New Moon.”
“I—” He covers his mouth. He might be having a moment. “Youchosethis?”
“Oh, I did. And we’re doing commentary.”
His eyes are wide with pure, unfiltered delight. “I get to roast this with you?”
“Obviously. But only after proper reverence is shown for the riotous cinematic masterpiece that is Taylor Lautner’s wig progression.”
“Ava Bell, you’re a genius. You know, they filmed it near my stomping ground.”
I take a handful of popcorn. “I thought you lived in Seattle?”
A smirk pulls at his mouth, and it’s deeply attractive. “Doing research on me, Bells?”
“I’m thorough.”
Soren chuckles. “Every year, I rent a cabin close to the coast. Peaceful. Inspiring. Near some of my favorite bookstores.”
Opening a bag of Skittles, I try not to show how much that image undoes me. A rented cabin on the coast. The salt-stung air, waves crashing against weathered rocks, a fireplace spitting sparks while the world outside falls away. No panels, promos, or people pulling at the edges of me. The thought fills me so completely it feels like it’s pressing my palm to something warm and endearing.
“I will never confirm nor deny that I’ve stayed in Bella’s House.”
My head snaps toward him. “Bella’s House? The one that’s booked through 2050?”
His voice drops, and it makes everything inside me go still. “Have you not figured me out by now? I don’t accept defeat. I can find my way around any obstacle.”
I know he’s not talking about vacation rentals, so I do the mature thing and whip a pillow at him.
Soren catches it with one hand. Effortless. Annoyinglysmooth. He doesn’t throw it back. Instead, he sets it aside, then shifts closer on the couch.
