Daniel
“Tellme again how I’m supposed to see a love story here?” I turned my head against the back of the couch to look at Jules, who was sprawled on the couch beside me, watching my laptop with the same fascinated horror that Ifelt.
“I’m not sure about love. I mean, you can totally see that there’s a chemistry between them.” He blinked up at me in the late-afternoon semi-darkness as the credits forHannibalrolled. His hair was sticking straight up in places after his shower this morning, he was wearing my t-shirt and oldest, softest sweatpants with the waistband rolled down and the cuffs rolled up, and something in my chest contracted a little bit at how beautiful he was and howrightit felt to have him here next tome.
“Chemistry?” I grimaced. “Between the cannibalistic serial killer and the FBI agent he’s gaslighting? Is that what you’d call the basis for a strong, healthy friendship? Because if so, I think that’s something we need todiscuss—”
“Hush!” Jules smacked me lightly on the arm. “I didn’t say healthy. Pretty sure Hannibal hasn’t said a single honest thing in ten episodes. But there’schemistry.You can see it. Maybe we just need to keepwatching.”
“Maybe later.” I closed my laptop and set it on the floor, turned on some of my favorite folk music, then leaned back in my seat. “You know, when you suggested hooking up your phone’s hotspot to my laptop and spending the day watching Netflix, serial killers weren’t what I had inmind.”
Jules shifted his body and bent his leg to sit sideways on the sofa, and one corner of his mouth twitched up in a smile. “No, you suggested the ever-upliftingGame of Thrones. A rollicking good time, right up there withTitanic.”
“Titanic,” I grunted. “Stupid movie. They both could have fit on thedoor.”
“Theysocould have fit on thedoor.”
“But then there wouldn’t have been a story, right?” I sighed and scratched absently at my stomach, my eyes to the ceiling. “Not a good one anyway. Imagine if he’d lived. Instead of Rose becoming some kind of artist, skydiver, horseback-rider, cool-as-fuck grandmother, she and Leonardo DiCaprio would’ve ended up married way too young. They’d probably be living in some shitty tenement, since her mom would’ve cut her off. Leo would’ve kept playing poker and gambling away the money from whatever possessions she managed to pawn, since homeboy’s skill of drawing naked ladies was never gonna pan out. She’d’ve popped out a couple kids, since birth control wasn’t a thing, and the whole time she’d be thinking that if she wanted to be trapped in a loveless relationship, she could have married the prick with the gun, because at least then she would’ve beenrichand miserable, which I can tell you from experience is better than poor andmiserable.”
Julian said nothing for a second and I shifted my head again to find him squinting at me, like he was trying to read my brain through myskull.
“Who hurt you?” hedemanded.
I licked my lips uncomfortably. “No onehurt—”
“No, seriously,” he continued, leaning forward to grab my hand in both of his. “Who hurt you? Were you dropped on your head a lot? Did bullies stuff you in a locker? Did JD Pritchard steal your girlfriend?” He paused. “No, never mind, I still don’t wanna know if he wasinvolved.”
“Since you’ve got acrushonhim?”
Julian’s face flamed and he pushed my hands away. “I’m still a little bit hungover. It’s not okay to tease me yet about things you might have heardyesterday.”
“Apologies,” I said. “When does teasing season open, so I can mark it on mycalendar?”
“I’ll let you know,” he saidprimly.
I ran my tongue over my front teeth to hide my smile. Was it weird that I loved these random conversations we lapsed into? Was it weird that I loved him giving meshit?
It was probablyweird.
“Yousaid you were too hungover for that much bloodshed,” I reminded him. “So in your wisdom, you picked the cannibal showinstead.”
“Hey! People on Facebook said it was amazing. And it was!” He hesitated. “In a very dark sort of way. That makes me never want to eat meatagain.”
“The perfect way to keep that Thanksgiving feeling going all yearlong!”
“Well, considering what yesterday was like, that might not beinaccurate.”
I laughed and stretched my arm out on the couch behind him. “It wasn’t thatbad.”
“Are you joking?” He peered at me closely. “It was a shit show. My mother was in rare form, my brothers can’t keep their mouths shut, and I gotdrunk. At mymother’s house. In front ofmy family. Just thinking about it is making menauseated.”
“You sure that’s not the hangover?” I asked. “Or the serial killershow?”
He threw himself back to lay flat on the seat cushion, covered his eyes with his forearm, and groaned. Honoria, who’d been laying on the floor in front of the fire, lifted her head so she could groan in sympathy, and Julian chuckled half-heartedly.
“Calm down! You didn’t do anything crazy.” I shrugged. “And if you’re gonna get drunk, that’s the best place for it to happen,right?”
“Wrong!” His voice was muffled. He moved his arm to look at me. “You’re not taking thisseriously.”
