“It is,” he replies instantly. “Beth made way better homemade macaroni and cheese, so I never understood why you kept making yourself this shit instead.”

I’ve always liked it. It was the easiest thing to heat up next to Ramen noodles when Mom was out doing whatever she did. And he is right. Beth, their cook and cleaner growing up, did make delicious food, but I never liked bothering her for any when I was more than capable of making my own. “Don’t judge. You eat cold pizza.”

He laughs again and says he’s going to take a shower. It’s almost nine at night, which is why Ky decided to run. The heat hasn’t been as bad this week, but I made him promise not to go unless it was cool enough. When he told me to stop worrying, I just eyed him while he grinned because he was being a hypocrite.

I’m stretched out on the couch watching Bob’s Burgers with most of my mac and cheese gone when Kyler comes back down, wet hair looking darker than normal, in a pair of gray sweats and white tee that’s fitted to his muscles. He looks to the screen. “Since when do you watch this?”

There’s an entire couch to sit on, but he picks up my legs and sits down on the cushion beside me, draping my legs across his lap. I’m suddenly aware of the fact I need to shave because the stubble on my calves is a few days old, but Kyler doesn’t seem to notice or care when his palm rests on me.

“Chase told me to try it,” I answer, stabbing the last few noodles in the bowl. “He thought I’d like it.”

“Huh.” He watches the screen for a few minutes, chuckling over something that happens to one of the kids. His hot palm rubs my leg absentmindedly, stubble be damned, making me shiver a little with each slow pass he makes up and down. “Do you talk to him often?”

It takes me a minute to peel my gaze away from the TV and figure out what he’s asking. “I guess so. We text almost every day about random stuff.”

He nods slowly, a contemplative look crossing his face. “Sounds like you guys hit it off then.”

The face I make must be comical because he chuckles but doesn’t say anything else.

“Yeah, well…” I shake my head and adjust the sloppy braid my hair is in, tucking a few loose tendrils behind my ear before tipping my chin toward the television. “I’m already ten episodes in, so he was right about the show.”

After finishing my food, I set it on the table and prop myself up with a couple decorative pillows behind me. We watch the rest of the episode and part of another before he turns back to me. “You ready for tomorrow night?”

He’s referrin

g to the episode of Mia’s show that’s airing with us in it. “No, but I don’t have much of a choice now.”

His frown makes me feel bad for putting it that way. “True, I guess. It shouldn’t be that bad. I made sure Gordy got the footage and if he says we aren’t in it much, I trust him.”

An easy smile forms, even though we both know viewers will take even five seconds of footage and make it into something it isn’t. “Me too. Is he still only managing you, or did he take on other clients?” I spoke to him briefly last week asking for a favor, something I rarely do, but it wasn’t like we caught up on life. I probably should have tried before asking him for anything.

“A few.” His eyes trail off like he’s deep in thought for a few seconds. “I’m glad. When I moved to the east coast, he needed to fill his time with more than video calls with me.”

“He didn’t visit?”

“He did.” His tone is strange, cautious, as he looks over at me with a sigh. “It wasn’t often. Him, Mia, and our mother came to see me a few times. Mostly to make sure I wasn’t losing my mind or doing something that would ruin my career.”

I roll my eyes at that. “I can’t see you doing anything wild enough to ruin your career. I’m sure they just said that because they missed you. I know I did.”

He clicks his tongue, looking at me a long moment before answering. “I missed you too. And you’re right. Mom especially wanted to make sure I wasn’t relying on alcohol and drugs to get through my hiatus. She’s seen a lot of people go down that path over the years.”

“That’s so sad.” Not unheard of, though. I know Kyler isn’t that kind of person though. I’ve only seen him drink twice in my time knowing him. Once during a dinner party our parents threw, and another on his twenty-first birthday. It was only one beer each time.

He hums in agreement.

I grab the remote and pause the show, nudging him with the heel of my foot. “You’re acting weird.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Ky.”

“Lele.”

My lips waver into a smile. I secretly love the nickname even if it sounds childish. It reminds me of when I was and didn’t have much to worry about. “Are you ready for the episode to air? I know that you prefer staying out of that kind of stuff.”

Rubbing his lips together, he leans his head on the cushion behind him. “I like my privacy. Shows like that give people a chance to dig up dirty laundry.”

“You don’t have any.”