Page 44 of Protected By My Best Friend's Brother

“Sophie may have helped stock the pantry.” I turn on the movie, unsurprised when Emma nestles against my shoulder. “She said, and I quote, ‘Emma needs proper snacks for when you have movie night dates.’”

“Your sister knows me too well.” Emma organizes the snacks by what she calls ‘optimal consumption order.’ “Though she forgot the color-coding labels I made for your cabinets.”

It feels like we’ve been doing this forever - her organizing my life while I pretend to protest, both of us knowing I love every minute.

“You’re not even watching,” Emma accuses, catching me staring again.

“More interesting things to look at.” I draw her closer until she’s tucked against my side. “Like how you’ve completely commandeered my hoodie.”

“It’s comfortable!” She burrows deeper into the soft fabric. “Besides, you never wanted any of your clothes back when I borrowed them in the past. I had to insist you take them back.”

“Because you looked better in them.” I rest my cheek against her hair. “Still do. Though I’m pretty sure that’s my third hoodie you’ve claimed this week.”

She tilts her head, the movie forgotten. “You’re being very smooth for someone who once tried to impress me by reciting quarterly projections.”

“That worked, didn’t it?”

“I was already impressed.” Her fingers trace patterns on my chest. “Still am. Even when you’re letting Brighton’s legal threats ruin our movie night.”

“Not ruined.” I catch her hand, bringing it to my lips. “Just delayed long enough for you to reorganize my office.”

When I kiss her, it’s soft, sweet, and perfect. The world narrows to just this - her smile against my lips, her fingers curling into my shirt, the quiet certainty that this is exactly where we’re meant to be.

“Stay,” I murmur against her lips.

Her eyes widen slightly. “Lucas...”

“Not—I mean, just... stay here awhile. Let me hold you.”

Her smile brightens the room more than any boardroom victory ever could. “Planning to recite more quarterly projections?”

“Planning to let you borrow more of my clothes. Though I’ll need to buy a new wardrobe at this rate.”

She settles back against my chest, and we watch the movie for a while, trading commentary and casual touches. At some point, Emma starts doing impressions of the characters, her laughter vibrating against me.

“You know,” she says after a particularly ridiculous scene, “I used to watch these alone and talk back to the screen. Sophie always said it was why I couldn’t keep roommates.”

I hold her closer, smiling into her hair. “Their loss. Your commentary is the best part.”

Emma launches into another impression, perfectly capturing the lead actor’s overblown dramatic pauses, and I laugh harder than I have in years. This is what was missing in New York. Not just Emma, but this feeling of being completely, unashamedly myself. Of having someone who sees past every facade I’ve constructed, who loves both the polished exterior and the mess underneath. Who borrows my hoodies, calls me out when I’m taking myself too seriously, and makes every moment better just by being in it.

“What are you thinking about?” Emma asks softly, noticing my distraction.

“How right this feels.” I trace slow circles on her arm, feeling her relax against me. “You. Us. Everything. How you can take something as ordinary as a Friday night movie and make it feel like the only place in the world I want to be.”

“Even when I’m talking back to fictional characters?”

“Especially then.” I continue the gentle patterns on her arm, feeling her sink deeper against me. “Though I’m pretty sure you’ve already rewritten the ending in your head.”

“Maybe.” She grins sheepishly. “But only because they deserve better than that predictable third act.”

“I don’t know,” I say, twining a strand of her hair around my finger. “Some predictable endings are worth waiting for.”

She yawns, curling closer. “Good. Because you’re stuck with my commentary, and your hoodies are all officially at risk.”

“Worth it.” I watch her eyelids grow heavy. “Though maybe we should invest in a bigger closet. For all your borrowed hoodies.”

“Are you making fun of my collection?”

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