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“Should I have invited her?” I ask, glancing back again. “I didn’t think she’d want to watch it.”
“She likes hanging out with you.”
“She does? Are we…friends?”
“Yeah,” he says softly.
I nearly sink down. It hurts a ton knowing this friendship makes no sense to me. Sulli and me. Me and Sulli. In our adult years? We’re friends with Cobalt boys, not with each other.
I try to let that interaction go. Bass helps.
By episode seven, I stand to stretch my legs. “Are there ship names?” I ask him. He’s swigging a water and nods to me. I wonder, “What’s Strider and Callie’s?”
“Stallie.”
“They’re my favorite,” I profess at the TV, but when I look to Donnelly, he has blown back against the sofa cushion in shock, plastic water bottle crunched in his hand. I say, “You’re not a Stallie shipper?”
“You like Stallie?” His face contorts in pure confusion. “Why?”
“It’s mainly Strider,” I shrug, then return to my spot beside Donnelly. “I don’t know he’s…” I frown, trying to unearth the words. “He’s misunderstood. He can’t control his anger, and no matter how much Frost tries to reason with him, it’s not making sense to Strider. Even though it’s clear he’s trying to be better.” The TV screen is paused on a twenty-something guy with an angelic, tortured face.
Donnelly has bent forward, his forearms on his thighs. He’s deep in thought.
It’s not hard to guess where he’s gone.
Sadness heavies the room, and I whisper, “She loves Callie, doesn’t she?”
“You are—were a die-hard Callie fan, yeah. A vocal Frostie shipper, but…” He shakes his head. “I dunno, it makes sense why you wouldn’t love her as much as you did. You don’t remember being called a slut in headlines or being called a sex addict after doing close to nothing. You related to Callie and she reminded you of your mom, too.”
I’m missing the memories of being eighteen in the public eye. My love life would’ve been greater clickbait and more of a free-for-all in the tabloids. I have bits of my birthday, but beyond that, it’s still gone.
I want it back.
I hate that I’m yearning for something that I might never find again.
Donnelly can see I’m sad. “We don’t have to watch the rest now—”
“I want to finish it,” I say quietly.
He tucks me more against his side. The embrace tingles my skin, but it’s not familiar. It’s purely new and warming.
By episode eleven, it’s so late that no one in the penthouse stirs, except a few furry felines. Even Orion has fallen asleep on a leather chair. The dark living room is bathed in the glow of the television.
On-screen, the monster of all twists drops. “Callie is everything?” I question. “Not just a Lust Dominant?” I slowly digest how she’s the most powerful evolved. It puts a weird feeling in my stomach. “Original Luna couldn’t have liked this.”
“You didn’t.”
“Good,” I nod. It feels like they gave extra reasons to make Callie special and likeable to the audience.
“Ready for the finale?” He’s about to press play. “Hold on to your bootstraps.”
“I’m holding tight and buckled in.”
His arm curves around my ribs, tenderly and carefully since they’ve been bruised, and at first all I can concentrate on is Donnelly’s hold on me. His arm. His touch. My lungs balloon with bright feelings I don’t ever remember feeling.
I snuggle against him, my cheek on his collar. He strokes my hair, and I could fall asleep to the motion of his fingers gliding through the strands.
I love this. I’m discovering what I love in being with a guy, but there is a creeping notion in the back of my head telling me, you’ve discovered this before. But with who? And how could this possibly be a feeling I’ve felt with more than one person?
The finale is gripping enough that I pull out of those bad thoughts. “Ohhh whaaa, no way.” I sit up off Donnelly. “No freaking way.” I gape at the television screen. “Nowaynowaynoway.” My hands fly to my head. “Strider is Callie’s son. That’s his mom…” I was shipping a mother and a son! “What the…shit.” I sink backwards, then look over.
Donnelly is grinning.
“It’s not funny. I feel like crying.” I cringe and shiver, all gross inside.
He wraps an arm around me. “I’m not smiling ‘cause I’m happy your ship sunk.”
“No, it burned to a crisp,” I mutter, still not understanding his reaction. “Why do you look happy?”
“‘Cause you were spoiled the first time you watched the finale. It’s cool seeing you watch it without knowing what’s gonna happen.”
I smile. “I got a redo.”
“Yeah, you did.”
“Amnesia perk,” I sing-song. “There aren’t many.”
“We’ll make more,” he says like it’s a real possibility and not fiction. I hang on to the depth of his expression, his sincerity as it burrows into me.
He’s attractive. The way he had been gripping a sandwich today was hot, and I wonder if I always found his mannerisms and his whole being so sexy.
