Page 45 of Penn

Penn doesn’t even look guilty. “Occasionally.” He shrugs. “What can I say? I like a little action.”

Willa bursts out laughing. “I’m dead. I would’ve bet my next paycheck you’d say something likeBreaking BadorYellowstone.”

“Those are solid shows,” Penn says, tipping his glass toward her, “but they don’t have the same… drama.”

“I’m never going to let you live this down,” I tease, bumping his shoulder with mine. “Penn Navarro, closet romantic.”

“Hey.” He points a finger at me, eyes narrowing playfully. “Let’s not throw stones, Mila. I bet you’ve got something just as embarrassing.”

My cheeks warm, but I lift my chin, owning it. “Hallmark Christmas movies.”

King groans. “Oh God.”

“Don’t judge!” I laugh, holding up a hand. “They’re comforting. You always know how they’ll end, and sometimes, a predictable happy ending is exactly what I need.”

“Respect.” Willa nods solemnly. “Nothing wrong with a little cheesy romance.”

King gives her a skeptical look. “And what’s your guilty pleasure?”

Willa doesn’t hesitate. “Bridgerton.”

“Of course,” King mutters, shaking his head like he should’ve known. “All those corsets and scandal.”

“Scandal keeps things interesting,” Willa says with a wink.

“All right, King,” I chime in, leaning on the table. “Your turn.”

King shifts uncomfortably. “The Walking Dead.”

“Bullshit,” Penn drawls, narrowing his eyes. “Come on, man. Out with it.”

A muscle ticks in King’s jaw before he finally grumbles, “Emily in Paris.”

Willa’s mouth drops open, and I clap a hand over my mouth to keep from laughing. “You watchEmily in Paris?”

“Willa started it,” King mumbles, his ears going red. “And now… I’m invested.”

Penn lets out a whistle. “I did not see that coming.”

“Damn, King,” I tease, wiping a tear from the corner of my eye. “I thought you were going to sayTop Gunor something.”

“Yeah, yeah,” King mutters, but his lips twitch. “Laugh it up.”

Willa leans in, her expression turning devious. “Speaking ofThe Walking Dead… if the zombie apocalypse hits tomorrow, what’s your plan?”

The question shifts the entire vibe of the table, the mood turning contemplative because this is serious business. Having a solid game plan is the key to survival.

“Oh, that’s easy.” King straightens, confidence radiating from him. “I’m commandeering a yacht and heading out to sea. Zombies can’t swim. I’ll fish, drink beer, and wait for the world to reset.”

“Smart,” Willa murmurs, clearly impressed. “But what if the zombies evolve and learn how to doggy paddle?”

“Then I’m screwed,” King says with a shrug, making everyone laugh.

“Mila.” Willa turns her attention to me, eyes bright with curiosity. “What’s your plan?”

I wrinkle my nose. “Honestly? I’d probably hide in a closet and hope for the best.”

Penn snorts. “Babe, that’s not a plan. That’s a death sentence.”

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