Snagging the remote, I busy myself with pulling up a streaming service and start scrolling through the titles like I give a shit about most of them. It’s Hat’s account, so most of the list is rom-com shit or horror flicks that he’s already made me sit through a thousand times.
My best friend is a complicated man.
“What’s your favorite movie?” I ask absently and start unrolling the top of the chip bag. The crinkle is loud and obnoxious, but so is the immediate trailer playing once I stop too long on a movie.
I’m crunching on a mouthful when I turn to Emmett for an answer, only to find his wide gaze flipping between the TV and the bag of chips in utterhorror.
“What’s wrong?”
He’s still standing there. Still looking like he’s about to run. The plate in his hands shaking with his white-knuckled grip.
“Em?”
Something on the TV slams and he jumps nearly out of his skin, flipping the plate up and sending the toast flying in my direction.
I manage to catch it peanut butter side down, the paste smearing all over my palm and between my fingers.
“Ah, shit.” I bite the crunchy corner to pull it from my palm while I use my free hand to turn down the volume on the TV. I scroll so a less obtrusive trailer plays when I set the remote down and sink my teeth through the rest of the bite. “I’ll make you another one, but we’re out of peanut butter.”
Pushing to my feet, I take the empty plate from the frozen Emmett and set it on the table.
His eyes dart all around my chest; his pumping with heavy breaths as I stand here, close enough to feel the puffs of it through my shirt.
Waiting him out, I rip off another bite and chew.
“Its … how …” He swallows hard, those sweet eyes raking over my chin. “No one’s gonna be mad?”
The round of thickness in my throat is hard to get down.
“No bub,” I say softly. “It’s just you and me.” Dipping so that I can catch his gaze, I twist my lips into a grin. “I’m not mad. You mad?”
He shakes his head. Looks back down.
I nod.
“Okay. Then we’re all good. No one’s mad and we get to do whatever the hell we want.”
His eyes flick to mine and some of the tension releases in my chest.
“O-okay.”
That tension? Yeah, it snaps free when Emmett moves around me and drops onto the couch. He pulls his knees up and wraps around them, curling into the smallest possible version ofhimself, but fuck if it doesn’t ease something inside me to see him take the seat anyway.
“More toast?” I ask and a beat passes before he finally turns to look up at me with eyes that make my stomach whoosh.
“Okay.”
In my head, I’m pumping my fist.
On the outside, I give him a soft smile, agenuineone, and nod.
Chapter 11
Emmett
After fifteen minutes ofgrumbling about the shit choices, Tristen finally chose what appears to be a show he claims to have already seen but does not have any sudden loud action sequences.
I just nodded along and nibbled on the warm toast he brought back with him. It’s settling light inside my stomach, warm and welcome.
