“Me either.”
Scoffing, I mumble, “Surprising.”
“Excuse me?” he hisses.
I can feel him shooting daggers into the side of my head and know I should drop it. I’d like to blame the alcohol for what I’m about to say next, but if I’m being honest with myself, even if I was stone-cold sober, I’d still probably snap at him because the same way Elias can’t fucking seem to help himself at being a brat, I can’t seem to control my tongue around him either.
“Based on thecrudenoises coming from your room earlier, I would’ve thought you’d have no problem passing out, but I guess whoever you had in there couldn’t satisfy you.”
His eyes narrow into thin slits while his lip tilts into a cold smirk. “Careful, Zekey. You’re sounding jealous.”
Head turning and gaze finally locking with his, I take him in, wishing I hadn’t. In too short shorts and a faded yellow band tee that’s been cut into a crop top, he’s sitting on the edge of the couch with his legs crossed, a purple sucker in hand, and a smug look plastered on his face.
“Watch the damn movie or get out,” I snarl before returning my attention as best as I can to the film in front of me.
Elias is quiet for a moment before asking in a much less sassy tone than before, “What’s the name of this one?”
He cannot be fucking serious. “First, you didn’t know what The Breakfast Club was, and now you’re telling me you’ve never seen Dirty Dancing?” A laugh bubbles out of him, further grating on my nerves. “What is so funny?”
“I’m sorry!” he blurts out. “You’re so passionate about these movies I’ve never watched, and it’s just a little surprising coming from someone like”—he motions his hand in a twirl in front of him in my direction—“you.”
“And what is that supposed to mean? Someone like me?”
“I mean, look at you.” He plops the sucker into his mouth as he repositions himself, facing more toward me before removing it again. His eyes peruse over me, my pulse kicking up a notch under his scrutiny. “You’re this beast of a man who looks like he could take out an army without so much as breaking a sweat. Probably intimidating to most, and your guilty pleasure is old chick flicks. It’s surprising.” He offers a measly shrug after all that.
“That’s rather stereotypical of you,” I grumble.
A grin splits his face. “You’re right, it is. I’m sorry.”
“But seriously, Elias. How have you never seen these movies?”
He shrugs. “I don’t know. Just haven’t.”
“Sixteen Candles?”
Another shake of the head, the unruly mop atop falling slightly into his eyes.
“Footloose? Grease? Top Gun? Any of these?”
“No, no, and no.” He chuckles.
Scoffing, I tell him, “Your mother failed you.”
“She doesn’t—”
“Watch movies,” I finish for him. “I know. It’s almost as appalling as you.”
Elias rolls his eyes, trying to hide the smirk growing on his lips. “So, what’s this one about?” he asks, facing forward and pulling his knees to his chest.
After a brief synopsis of the film, we fall into a comfortable silence as we watch the movie. Against my better judgement, I sneak a few peeks at him from my periphery, and he’s enthralled. His legs are curled up under him, he’s moved onto his next sucker, and there’s zero commentary. His blatant enjoyment of the movie has my heart racing, and I find myself having to bite the inside of my cheek to suppress a grin that’s trying like hell to break through.
More than once, I’ve battled internally with myself on whether I should get up and go to bed or not. Being alone with him like this isn’t smart, and I know that, but I can’t find it in me to get up and leave. It also hasn’t escaped me that these little movie nights we’ve found ourselves in twice now are the only times we’ve ever been alone since the night of the rehearsal dinner. It feels a little like playing with fire, what we’re doing here. He’s got the gasoline and I’ve got the match, and we’re teetering on the line of explosive, waiting to see if we combust.
I should stop it.
I should avoid it. Avoid him.
But I can’t.
