Page 52 of Going Viral for Christmas
“I’m sorry–” I start.
“It’s exhausting sometimes. Not gonna lie.” There’s no exaggerated delivery. Only soft and stripped-down honesty. He’s not putting on a show right now.
And I feel like a total shit.
Turning toward him, I open my mouth to apologize again, but he silences me by adding, “I’m not trying to earn sympathy points from you right now.”
I pause before replying, “I didn’t think you were.”
His eyes set on a couple holding hands. “If I… ifwe’regoing to do this, we should be honest with each other.”
I don’t speak. I listen.
“I’m not into lying either, Bells. Even though I do it every goddamn day for people who want the version of me they make up in their head.” He’s quieter now, thumb and forefinger rubbing together, slow and absent. I’m surprised by this new fissure in his usual cocky veneer.
Exhaling through his nose, he continues, “They demand that persona. The flirt. The fantasy they follow on ShelfSpace. I created a glossy, thirst-trap book boyfriend to build a brand. It worked.” He shrugs. There’s no pride in it. “I’m a New York Times Bestselling author. So, I play for the cameras, give the people their wink and bite, keep the mystery alive. I do what I have to do.”
Soren’s gaze finally meets mine again, and my stomach sinks at the vulnerability I see tucked behind his eyes.
“The point is…I’m not always what you see.” A soft, sad smile touches his lips. “There’s more to me, despite what you think.”
That phrase cut right through me. What is wrong with me? Soren’s not a character. He’s a person. A living, breathing human being with feelings and fatigue and walls I just helped reinforce. One who’s been performing for so long, I’m not sure he even knows who he’d be if hestopped. And I reminded him why he doesn’t. Shit, why did I say that to him?
Fingers tightening around the cup, my heart shifts a fraction. I don’t want to like him. But he’s making me want to see past the layers. Past the swagger and the smirk, down to the man who hides inside the spotlight. That’s risky.
“I need you to know.” Soren turns entirely toward me, his expression steady and unbearably sincere, “that during all of this…” His eyes roam over my face, trying to see the parts I’ve hidden behind my own brand of armor. “You don’t have to smile if it hurts. I’ll do it for you.”
The words slam into me with quiet precision, right into the softest part of me. Soren sees my mask for what it is. And he’s telling me that with him, I can take it off.
My throat tightens. The air feels suddenly too thin, like I’ve been caught naked in a room full of strangers. If I drop the smile, if I let him see the ache underneath, there’s no taking it back. No pretending I’m untouchable. The terrifying part is that a small, traitorous piece of me wants that.
It’s too dangerous.
“I don’t even know you.”
“Yet,” he says. “When you’re ready, I can be a safe space for you. You can breathe with me.”
That undoes me more than anything else he could’ve said. It’s not a line. Nor is it a flirtation. It’s an offering–one that doesn’t ask anything of me.
You can breathe with me.
I try swallowing around the lump rising in my throat, and remind myself it’s not about my past anymore. It’s about what that ending did to me. I internalized it. After what happened, I started shrinking, sanding off edges, making myself harder to love, and easier to leave.
Now, I’m sitting next to someone who’s offering safety in moments where I least expect it. I want to lean into it. If only for a second. Long enough to experience what it feels like to bewantedand not used. To beunderstood.
But I don’t. I can’t. Never again.
A shaky breath leaves my lungs, and I pray to whatever deity is incharge of emotional boundaries that Soren Pembry never figures out how close he is to breaking me open.
“I appreciate the offer. It’s not the smiling that hurts, though,” I whisper, even as the truth pulls loose, stitch by stitch. “It’s the recklessness of this whole thing.”
His brows merge. He breathes a laugh. “I’ve been reckless since before this fake dating thing even started.”
“You must be tired.” The words come out shaky.
Soren nods, thoughtful. “I am.”
A beat of silence.
