“You like that movie?” This is unexpected for a variety of reasons.
“I love all of them.” Her expression goes dreamy, and it isn’t hard to guess that she’s thinking of Keanu. Every woman I know, and a fair amount of guys too, get that expression when speaking of Keanu.
“Honestly, Sweets, I didn’t think you watched any movies made after the year 2000.”
Pen flips me the bird, but does it with class, pretending her finger is a lipstick that she then uses to paint her lips.
Chuckling, I settle into the couch. It’s too fun needling her sometimes. “Wick is pretty violent. You used to leave the room whenever March put onThe Walking Dead.”
“Because zombies aregross.” Her mouth twists in distaste. “All that rotting? Ack.”
With a shake of my head, I give her a reproachful look. “You flat out refused to continue watchingPredatorbecause it was, and I quote, ‘too violent.’”
Her eyes narrow, but her lips twitch. “You think you just won something, don’t you?”
“I do.”
We stare each other down, both of us fighting a smile; to do so first would concede defeat. I don’t make the rules. I simplyobey them. But then Pen makes a dismissive motion with her hand.
“Eh, John Wick is basically a beautifully shot live-action tactical RPG, which is ironic because they then created an actual game due to the popularity of the film, which is all very meta, but I digress. He’s basically on a quest, and because none of the people he kills seem real, the violence doesn’t bother me.”
“Damn, that was sexy.” When everyone turns his way, Carter shrugs. “Where’s the lie?”
I point my finger at him in warning. But he’s right. It was sexy.
“Gotta love a girl who loves gaming,” Jelly says with a nod.
“Your girl hates gaming,” I point out.
“I’m working on it.”
I turn to Pen. “Let me get this straight. John can stab someone in theeyeand that’s fine. Yet you’ll squeal like a terrified piglet when Predator rips out someone’s spine?”
“I resent the piglet simile.”
“Piglets are adorable, but fine. Consider ‘piglet’ rescinded.”
Pen dips her chin in a queenly gesture of beneficence. “I really don’t see what’s so difficult to understand here, August.”
“God!” I blink up at the ceiling. “Where to begin?”
“Hold up.” Rhodes leans in, his gaze darting between me and Pen. “How long have you two known each other?”
“Forever,” we say in unison, which makes me full-on grin.
Pen’s cheeks pink, as if our like-mindedness is somehow embarrassing. She shrugs lightly. “We grew up together, but I was really more his sisters’ friend.”
My smile dies. Shot dead through the heart. Technically, it’s the truth. But hearing her say it bothers me more than it should. The guys can’t see that, though. Not when we’re supposed to be a newly engaged, completely in love couple. Attempting casual ease, I rest my arm on the back of the sofa, close enough to Pen that my fingers touch the ends of her hair.
“Our moms are best friends. Whenever our parents got together for events, we kids inevitably ended up watching movies together.” I stroke a lock of Pen’s hair between my thumb and forefinger. The act might appear deliberate, but in truth it’s born of sheer impulse. “Pen mostly loves classic movies.”
She sits very still, clearly feeling my touch but choosing not to acknowledge it, either by moving away or leaning in. She’s doing a good job of pretending my touches are her normal, but the idea that I might be unsettling her has me pulling my arm back in the pretense of grabbing my drink.
I want to touch her. I want to kiss her. This need is not easing or evening out. It’s getting worse.
“I’m majoring in film history, so that goes with the territory,” she tells the guys. “But I love movies in general.”
God, she’s cute. I’m so fucked.
