Page 44 of Teach Me to Laugh

His lips curled, “Now who’s been watching too muchGame of Thrones?”

“Oh,” I debated on tossing the throw pillow I’d brought from my apartment with Raina. It was teal and itsodidn’t match Beckett’s dark bachelor living room. “Shut up.”

He chuckled and walked into the room, giving the television his attention. Then, with a crook to his neck he looked back at me, “What’re you watching?”

“Nothing as brilliant as our show.”

“This is romantic, peanut. You have to have a bit of a heart to watch something like this.”

“Oh,” This time when the urge to toss the pillow struck, I didn’t deny it.

“Oomph,” he laughed, and of course, because he was practically perfect—he caught the pillow. “Don’t get defensive, babe. I won’t tell anyone, I promise.”

“I like to make fun of all the clichéd sap they put in these things. Raina and I used to do this a lot.”

“That’s damaged.”

“What?” Seriously, a girl couldn’t keep up with this man even if she was paid. And I most definitely was not.

“Damaged. That’s something those sad women on those Valentine’s Day movies would do. The ones who never have anyone to share it with, but really want someone to share it with, even though they pretend to rock being single.” He explained, his eyes never leaving mine. “It’s damaged.”

“Well, nobody said I wasn’t rocking the damage.”

“You’re not damaged.”

“Oh?”

“You play it like you are, and might even think you are, but it’s bullshit.”

“You’re making me miss the best part.”

“I am?” He waved to the TV. “Let’s hear it. Make fun.”

“No.”

“Why?”

“It’s not as fun without Raina.”

“Not nearly as damaged as you play to be.”

“Go study, Beckett.”

“Right on it, babe.” He turned and moved into the kitchen. I had to force myself to watch the remaining thirty minutes of the movie when all I wanted to do was crawl into my bed and pull my panda to my chest. And possibly cry a little.

But I didn’t do that. I watched the whole thing until the credits rolled, doing exactly what Beckett accused—playing at my damaged.

Then I stood, flicked off the system and padded into the kitchen. It’s the Wednesday before Christmas and with two busier than busy days of school left, I utilized my day off fromthe Library to do a little grocery shopping for the ingredients I needed for my famous lasagna. Seriously, my lasagna kicked ass.

It was cheesy, meaty, and saucy. I’d told Beckett about it a few times, but had yet to make it. I decided today that I’d get right on that, so that Beckett would have supper for the next two days while I worked and he studied. Beckett loved left-overs and he never wasted food, so I didn’t mind making a little extra when I cooked.

And I had to admit, although I’d never do such a thing out loud, that Ireallyliked to cook for Beckett. I liked knowing that I was able to give him something he didn’t already have.

“You made lasagna?”

“I did.”

“When?”

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