Wes looked uncomfortable, and since she didn’t want to reveal her own interest in the topic, her eyes roamed the room looking for some way to change the subject. It was still early, and she didn’t want to spend another evening by herself trapped in her bedroom.
“Do you mind if I turn on the TV?”
“Of course not. It’s your house, too.”
She gestured at his computer. “I didn’t know if you still had work to do.”
“It’s a laptop. If the noise bothers me, I can go in the other room.”
Cara relocated to the couch and heard Wes making microwave popcorn as she scrolled through the menus of the different streaming services that were loaded on the TV. Nothing looked particularly interesting.
“What was the name of that show you mentioned? The one on your mug.”
“Star Trek. Do you want to watch it?” His tone was so hopeful, she had to roll her lips in to smother a laugh.
“Why not.” Cara shrugged and typed the show into the search bar. “There’s more than one?” she asked over her shoulder, and then had to stifle another giggle when his face morphed into outrage. Messing with him was just too easy!
“More than one?” He shook his head, grabbed the bowl of popcorn, and collapsed on the sofa next to her. He took the remote from her hand. “There are five! But we’ll start with the best. Unless you think chronological order is better?”
Cara felt her whole body relax. He looked so intensely frustrated, as if the choice of which old sci-fi show they watched was the most important thing in the world. Not for the first time, she wondered how someone who looked like him could be such a dork. She pulled the fuzzy blanket, folded under the coffee table, over her legs and snuggled back into the cushions. Something bubbled in her chest—something that felt distinctly like happiness.
“Let’s start with the best,” Cara said, taking the bowl from him and putting it on the arm of the sofa.
“Nice try.” Wes leaned across her to take the bowl back. He set the dish between them, pointed the remote at the screen, and flipped through the menu until he got to the selection he was looking for. The intro music began, but Cara couldn’t look up because she was too busy trying to keep the full bowl of popcorn from spilling all over the cushions as Wes tried to get comfortable. The small couch was not designed for someone his size, and the constant crossing and recrossing of his legs was bouncing the bowl dangerously.
Cara rolled her eyes and then leaned forward to pull the coffee table closer.
“Just put your feet up. I won’t tell. It’s the only way you’ll be comfortable.”
“I’m fine. Really.”
“Don’t be stubborn. I have three overgrown brothers. There is no reason for you to be uncomfortable.” She waved her hand. “Brothers, roommates, it’s all the same.” Or at least that’s what she kept telling herself.
Wes paused and looked at her with a funny expression. “Don’t tell Mel. She’d kill me.”
“Your secret’s safe with me.”
“I think I might like this little sister thing,” he said, tossing a popped kernel in the air and catching it with his mouth.
Cara’s eyes lingered on his profile as he chewed and felt a stab of disappointment. She’d started it, and she knew it was necessary to keep a mental barrier up—but she was also acutely aware of how the muscles in his forearm flexed each time he reached for the popcorn. Thefeelingsshe was experiencing were anything butsisterly.
CHAPTERSEVEN
The episode had beenon for fifteen minutes when Cara turned to him, eyes brimming with delight, and pointed at the screen trying not to laugh.
“What?” Wes squelched the disappointment he felt. Why did it matter if she liked his favorite show? He braced himself for the ridicule he knew was coming. Even Melody hated Star Trek.
“Is this a space soap opera?”
Wes scowled. “No, what are you talking about?”
Cara snatched the remote from him and backed the program up several frames until the characters of Commander Riker and Counselor Troi were centered on the screen, staring at each other.
“That!” She jabbed her finger at the image. “Super dramatic, longing looks! Unrequited love if I’ve ever seen it. And why is she wearing a miniskirt?”
“What? No!” Wes looked at the screen fully prepared to defend his favorite show. “They’re not…” he stopped. “Okay, I can see how you could think that, but the series isn’t like that.”
“Mmkay, if you say so.” She grabbed at the last handful of popcorn. “I’m cool with it. I love a good romantic subplot; I just hadn’t pegged you as the type.”
