The next morning, Ariana woke up to chaos.
Not the quiet kind either...the full-blown, media-frenzy, trending-on-every-platform kind. Her phone buzzed endlessly on the nightstand, vibrating like it was about to explode. She squinted at the screen and groaned. Headlines screamed back at her in bold fonts:
“Who’s the Mystery Man Protecting Ariana Cole?”
“Starlet and her Bodyguard: Sparks Fly in Public Rescue!”
“Too Close for Comfort?”
She buried her face in her pillow. Great. Just great.
Of course, the internet had turned that one moment at the fan event....Damian’s hand gripping her waist, the intense way they’d locked eyes...into a thousand slowed-down GIFs. There were already conspiracy threads dissecting it frame by frame.
With a defeated sigh, she dragged herself to the kitchen.
