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I roll my eyes. “Here’s a solution: Don’t eat my damn pizza.”
Bentley starts picking off the olives and flicking them into the box. “Nah, this works.”
While Bentley and I are arguing about the pizza, Reed sets the drinks down and takes a seat next to Ainsley. The only remaining spot on the couch is to my right, which Kingston quickly occupies, effectively wedging me between him and Bentley.
Great.
“So much for giving me time,” I mutter.
Kingston's stupidly full lips tilt up in the corners. "One of these days, you'll learn patience is not my virtue."
“Oh, trust me, I’m already well aware of that.”
Now he’s full-on grinning. “Then what’s the problem?”
I shoot daggers at him with my eyes. “You. You are my problem. I swear I’ve mentioned this before.”
Bentley swings his arm over my shoulders. "Pull them claws back in, kitty. C'mon, what's the big deal? We're all just here to chill and watch some movies. Hell, I'll even order more food, so you don't have to worry about sharing your gross-ass pizza."
“My pizza is not gross,” I pout.
Bentley laughs. “Whatever you say, baby girl.”
“Don’t patronize me, Bent.”
He presses a palm to his chest and gasps. “I would never. I’m just sayin’, if you want to make out with me during the movie, could you maybe pop a mint first?”
I give him my best stink-eye. “Don’t worry, Bentley, my mouth won’t be getting anywhere near yours.”
“We’ll see about that.” He winks.
Kingston reaches over me and smacks Bentley on the back of the head. “Shut up, asshole.”
Bentley rubs the back of his head. “Dick move, bro.”
Kingston narrows his eyes. "Keep your hands to yourself, and we won't have a problem."
Bentley shakes his head and mutters something under his breath.
“Uh, guys,” Ainsley interrupts. “Can you pause the sword fighting so we can watch the movie?”
Kingston gets off the couch and flips the overhead lights off.
“Hey! What’d you do that for?” I ask.
He falls back onto the cushion beside me. “There was a glare on the screen.”
No, there wasn't, but I keep my mouth shut because I'm sick of missing the show. I do my best to focus on the fast cars and man candy on the screen, ignoring the idiots on either side of me. Sadly, I'm only doing a half-assed job because Kingston's woodsy cologne smells way too mouth-watering. I actually sniffed him at one point, but he didn't call me on it if he noticed.
Halfway into the third movie, I get fidgety because I really need to stretch out, but the sectional isn't large enough. It's supposed to seat eight, but the three giant boys and their incessant need to manspread take up a large chunk of space. After several pathetic attempts to rotate my body, I finally give up with a huff.
Kingston leans into my ear. “What’s wrong?”
“I can’t find a comfortable position.”
“Would lying down help?”
“Probably.” I shrug. “But there’s not enough room to do that.”
