Page 67 of Always Been Yours

“Are you going to make fun of me?”

He gives me a goofy, endearing grin and shakes his head slowly. That thick lock of hair falling over his forehead again. “If anything, your porn makes me like you more.” He leans forward. “Plus, it makes you blush, and Ilovethat.“ He plants a soft kiss to the apple of my cheek.

He turns back toward the kitchen and calls over his shoulder, “I want kettle corn. Do you have any?”

Grady

I have two sleeping cats in my lap and a large bowl of extra butter popcorn sitting between Viv and me. I’m higher than the moon after smoking the rest of the joint before we got snacks. Ormunchies,as Genevieve insists on calling them.

I should be happy.

But I’m not.

I’m betrayed.

“I can’t believe you’ve lied to me our entire lives.”

“Well,” she argues, tilting her head back and forth, “you’ve been lying to me all of these years too, Grady Miller.”

I can’t hide the guilty twist to my lips.She isn’t wrong.I don’t think either of us remembers how it all started, but I wasunder the assumption that kettle corn was her favorite kind of popcorn. And even as a kid, I wanted any reason to sit next to her. Share her bowl of snacks. Have something in common with her.

So yes, for over two decades I let her believe that kettle corn was my favorite kind of popcorn too, because it was supposed to beherfavorite.

She’s giggling now.

Probably thinking about how she was under the same assumption and chose kettle corn forme.

I can’t help but laugh with her. We were just two infatuated kids who would rather spend years not eating salty, extra butter popcorn than chance someone else sitting by them during movies.

Vivi

“No fair, you’re cheating!” I point an accusing finger at him.

A few minutes ago, I slid—yes,slid,my head doesn’t feel as foggy but my body refuses to get off the floor—to the other side of the kitchen to see who could catch more pieces of popcorn in their mouths. Except Grady is much better at this than I am.

I always beat Lexi when we play. Granted, she catches about one for every ten.

But still, I thought my sixty percent rate wasn’t bad.

It isn’t even comparable to Grady’s nine out of ten catches.

“How would I even cheat?” He laughs at the accusation.

“I don’t know,” I huff out, crossing my arms like a child. “You playedbaseball, Grady. Throw better.”

His smile is so bright and goofy I want to crawl to him and kiss it off.

“Yeah, I did play baseball,Genevieve.“ He lets hisvoice drop an octave when he says my full name. “But if you remember correctly, I was acatcher.“ To prove his point, he tosses another piece in the air and leans to the side to catch it.

And I hate him for making such a valid argument.

“Whatever. Rematch.”

Grady

Vivi didn’t win.

I lean back on her couch, my feet propped up on her coffee table, while I watch her get another snack ready. Her feet shuffle from cabinet to cabinet as she looks at the contents. Her lilac pajamas hug her body like a glove but my favorite thing about her at this moment is the small smile that she can’t wipe off her face.

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