Total pages in book: 162
Estimated words: 158872 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 794(@200wpm)___ 635(@250wpm)___ 530(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 158872 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 794(@200wpm)___ 635(@250wpm)___ 530(@300wpm)
“You could talk to him tonight,” I suggest in a low voice. “He’s relaxed and apparently too full to move, so he can’t chase you down.”
My attempt at a joke falls flat on its face.
“We’re all having a good night.” He flips the faucet off and grabs a paper towel to dry his hands. “I hate to ruin it.”
I swallow hard over the painful lump in my throat. Once it’s out in the open, Remy will have to deal with us as a couple. Unless Griff has other reasons for not wanting to say anything…
What if he’s embarrassed to admit his feelings for me?
“Sure. Whatever.” I shrug and flip the dishwasher shut. It closes with a hard, metallic bang, and I turn away.
“Molly.” Griff’s fingers brush my shoulders, but I duck to the side.
“I’m going to make popcorn.” Yup, all the popcorn-making supplies are on the other side of the kitchen. Away from Griff.
“What’s taking so long, guys?” Remy sets a serving bowl and his plate on the counter with a clatter.
“Oh, shoot. I forgot those.” I turn and vaguely gesture to the dishes. “I didn’t start the washer yet.”
“What are you two up to in here?” Remy casually bumps Griff away from the sink to rinse his stuff.
“Nothing,” I answer in a flat tone. “I’m making popcorn for the movie.”
“You sure you don’t have some homework or something you need to do?” Remy asks me.
I frown at him. “I could work on a few things, but nothing pressing.”
He finishes loading the dishwasher and slaps Griff’s chest. “Come help me pick a movie.”
“Let Molly choose,” Griff says.
Sure, picking the movie will make up for not telling my brother about us.
Griff focuses his eyes on mine as if he’s trying to have a separate, secret conversation with me. “She’s the one who said she’s up for something scary.”
Remy eyes me playfully. “Naw, she’s going to pick Carrie again.”
“Hell, no, I’m not. Not with prom coming up soon. Hayden’s gown almost looks like it came from Carrie. I chose something more modern. I still haven’t decided if I’m going to wear my hair up or down…” I glance at Griff. He nods in a disinterested sort of way that clamps my mouth shut. I’d better give up on the idea of him ever taking me to prom. We wouldn’t be able to hide that from my brother.
I find the air popper and a bag of unpopped kernels that I hope are still good. Ignoring Griff and Remy, I pull butter out of the fridge and chop it into small squares, set it in a bowl, and microwave it for thirty seconds.
When I turn around to find the big popcorn bowl, the guys are gone.
Good.
By the time I run out of kernels to pop, I have two huge bowls of popcorn drowning in melted butter and liberally coated with salt. I give both batches a final stir.
“If you guys want drinks, you better come and get them!” I shout.
They hustle into the kitchen to help me gather sodas and napkins. Together, we carry everything into the living room.
“Why only two bowls?” Remy asks. “Who says I’m going to share with you?” He pops a handful of popcorn into his mouth.
“You better share.” I grab a fistful out of his bowl. “What’d you guys pick?”
“Cabin in the Woods,” Griff says.
“It’s horror and sci-fi so it won’t freak you out too bad.” Remy rubs his buttery fingers over the top of my head.
I laugh and swat his hand away, but he’s right. Unrealistic horror movies don’t scare me the way home invasion or stalker horror tropes do. “Thanks.”
Griff side-eyes us but doesn’t comment.
In the living room, I settle into my favorite corner of the couch. Remy throws himself into his recliner. Griff eyes the other recliner and then the couch.
My breath catches in my throat.
He finally chooses the couch. Close enough for me to stretch my legs and poke his thigh with my toes if I want. I let out a happy sigh. Oh, how I’d love to snuggle up against him to watch the movie, but I don’t dare.
He pulls the afghan off the back of the couch and arranges it over my legs. My cheeks warm as I remember sitting on this couch with Griff a few weeks ago and where we ended up. What he said to me.
Our eyes meet.
Desire sparks between us—simmering but forbidden. He studies me with an intensity that raises goose bumps over my skin. He’s thinking of the same night, isn’t he?
“Goofballs, we watching this or not?” Remy grumbles.
“Yeah, stop flapping your lips and start it.” Griff tears his gaze away from me and flicks his hand toward the television. “Unless you’re too scared?”
Remy huffs out a laugh and rolls his eyes. “What are you, eight?”
“Nah.” Griff stretches out his legs and taps his socked foot against the arm of Remy’s chair. “Size thirteen. Don’t be jealous.”