Page 20 of Under My Skin
Everett sighs. “I don’t know how I forgot he’s like this.”
More laughter bubbles in my chest. “Yeah, do you even know my brother at all? Why would you leave him in charge of picking a movie?”
Everett comes back into the living room after securing my leftovers in the fridge. This time, there’s a slight quirk to his lips. “To be fair, I’ve only been here a month. I don’t usually live with him. He could have grown out of this.”
“Wishful thinking,” I muse, and Everett flashes me a genuine smile that robs the air from my lungs.
Simon finishes in the kitchen and comes back to the couch with three beers, their glass necks carefully balanced between his fingers. “Look,Role Modelsis the best comedy of all time. You’ll never convince me otherwise.”
I try to conceal my tight-lipped smile as he hands me one of the bottles. “I mean, you’ve seen it more than anyone else. You would know.”
Everett chuckles at my comment and making him laugh might have just become my new mission in life. I glance his way, my smile widening.
Simon hands Everett a beer. “Come on, man. Back me up.”
Everett holds his hands up in surrender, the neck of the bottle secured between his thumb and forefinger. “Hey, I’m fine with watching it. It’s a funny movie.”
Simon finally takes a seat, but the way he’s upright and on the edge of the cushion lets me know this conversation isn’t over. “Thebestcomedy of all time.”
Everett laughs before taking a sip. “I’m not saying that.”
Simon shifts to turn toward me. “Lucy.”
“Simon, just put on the movie. I’m always up for watching Paul Rudd tell that woman she’s stupid in three languages.”
He enthusiastically sets down his beer and reaches for the controller. The gaming console comes to life, and he quickly finds the movie, already knowing exactly which app has it available.
Holding up his hand as if to block Simon out, Everett says to me, “He’s going to say all the lines.”
I nudge my brother with my foot. “Don’t you dare ad-lib this entire movie.”
He pushes my foot away without looking at me and presses play. “You two should be more appreciative of the quality entertainment I bring to the table.”
“He’s right, you know.” I gesture toward the screen and look at Everett. “Where would we be without Minotaur?”
“Probably on drugs,” Everett answers without missing a beat, and my chest warms in appreciation.
Crossing my legs beneath me, I settle into the cushion with my drink. For maybe the first time since Allison got married and left me for newlywed bliss, I’m having fun at home—even if it isn’tmyhome. There’s something about sitting on my brother’s couch and watching his favorite movie with his best friend that has me content. There’s no yelling for me to drown out with noise cancelling headphones. No mess that feels like it’s my burden to clean. No reason to lock myself in my room with my cat.
As the thought hits me, a fluffy tail flicks into view as Pudge braves it into the living room. Since I arrived, he’s been perfectly happy hiding under Simon’s bed with his litter box and food close by in Simon’s bathroom. He’s a calm cat, but I wouldn’t call him a seasoned traveler. I figured it would take a few hours for him to relax and want to show his face.
Clicking my tongue to get his attention, I wiggle my fingers to call him over. Pudge looks between the two guys in the room before picking up his pace and bumping his head against my waiting palm.
“Hey, buddy.” My voice is quiet as I let my fingers sink into his soft fur. I work my way down his spine, and he arches into my touch.
Simon pats the couch next to him with a few loud thumps like he’s summoning a Golden Retriever. “Finally going to let me pet you?”
Pudge’s ears go flat at the sound of the noise, but as soon as I scratch him again, he’s happy.
With a light laugh, I shake my head. “You know nothing about cats.”
Simon takes a sip of his beer. “Because I don’tlikecats, but I figure now that I have one as a house guest . . .” He looks at Pudge before tipping the neck of his bottle toward him. “Cheers.”
Pudge saunters a few feet away to bump against the side of Everett’s armchair, still happily purring from all the love he got from me. Without much of a glance, Everett lets his arm casually fall over the side of the armrest, his long fingers weaving into Pudge’s fur as he roughly scratches and massages his back.
I expect my cat to run at the contact, but he doesn’t. If anything, his purring gets louder as he struggles to find a balance between the attention being too much and wanting to go back for more.
Everett settles deeper into the chair so he can keep his hand on Pudge while he watches the movie. Looking over at me, he flashes a small smile. “I think he likes me.”
