LOVE IS A INTERNAL ARGUMENT: An Introverts romance🩰

drama part 2

Continuation — Why the Comments Bother Him + Book Moment + First Hug

Atticus leaned back into the couch, exhaling like the weight of the night finally hit him.

“You know what really gets me?” he said, voice low. “It’s not the cameras. I grew up with those. It’s the story they try to paint. Like no matter what I do, I can’t shake it.”

Aliana watched him carefully. He wasn’t performing. He wasn’t charming.

He was just… honest.

“Sometimes,” he continued, “I just think… screw it. If they insist on calling me the arrogant, reckless Everheart—then fine. I’ll act like it.”

Her brows knit. “Why play into it?”

He huffed out a humorless laugh. “Because if I can’t control them… I might as well have fun. It’s easier than fighting a version of myself they’ve already decided on.”

He rubbed his palm along his jaw, eyes flicking away.

“They refuse to believe anything else,” he murmured. “Even my parents.”

Aliana’s gaze softened.

Atticus swallowed hard before admitting, “They’ve always viewed me as the wild Everheart. The one who needs to be tamed. The… disappointment.”

The word lingered between them like a bruise.

Aliana shook her head immediately — not harshly, but with quiet conviction.

“Atticus,” she said softly, “you are many things… but a disappointment is not one of them.”

He looked up at her — stunned, almost disarmed.

“You’re kind,” she continued, “gentle in ways you don’t want people to notice, thoughtful even when it confuses you…”

A tiny smile tugged her lips. “And you’re not wild. You’re just… bigger than the box they tried to put you in.”

Something in his chest cracked open.

No one had ever said that to him. Not like that. Not with understanding.

Atticus stared at her, like he was seeing a version of himself he’d never met.

“Aliana…” he whispered, almost grateful, almost undone.

To escape how intense it suddenly felt, she glanced around—

And froze.

Her eyes widened.

“Atticus Grant Everheart…” she whispered dramatically.

His brows shot up. “What?”

She stood, practically glowing as she walked toward a massive wall-to-wall bookshelf.

“Is this—this entire thing yours?”

He blinked. “Uh… yeah?”

She gasped like she discovered buried treasure.

“It’s huge,” she breathed, running her fingers along the spines. “So you… you read?”

He tilted his head, smirking. “Is that shocking?”

“You give off more… ‘haha reading that's cute of you"

She grinned over her shoulder. “Is it wrong?”

“Yes,” he said, stepping closer. “I read. Mystery. Paranormal. Fantasy. And occasionally…”

He hesitated, then shrugged, “Romance. Don’t judge me.”

She spun around so fast he had to stop himself from bumping into her.

“Atticus,” she said, eyes bright, voice soft with delight, “I think we’re going to get along just fine.”

Before she could rethink it — she hugged him.

Her arms slid around his waist. Warm. Soft. Unafraid.

Atticus froze.

Absolutely stunned.

No one hugged him like that — gently, with affection instead of expectation.

Then his arms came around her, slow but certain, holding her like she was made of something he wasn’t used to being trusted with.

He heard his own heartbeat in his ears.

She pulled back slightly, still close enough that he could feel her breath.

“That didn’t scare you, did it?” she teased softly.

Atticus swallowed.

His voice came out lower than he intended.

“Terrified,” he said. “Do it again.”

Her laugh — soft, musical — warmed him more than anything ever had.

And Atticus, for one dangerous second, thought:

I’m in trouble.