LOVE IS BEING SEEN : FRIENDS TO LOVERS 🥀🥰

"Of Course I'd Do That for You

"Of Course I'd Do That for You"

The menus arrive, but neither of us touches them.

I'm still smiling-actually smiling, not the rehearsed one I've worn all day. Soren sits across from me, long fingers tapping once on the table before he looks up.

His expression is calm, neutral... except for the subtle glint in his eyes. The tell.

I lean forward, propping my chin in my hand.

"So," I say lightly. "You know you terrified that photographer today, right?"

The corner of his mouth lifts. Just barely.

"I didn't terrify him."

"Soren, he practically sprinted out with his camera. If he ran any faster, the lens would've fallen off."

That earns a full smile. A quiet, reluctant one-the kind he gets when he's trying not to encourage me but absolutely is.

"You're exaggerating," he says.

"I'm really not. I think I saw smoke."

He huffs a laugh, shaking his head. That tiny moment right there-the soft one-is the reason teasing him has become one of my favorite hobbies.

"Bella," he says, using the nickname so casually it makes something warm glide down my spine, "I wasn't going to let him talk to you like that."

The laughter softens. My smile fades into something gentler.

"Thank you," I say quietly. "For real."

His eyes meet mine. Steady. Certain.

"Of course I'd do that for you."

A warm breath catches in my chest. Not dramatic, not swooning-just... full. Full in a way I haven't felt in a long time.

---

Getting to Know Each Other:

We order dinner, and when the waiter leaves, Soren leans back slightly.

"Bella," he says again, more serious this time, "how many times has something like that happened? Men in the industry making you uncomfortable."

The question lands with surprising weight.

I stare at the condensation on my water glass for a second.

"...Not all the time," I say carefully. "But sometimes you encounter people who think you're an object. Not a person."

Soren doesn't look away. He doesn't interrupt. He doesn't pity.

He just listens.

"People assume modeling is glamorous," I continue, "and it can be. But it also puts you in situations where you have to smile through things you don't like. And you hope the people around you notice when something's wrong."

He nods once-sharp, understanding, protective.

"I noticed," he says.

My breath shortens, just for a moment.

Yes. He did.

---

Talking About the Campaign:

I shift the conversation softly, giving us both air.

"So," I ask, "how'd you end up participating in the campaign anyway? I thought you and Atticus were buried in architectural work."

"We are," he says, a hint of pride slipping into his voice. "But my parents wanted us to take on more responsibilities for the Everheart hotels. Sponsorships, brand integrations, event approvals... they want to see how we handle the business side."

"And?" I tilt my head.

Soren's shoulders lift in a quiet, satisfied shrug. "And it's going well. People are starting to notice our work. Not just our last name."

"That's because you're extremely talented," I say, no hesitation. "And hardworking. And-" I smile. "-nominated for an award, might I add."

His eyes flick to mine, something warm passing through them. "You heard about that?"

"Aliana told me. Then sent me a twenty-minute voice note describing the nomination process."

That gets another real laugh. Lower this time.

"I should've known."

"You should be proud," I tell him. "It's a big deal."

He doesn't puff his chest or get cocky. He just looks... grateful. Seen.

---

Arabella Opens Up

He lifts his glass, fingertips brushing the rim. "What about you? You seemed... happy on set today. Before everything."

I brighten. "I was! I love doing commercials and ads. I know it sounds silly, but I enjoy it-the performance, the creativity, the storytelling. Representing my family's brand means a lot to me."

His gaze softens, like he enjoys hearing me talk about the things I love.

"But I want to do more," I admit. "Acting-wise. Maybe hosting. Maybe something all my own one day."

He nods once. "You should."

The way he says it-steady, confident, like it's a fact-makes my heart pull tight.

"And the campaign..." I continue. "It means a lot to me. Mental health is something people are struggling with everywhere. Being part of something that makes people feel seen feels... important."

I expect him to nod. To agree politely.

He doesn't.

He studies me-with that quiet, careful intensity that sees more than I'm saying.

"Bella," he says softly, "this means something personal to you. Doesn't it?"

My breath stutters.

Just for a second.

Just enough for him to notice.

But he doesn't push.

He just listens with curiosity, compassion, patience-like he's offering space rather than demanding answers.

I look down, tracing the rim of my plate.

"It matters," I say quietly. "More than I've said."

And he hears the unsaid parts anyway.

---

Becoming Each Other's Rock

The silence between us isn't heavy. It's warm. It's safe. It's the kind of silence that makes you feel less alone.

Soren leans forward slightly, elbows on the table.

"You know," he murmurs, "you're allowed to want more. To do more. To be more than what people expect from you."

A slow, grateful smile forms before I can stop it.

"And you," I reply softly, "are allowed to be proud of yourself. And smile more than once every seven minutes."

He chuckles-low, warm, real.

"You're pushing it."

"Am I?" I grin. "I like seeing you smile."

His eyes lock onto mine, something gentle and unguarded slipping through the cracks of his usual stoic exterior.

"And I," he says quietly, "like seeing you breathe easier."

The moment hangs. Soft, suspended. Intimate without touching.

Two people who weren't meant to be alone tonight... but maybe needed to be.

And in that quiet little corner of the world, something shifts.

Not love.

Not yet.

But the beginning of choosing each other.

Again and again.

---