Page 64 of Unwritten Rules

Still, I don’t answer his question. I can’t shake the feeling that something isn’t adding up. Our friendship feels like so much more than some fleeting attraction.

Though I keep those thoughts to myself, instead choosing to pop a brow and jut out my chin in challenge.

“You’re definitely not staying now. Friends don’t share beds with friends, you know!” I cross my arms over my chest to drive the point home even further. “And that’s not up for debate.”

His dimple pops on his left cheek as a smile brighter than a supernova breaks across his face.

“Your wish, littlest DeMarco—”

“I prefer Hellcat, while we’re here being all honest and shit. These constant reminders of my age, or lack thereof, are entirely unneeded, Nathaniel.”

His smile decreases in brightness as he nods his head in acquiescence. “Okay, you grab the snacks whilst I set up.”

Screwing my face up in confusion, I put my hand on his chest, stopping him in his tracks. “What’s there to set up? The TV is right there—”

“Ah…” He wiggles his eyebrows at me. “But I have a surprise in mind.”

He pats his back pocket, and I notice a bulge for the first time.

“Have you got a white sheet?”

“A white sheet?”

“Or cream, I suppose. Light coloured, maybe pastel—”

Throwing up my hands in defeat, he stops as I point in the direction of my bedroom. “Check the closet on the left. I’ll stick some popcorn in the microwave.”

He zooms down the hallway as I potter off to the kitchen and place a packet of popcorn in the microwave.

I head straight to my bedroom and toss my clothes in the hamper by the door before changing into some sleep shorts and a t-shirt.

The microwave dings just as I step back into the kitchen, and I set about making a large bowl of buttery, salty popcorn. Then I grab two ice-cold cans of Pepsi Max from my refrigerator before returning to an empty, silent living room.

“Nathaniel?”

My voice echoes, splintering the silence until I peer through the glass doors leading onto my roof garden. My mouth falls open in shocked delight.

Nate has clearly found that light-coloured sheet he was so adamant about and has tacked it onto the wall of my apartment. He’s also rearranged my garden furniture so that the double seat faces the sheet, and somehow there’s a projector displaying a movie on the sheet.

His mouth is turned upward in a shit-eating grin that I want so badly to mirror but force myself to keep a straight, unbiased face.

Bracing my feet apart, I place my hands on my hips and tilt my head to one side in question. “What’s all this, then?”

I drop onto the seat beside him – obviously on the right because, hello? Always right here. I’m very careful to leave the popcorn between us, though, as I pin him with my stare.

“I brought over a mini projector, littlest – I mean, Hellcat.”

My lips lift ever so slightly on one side at his correction.

“I noticed the garden when I was here last, and…well, it’s the perfect night to enjoy a rom-com under the stars.”

My eyes widen when he says we’re watching a rom-com, a move he doesn’t miss as his smile deepens, making that dimple wink delightfully.

Flourishing a tiny remote control from the pocket of his khakis, he settles back against the cushioned seat and taps the button.

“Without further ado – and for the redemptive day that was today – Hawthorne Productions is proud to present to you….”

He trails off as the familiar opening scene to Never Been Kissed plays across the sheet slash screen in front of us, and I swallow roughly to dislodge the lump that has suddenly appeared in my throat.