Page 15 of Going Viral for Christmas
Laughter erupts, along with a few scattered cheers.
I clear my throat. “Can we get back to the task at hand here?”
That smirk of his turns complete villain. “Sure. I’ve got very talented hands.”
More laughter. Audible wheezing. Shirley appears seconds away from imploding.
I glower at Soren. His brows raise, pompous as hell, and it’s a huge reminder of why we fight.Because he’s the worst!
“I’d be happy to demonstrate,” he adds. “Purely for research purposes, of course.”
The room rustles from Soren’s latest verbal crime against my sanity. I’m hanging on by the frayed thread of my dignity. Somewhere offstage, I’m positive my publicist is popping Tums like candy. Wonder if she has extra?
Trying to salvage what’s left of this panel, I clear my throatagain—because the first time didn’t cut it—and shoot Soren a withering glare that only makes his villainous smirk spread further across his face.
“Alright.” I reach for the mints, fingers trembling as though I’m defusing a bomb. “What if we tried something wild and talked about books?”
A few scattered chuckles ripple through the audience.
Soren makes a grand show of zipping his lips. “Scout’s honor.”
I huff a laugh. “You were never a scout.”
“Wanna bet?”
“Moving on,” I cut in, before that becomes a whole thing.
“Okay,” Shirley takes back control. “This next question is a more serious one.”
“We’ll behave.” I smile.
“No promises,” Soren says.
Shirley waves him off. “What kind of world do you build in your stories?”
The change in the air is immediate. Still warm. Still very much alive. But calmer. More focused.
I skim the audience—the readers clutching annotated paperbacks,wearing homemade merch, holding pieces of our books in their hands as if they’re treasures.
“The aesthetics at this event, the decorations, they’re exactly the world I try to create in my books.” My answer is all heart.
Soren watches me—quiet, curious—and for one suspended moment, the tension between us fades.
“Stories that hit like emotional comfort food,” I continue, “all the feels, with a happy ending guaranteed.”
There’s a softness in the silence that follows.
Then—
Soren snorts.
My head whips in his direction. “What?”
“I’m wondering if we’re talking about the same kind of happy ending.” He tries and fails to suppress a smile.
My jaw drops. “Oh. My. God.”
“Hey,” he replies with mock innocence. “Reader satisfaction is important. I support all forms.”
