Sal stood and stretched. “I’m probably gonna head out at the end of this episode. You wanna grab a Tupperware, take what you want? I’m gonna wash my hands.” He saluted, then sprinted down the hallway.
“Great. You chased off my friend.” I huffed, pausing the show.
Victor arched his brow. “Do you think it’s possible you did that on your own?”
I rolled my eyes. If Sal had such a big family, I doubted a few jabs between siblings bothered him. “More likely, he picked up on the factthat you don’t like him. He’s nice too, you know. I don’t harass you into spending holidays with him.”
“For now,” he mused, glancing down the hall.
“What?”
“Nothing. I’ll go do my nighttime routine and let you two say your farewells privately. Then, would you like to continue watching?” He gestured to the TV and flipped his bangs.
“Not Space Spies.” I was watching that with Sal, now.
“We’ll find something else, then.” Victor helped me clean up the living room, then, mercifully excused himself.
Sal strode in, his gait swinging fluidly like a cartoon character. “Where’s your bro?”
“Brushing his teeth.” I pushed my hair behind my ear. “I’m sorry if he ruined our supposedly ‘normal’ evening.”
“What, are you kidding? I had a great time.”
“Really?”
He nodded.
He was nice, but I doubted he’d lie to me.
I gestured vaguely between us and the TV. “So, we both enjoyed this.”
“I’d watch it again.” He grinned, tugging up the back of his pants.
Damn, my stomach flipped again, and this time it definitely wasn’t because of too much cheesy garlic bread. Those dimples were going to kill me.
We finished the last few minutes of the show in companionable silence, then I helped him to the front door with the pizzas.
He leaned forward as if he was going to side-hug me, then spotted the camera in the corner of the ceiling and stopped, offering me his fist instead. “Thanks for hanging with me.”
“Thanks for feeding me.” I bumped his fist and chuckled. This was so weird. My lips tingled for no reason, my skin simmering with electricity. Even my toes curled a bit. “Want to do something like this next week?”
“Hell yeah. Text me.” He grinned, shimmying through the doorway.
I stepped outside after him, the brisk November air prickling my exposed skin. “I-I don’t have your number.” Oh my god, that was so embarrassing. “I can message you on GameUp, which is practically the same thing.”
“I can also give you my number there,” he said.
“Great.” Was this pathetic? Or was it normal between friends? I waved.
He chuckled and shook his head, walking away.
Definitely pathetic. I smacked my forehead with my chilled palm.Get it together.
Heart racing, I closed the door and locked myself back in. Everything was fine.
Now, I had a friend. A friend with benefits.
21
