“Sometimes?” asks Landon, but the corner of his mouth rises up just slightly.
“Most times,” I mutter.
“It’s fine,” he says, settling back against the couch again, the side of his body pressing back against the side of mine, our serious exchange forgotten. “Just play the stupid show.”
“Sure,” I say, then mutter under my breath, “except it’s not stupid.”
Once we finish the episode, I half expect Landon to tell me he’s had enough. He doesn’t. We move on to the next one, and I can tell by his comments that he’s already invested.
“That’s a fuck-ton of butter.”
“Oh, Lena is definitely going home after that monstrosity.”
“How did this chick even get on the show? She has zero talent.”
“Don’t they taste test this shit while they’re baking? If it tastes awful, change it.”
“It’s raw. The dough is fucking raw. He’s going to poison the judges, idiot.”
Sometime between the end of episode three and the start of four, I doze off. Before I know it, the sound of a photo being taken rouses me to consciousness.
“Rise and shine, my little angels,” comes Eli’s unwelcome voice.
Anotherclickmakes my eyes snap open, and a sharp pain shoots through my neck as I realize, with immense horror, that I’ve spent the night with my head resting against Landon’s chest. I jerk upright, face reddening, and beside me, Landon stiffens. Unable to look at him, I glare at his brother, who’s still pointing his phone at us.
“What are you doing?” I mutter, shielding my face with my hand. “What time is it?”
Eli grins. “Eight in the morning, Peps. Storm has passed, but the power’s still out. They’re not sure when it’s coming back on.”
He snaps another photo until Landon lunges forward, snatching the phone out of his hand. “Enough.”
“What?” Eli snickers. “You two just looked so darn cute.”
“Eli,” Landon warns, as I make my way to my feet, stretching my arms toward the ceiling and rolling out my neck.
“How long does it normally take for the power to come on?” I ask, dropping my hands back down to my sides.
“Could be hours, could be days,” answers Landon, but when I try to meet his eyes, he won’t look at me. “Where’s Lemon?”
Eli shrugs. “She’s around somewhere.”
“You left her alone in the house?” snaps Landon. “Jesus, you don’tthink.” Before Eli can respond, Landon shoves the phone at his chest and pushes past him, stalking out of the room without another word.
“He seems…agitated,” I mutter, staring after him.
Eli waves his phone around, grinning mischievously. “Because I’ve got evidence of what he’ll never admit.”
I frown at him. “What are you talking about?”
Eli just smiles.
“You need to delete those photos,” I warn, because I’m sure my hair is pure chaos and there’s a line of drool caked to my chin.
Oh god, please tell me I didn’t drool on Landon’s shirt.
“Not a chance in hell.”
I open my mouth to argue, but Landon’s voice blares from the kitchen. “Eli, make yourself useful and help me with this furniture!”
