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“Do you know how long I’ve spent cultivating the perfect stream of recommendations on Netflix?”
“Judging by how pissed you are right now, way too long.”
I wasn’t going to argue with that. But still. That was the result of at least three years of procrastination and series binging. All that hard work of being one lazy bitch was now for nothing.
There was no justice in this world.
My day just got worse and worse.
“Whatever.” I threw the remote on the sofa and went to the fridge myself. He moved out of my way, and I pulled out a bottle of wine instead of the water I’d intended on getting before he’d goaded me into seeing the mess of my Netflix account.
I poured a glass and put the bottle back in the fridge. Ethan was already back on the sofa, and when I joined him, he was getting ready to resume the Patriots documentary.
“No,” I said firmly. “Absolutely not. I’ve had sports on all evening at work, and it was absolute hell. Give me the remote.”
He looked at my outstretched hand and choked back a laugh. “You’re kidding, aren’t you?”
“You’re on my Netflix account that I pay for.”
Ethan held up one finger and grabbed his wallet from the coffee table. He pulled a bill out of it and handed it to me. “There you go.”
I glanced at the five-dollar bill. “What?”
He dropped it on my lap. “There. Now I’ve paid for half of it.”
“Are you deliberately this annoying, or is it just a part of your general disposition?”
“It’s you,” he replied without looking at me. “You bring it out of me.”
I grunted, shoving the five dollars in the pocket of my jeans. I’d find it again in a few days and forget where it came from. Like a little surprise for myself.
“Surely there’s something we both want to watch,” I said after one minute of the most mind-numbing interview I’d ever watched. “Come on.”
“Nope.” He played with the remote, tossing it up and down. “Not really.”
“Ethan.”
“Ava.”
I clenched my jaw. “You are impossible.” I reached over to make a swipe for the remote. He was faster than me, though, and he threw his arm out, holding the remote as far away from me as I could.
A little growly noise escaped my throat, and I clambered off the sofa to get it. Fighting a laugh, he switched hands when I got close to it. Even though I was standing up, he still had the advantage because he was so much taller than me.
It sucked.
I leaned over to reach for it, but he moved, jerking to the side. I did the same, going for it again, but my foot slipped on the hard floor, and I fell forward.
And landed right on Ethan.
I shrieked. A big “oomph” left him as he dropped the remote and grabbed hold of me instead. His hands gripped my waist, stopping me from ramming my knee into his stomach.
Or his balls.
His fingers dug right into me. I was frozen in position, half-straddling him, with my hair forming a dark curtain between our faces. I couldn’t move because I did, I knew I’d have to look him in the eye, and I wasn’t sure I could do that right now.
If I did, there was every chance I’d do something I would most definitely regret.
Like kiss him.
God.
I had to move.
I cleared my throat and, with the help of his steady grip, pushed myself up to stand. My legs backed into the coffee table, and I stumbled again, this time sending both my wine glass and Ethan’s beer flying to the floor.
“Oh, shit!” I gasped, jumping over the huge wet mess and broken wine glass that’d shattered over the carpet.
“Jesus, Ava! Were you drinking on the job tonight?”
“Oh, fuck off.” I grabbed damp cloths from the sink and tossed them over to him.
He caught them easily and immediately dropped to his knees to get as much liquid as he could. I grabbed a bowl to squeeze them out in and handed it to him when I went to fetch some towels.
I ducked into the bathroom. There were three hooks, and Ethan’s towel was stretched across all three and my two were on the floor. I frowned, but I didn’t have time to think about that right now.
I rejoined him in the living room where he was muttering to himself with his finger in his mouth. “Are you okay?”
“Cut my finger,” he murmured around it. He pulled it away to look, and it immediately started bleeding.
“Oh, my God. If you get that on my sofa, I’m gonna kill you.”
“Thanks.” He put it back in his mouth.
“Come here.” I tossed two towels on the sofa and kept the third—his, the darkest one.
Ethan got up and walked around the coffee table, completely avoiding the mess on the floor. “It’s not that bad,” he said, pulling it from his mouth again.
