Page 171 of Going Viral for Christmas
Men say what they need to say to get what they want.
You gave it up so freely.
This was never real.
I’m trying not to crumble while this woman beams like she just won something.
And maybe… she did.
She tilts her head, “bitch” dripping from her tone as she continues twisting that knife, “And then—what? Twenty-four hours later, he’s dating you? I mean… My God, he moves fast.”
I don’t give her the satisfaction of a visible reaction.
Ican’t.
Technically—technically—I have no right to one.The Great Booksgivinghappened over a month ago. That’s when the contract was born, long before anything real started with Soren. We weren’ttogethertogether then. And I can’t hold his past against him like I own it.
What Icando is be pissed that he lied.Reallypissed.
Fisher’s foot nudges mine under the table, trying to remind me that we’re in public and I shouldn’t stab her with my mimosa straw. He should take his own advice because he’s holding in a breath like he’s about to commit a felony with that butter knife in his hand.
I steady my voice. “So sorry you mistook your hookup for a personality.”
Fisher coughs to cover his laugh.
Clearly not used to pushback, she blinks.
“Something in your eye?” I ask.
“Enjoy it while it lasts. I’m sure he’ll get bored soon enough. Healwaysdoes. Ask his contact list.”
Soren appears behind her, hands tucked casually in his pockets, wearing an easy smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. He’s pretending not to notice the tension, like he hasn’t just stepped straight into a flaming emotional dumpster. But I see the slight feather in his jaw.
He’s trying to play it cool.
He’s not fooling me.
Soren moves around her, leans down, and kisses me on the lips, soft and quick. “I missed you. You were gone when I woke up.”
I don’t kiss him back. My whole body has gone stiff under the weight of this woman’s pretentious grin and the echo of her words still buzzing in my ears.
And now… the images start.
Uninvited. Unrelenting.
I don’twantthem, didn’taskfor them, but they’re here anyway—crashing through my mind like a montage I never wanted.
Soren pushing her up against a wall.
Her head thrown back, screaming his name like it belongs to her.
Her nails digging into his shoulders.
The cocky smirk he givesme—aimed ather.
Breathe through it, Ava. Try to focus on now—on us.
But her laugh lingers in the air like cheap perfume. And I hate how much it’s messing with my head.
