“I would argue thatSave the Last Danceis her pièce de résistance, but there is something about this one that gets you right in the feels.” He crouches down and hits the button to power on the DVD player that sits below his TV.
“You know this movie is on one of your million streaming services, right? You don’t have to actually put in the DVD like we’re living in 2005.”
Tyler spins around and stares at me. “Sal, be so fucking for real right now. This is the tenth anniversary DVD. If we watch iton a streaming service, how are we going to see the retrospective documentary or the cast and crew interviews?”
I laugh because this is an old argument, and I could have predicted his answer word for word. But making Tyler defend his love of watching rom-coms on old school DVDs instead of on a streaming service like the rest of the world is one of my favorite pastimes.
“But think of how much shelf space you could regain if you finally ditched the DVDs and embraced the streaming of it all?”
Tyler pops up and strides to the couch. “How dare you,” he says, taking a flying leap and landing right next to me, sending throw pillows flying as he smacks kisses all over my face and digs his fingers into my ribs, hitting my most ticklish spot.
“Fuck off,” I shriek. I try to get away from him, but he locks an arm around me, tugging me practically into his lap and continuing his all-out tickle assault.
“Never!” he says, doubling down. “Not until you admit that my DVD collection is a work of fucking art.”
“No,” I laugh, caught between a fit of giggles and a scream as I squirm on his lap. But when my ass comes into contact with something hard, I freeze becauseholy fuck that’s his dick.
Tyler’s very hard, very big dick.
His dick that has accidentally settled in between my ass cheeks so the only thing between us is his jeans and my leggings, which suddenly seem like both too much and not enough all at the same time.
I’m in so much shock it takes me a minute to realize Tyler has gone completely still, and I take the opportunity to rocket off his lap, scrambling to the other side of the couch. I pick up a throw pillow, hugging it to my chest and forcing my eyes to look anywhere but at Tyler’s crotch as my brain races for what the fuck I’m supposed to do right now because the shape of Tyler’s cock is now not something I can unknow, and I’m not sure if I’m better or worse off because of it.
And what exactly is the conversation etiquette after you feel your best friend’s massive erection against your ass?
“So, all I’m saying is if you joined the twenty-first century, you could fill that shelf with other things. Like pictures of me, maybe.”
Jesus, fuck, Sophie. An eidetic memory and an IQ of one fifty-eight and that’s the best you can come up with?
Try harder.
Tyler stares at me for a long moment, his ocean blues boring into mine and a faint flush covering his cheeks. My heart knocks a hopeful beat against my ribs, and I wonder what the fuck is happening right now. Or what’s about to happen. But in an instant, Tyler’s face changes, relaxes, and he blinks, seeming to snap out of his trance.
I’m not sure if I’m relieved or disappointed.
“You know I always want more pictures of you, Sophie baby, but you will bury me with my DVD collection. Relying on streaming services is way too risky. What if I want to watchHow to Lose a Guy in Ten Daysbut the Paramount people get into a fight with the streaming people and suddenly it’s gone? What would I do then?”
I take a slow inhale, leaning my shoulder against the back of the couch and forcing a grin. “Watch something else?”
He scoffs. “Shows how much you know about me. When I want to watch something, that’s what I want to watch, and my brain won’t allow for substitutions.”
I take one more deep breath and try to exhale the weirdness coalescing in my stomach. “Well, if it’sTen Things I Hate About Younight, maybe we need a late-night Thai food delivery. I thought I would never be hungry again after all the game snacks, but I am. It’s like a movie night Pavlovian thing. See DVDs, need snacks.”
Tyler seems to consider this. “That’s one option, but hear me out. What about grilled cheese instead? I’ve been pondering a white American, gouda, grated gruyere, hot honey on sourdoughsituation I’m absolutely positive will be the best thing you’ve ever tasted.”
I burst out laughing, relieved the awkwardness seems to be behind us. “You really hated that arena grilled cheese, didn’t you?”
Tyler shakes his head. “Soph, it was the worst fucking thing I’ve ever eaten. An insult to grilled cheese connoisseurs everywhere. And the lemonade and Dr Pepper combo really didn’t do it for me. Why do I always think I want a different drink? I always end up regretting it’s not ginger ale.”
I shrug. “You like what you like. There’s nothing wrong with that. You don’t have to try so hard to like different things.”
Tyler grins at me. “When you’re right, you’re right. So…grilled cheese?”
The hopeful smile on his face makes me laugh again, and even though my romantic heart beats for him in a way that is both thrilling and really annoying, he’s also still my best friend and my favorite person in the world. “Sure, why not? Make me grilled cheese, and I’m going up to change out of these clothes while you do that.”
“Fuck yes!” Tyler pops up from the couch and heads for the kitchen. “I washed the pajamas you left here last time,” he calls back to me. “Your pink socks too. They’re in the drawer in the guest room. Oh, and Soph?” He turns around and smirks in a way that has me immediately on guard.
“What?” I ask warily.
