Page 151 of Make Me Laugh

I shoot him an apologetic smile. “Not if they get my phobia of balls flying towards faces at high speed.”

It’s not often I don’t think before speaking, and this time it sets West up for the comeback of a lifetime.

He lets out this deep, gratifying sigh. “But Joey baby, I’ve seen you take balls to the face plenty of times.”

I walked right into that one, and it still takes me by surprise. My jaw drops, and I gasp. “West!” Laughter follows, but he only chuckles with a smug smile.

“That one was too easy.” He bites his lip and watches me until I’m done laughing so hard I wipe tears from my face. “Come on, let me show you the rest of the house.”

There’s no shortage of bunk beds inside most of the rooms, and West points to a loft with a ladder West said Kell fell down and broke his wrist at fifteen. We end the tour in the master bedroom, its fluffy white comforter sinking around my backpack.

“So, for the video. I have an idea,” West says.

I raise my brow, apprehensive.

“Don’t you trust me?” he asks, stepping into my personal space. His arms are crossed over his chest, and he’s staring down his nose at me. “I’ve been trained by the best. If I can’t do it then I think that says more about my teacher than it does me.”

I shove him out of the room, and the laugh he lets loose on the other side has me grinning like a fool until I have to get serious and freshen up for our last shoot. It might be pushing midnight, but we can’t ignore this until later.

There is no later.

Just as I finish, my phone vibrates with a text.

West

Will you check and see if there’s an extra blanket in that closet?

I find the light switch hidden behind some hanging clothes in the dark walk-in, making it easier to thumb through hangers and check inside totes in the corner.

Me

No blankets, just lots of board games and some old clothes.

Turning off the light, my hand brushes against an unmistakable sleeve, making me pause. I gently pull it from the hanger, examining it.

“No way,” I mumble, a smile forming on my lips as my fingers slide down the white fabric.

When I return the hanger to the top rack, it’s empty.

CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE

THE ONE-EYED DONKEY NAMED KRITTER

HexedHeroine posted a picture to her story: The look on West’s face when I beat him at Mario Kart on 200cc TWICE

Comment: As if he could get any hotter! Look at that pouty lip

Comment: Girl I hope you know how lucky you are MY GOD

Comment: Awww, poor guy, I’ll kiss it better

I would relive last night and the early hours of this morning with Joey like Groundhog’s Day, staying up until the sun peeked through the clouds and we felt like teenagers afraid to get in trouble for never going to bed.

We did eventually fall asleep for a few hours, but that was after we filmed, Joey whooped my ass in Mario Kart—twice—found a photo album full of family pictures, watched three episodes of Friends, debated over me being Chandler or Joey, and then raided the cabinets for food.

We never made it to an actual bed, because my mom spent a heinous amount of money on a couch with moveable pieces, justifying her purchase by saying, “one day you’ll understand what it’s like to be warm and cozy next to a fire on an uncomfortable couch, and you’ll thank me for it.”

I’m not sure this was how she expected to be right, but I would drain my bank account to witness Joey’s sleepy face as she drifted off, cuddled against my side.