Page 53 of Better Than the Movies
“I was distracted by your Potato Head face and the concern that you were going to pass out from lack of blood.” He cleared his throat. “As soon as the image of your ginormo-nose left my mind, I remembered to tell you.”
I tried to picture him on the other end of the phone. Was he still fully dressed, or was he wearing adorable pajamas and snuggling with his dog? “Where’s your room?”
“What?”
I sat up in bed and crossed my legs. “Total random curiosity. Your house is outside my window, and I just realized that I’ve never been upstairs, so I have no idea what side your room is on.”
“Put the binoculars away because my room faces the back. You’ve got no shot of a peep show.”
“Yeah, because that was what I wanted.” My mind instantly conjured the image of his half-naked body in the practice gym. When he’d taken off his shirt and I’d nearly swallowed my tongue. You know, while also bleeding out.
“And I’m not in my room. I’m in the living room, watching TV.”
I got up and walked over to my window. My bedroom was the only one with a window on the side of the house, and when I looked down, I could see the light glowing out their living room window.
“I can see your light.”
“Sucha creeper.”
That made me smile. “What’re you watching?”
“I think the proper line is ‘What are you wearing?’?”
I couldn’t stop smiling—that was so incredibly Wes. It was weird how talking to him was so easy—way easier than texting with Michael. I wasn’t sure if it was because I knew Wes better, or perhaps it was because Wes knewmebetter. He knew I wasn’t cool—he’d always known that—so maybe that was why it felt so relaxed.
I didn’t have to try.
I said, “Maybe if I cared it would be, but I’m actually curious about what you’re watching.”
“Guess.”
I crossed my arms and leaned against the wall, looking out at the side of his house where there were flowering bushes moving in the breeze under his lit living room window. “Probably a game of some sort. Basketball?”
“Wrong.”
“Okay. Is it a movie or a TV show?”
“Movie.”
“Hmm.” I grabbed my beanbag and slid it in front of the window. I felt like I needed to be looking at his house. I plopped down and asked, “So, I need to know. Did you select it, or did you just happen to stop by when remote-flipping?”
“Remote stop-by.”
“Hm. That complicates things.” Mr. Fitzpervert jumped onto my lap and put his front paws on my chest so I would scratch hishead. I approved of the paisley bow tie that Helena must have selected for him, since I’d left him tieless when I was in a hurry that morning. “Um…Gone Girl?”
“Nope. But decent guess. I thought Emily Ratajkowski was brilliant in that flick. Her scene with Affleck is still embedded in my brain.”
“You’re disgusting.”
There was laughter in his voice as he said, “I’m just messing because Iknewyou’d know what I meant. My little Libby is just so easy to get riled up.”
I ignored his comment, the incorrigible boy. “Well, the book was amazing, even without Miss Ratajkowski’s assets.”
“Agreed.”
“Okay.” I tried thinking about what would make Wes stop and watch. “Um, maybeThe Hangover?”
“Nope.”
