He’s carrying two bowls of popcorn, which is unfortunate. I hoped we’d share one bowl for maximum hand-brushing opportunities, but it’s fine.
Until—no.
No, it isn’t fine. Because Penn isn’t alone.
Trailing behind him, wearing a tiger-print onesie and a wide grin, is my brother.
Ryan barrels into the basement, lifts both hands to his mouth, and shouts, “Movie night!”
I let out a sound that’s somewhere between a cackle and a cry. “Ry!” I screech. “What a nice surprise.”
I meant what I told Bridget on my birthday: There’s no such thing as a good surprise.
Penn hands me one of the bowls and sits on the farthest edge of the couch. “Figured you’d want me to invite this guy,” he tells me.
“Mm-hmm.” My voice is tight. “Thanks.”
Ryan, who’s busy surveying the bar spread, reminds me with his mere presence just how silly my plan really is. A tight shirt and a magical kiss. With Penn.What the hell am I thinking?
Even if a kiss could work, I’d never look at Penn again without wanting to pluck out my eyeballs. Avoiding him isn’t an option, either. Not anywhere. In both worlds, our lives cross in far too many directions—with my brother right at the center.
If only I’d circled Devon Sawa’s name in that stupid MASH game.
Ryan tosses Penn a Coors Light and plops down between us, cracking one open for himself. “Just like old times,” he says, knocking elbows with Penn and me.
I feign a smile. I don’t want old times. I want new, temporarily hot times that will catapult me out of here. Ideally, with no memory of what’s transpired.
I take a long, weary sip of white wine.
“Did you tell Penn about your friend?” Ryan asks me, and I cough on the wine.
Penn leans forward. “What friend?”
My cheeks go fire-hot. “Oh. Well…”
“Ruby wants to set you up with someone,” Ryan says.
“Is that right?” Penn’s dimple makes an unwelcome appearance. “Interesting. Who is she?”
“You don’t know her,” I say quickly. “And I’m not sure it’s a good idea, anyway.”
Penn doesn’t let it go. “Why’s that?”
I take another massive gulp of my drink. “You wouldn’t like her,” I say, struggling to swallow it all down. “She isn’t very fun.”
He gives me a strange look.
“Speaking of fun,” Ryan says. “What are we watching?”
My psychological death. The humiliating extinction of all my hope.
Sighing, I gesture for Penn to grab the remote, which seems like an act of kindness—a rare ceding of control—but really, I don’t know how to work the TV. “I was thinking10 Things I Hate About You,” I tell them. It was Bridget’s choice: a movie about two people who change their mind about each other and make out. Admittedly, it felt fitting.
Ryan looks unimpressed. “What aboutThe Hangover?”
Ah, yes. The pinnacle of passion.
Penn clicks through action movies. “The Dark Knight? That’s fun. Homicidal, but fun.”