Pedro screeching: “HOT! HOT! HOT!”
All I feel is him.
His body.
His arousal pressing against my hip—hidden but unmistakable.
When he finally pulls back—breathless, lips swollen, my lipstick smudged on the corner of his mouth—I know we’ve won.
He turns to the crowd, still holding me like a trophy he just stole.
He locks eyes with Francis.
“So, Grande? Interesting enough for your article, or should I draw you a picture?”
Francis collapses into his seat, beet-red.
Nino bangs the gavel like a man possessed.
“Approved!” he shouts. “Approved with honors! Let the show begin!”
Cohen looks back at me and winks.
“Told you that lipstick would come in handy,” he murmurs, sending chills down my spine.
I jab him in the ribs, but I can’t stop smiling like an idiot.
We’re in.
We’re officially the couple to beat.
And judging by how Pedro is staring at us from his perch…
We’re officially the gossip of the year.
??THE ELM HOLLOW GAZETTE – SPECIAL POST-ASSEMBLY EDITION
“All the news worth whispering about”
??FRONT PAGE: THE KISS THAT SHUT THE TOWN UP
THE QUEEN OF HEARTS & NUMBER 9 PUT ON A SHOW
by Francis Grande (still shaken, but professional)
We thought we were attending a dry bureaucratic hearing. We thought we’d see two business partners discussing clauses and contracts. Instead, dear readers, we witnessed a live nuclear fusion.
Sloane Heart and Cohen Becker didn’t just answer the accusations of “zero chemistry.” They took them, crumpled them up, and set them on fire with a kiss that triggered the fire alarm in everyone’s chest (including Mrs. Higgins, who was seen fanning herself with her electric bill).
He grabbed her like she was the last glass of water in the desert. She held on to him like he was the only solid thing in a storm.
The result? Sloane’s allegedly “smudge-proof” lipstick ended up all over Becker’s face. And you know what? We’ve never loved a mess so much.
Gazette Verdict:
If this is fake, give them an Oscar.
If it’s real… get the fire extinguishers ready.
