The Accidental Heart
Avery corrected cheerfully, adjusting her own faded denim jacket.
She grabbed Vivian’s hand, intentionally weaving their fingers together. Vivian’s hand went rigid at first, her skin cool, before her fingers slowly, reluctantly tightened around Avery's.
"And yes. Deo has stringers tracking your car GPS. My source says a freelance photographer is already waiting near the noodle stalls. If we want people to believe we are blissfully, chaotically in love, we need to look like it."
"We look ridiculous," Vivian murmured, but she didn’t drop Avery's hand as they stepped out of the black car and directly into a wall of humidity, neon lights, and the overwhelming scent of sizzling garlic and fried d