He doesn’t move. I don’t move. We just sit there like that, as if it’s normal. As if no one will see. As if we are Sunny and Tyler. A pair rather than two separate beings.
I cling to my glass of wine, certain I can shatter it with howhard I’m squeezing it. He’s still immersed in conversation while my world is halted with his hand still on my thigh.
“Sunny?” I hear my name called.
“What?”
Biting back a smile, Tyler removes his hand from my thigh. The warmth that was there now replaced with the lack of him.
“Which movie?” Anthony holds up the DVDs again.
“Umm, Lion King.”
“I think that’s a fantastic choice.” Tyler stands from the barstool and tosses his empty beer in the recycling bin.
“Your hair looks like you just got fucked. Were you really at work?” Sam asks, narrowing her eyes.
Cole and Anthony freeze at Sam’s comment, making my stomach churn. What do they know?
Tyler only smiles as he walks up to his sister with his hands in his pockets. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”
“Yes, actually I would.”
I just sit here spinning my wine glass, trying to ignore the skipping beats my heart is slamming against my sternum.
“I don’t kiss and tell,” Tyler says, grabbing the Lion King and waltzing to the living room.
“Lion King it is!” Anthony says.
“Pizza is ready!” Macey yells.
Cole grabs plates. Sam pours more wine. I continue to clutch my glass.
TYLER
When I put my hand on her thigh it told me everything I needed to know.You like me, Sunny.She refused to look up at me when it was insinuated I fucked another girl, reaffirming everything.
Mitchell's anger is exhausting, but it’s fine. I’ll use it asleverage to show him up and get it done with a smile on my fucking face. I’m good at what I do, and he knows that. He wants to see me crack—to see where my threshold is. What he doesn’t know is I don’t have one. All thanks to him.
Everyone is snuggled up on the couches. Sunny’s legs are in my lap, toes painted white and with a toe ring of a sea turtle on her right foot. Even her damn feet are pretty.
She smells like a day at the beach. The contact with her is making me come back to reality.
A buzz between us draws our attention where our phones casually sit. Connor's name lights her screen, which has my jaw flexing. Her overtime hours at work had me convinced their agreement was a failed attempt. Then again, when a person is desperate, a late-night call is never off the table. We all know that.
I look at her phone and then at her, where her blue-greens stare at me. She quickly grabs her phone from between us and reads the message. I grab my own, pressing a few buttons and then set it back down. I take her feet in my hands and start rubbing them so that she’s thinking about my hands while she’s texting him.
“What are you doing?” she whispers.
“You’ve been working a lot. Your feet probably hurt,” I say, running my hands up her legs, stopping at her thighs.
What she also doesn’t know is how much I need this fucking contact.
“You aren’t wrong,” she says, still clutching her phone in her hands.
I continue my work on her feet while she types away on her phone.
“Cole, I think your wifi went down?” Sunny says.
