38.5

“We’re not watching a romantic comedy tonight,” Raffi declares, grabbing a handful of popcorn and putting it in his mouth. “And don’t give me that look.”

“What look?” I ask, crossing my arms.

“That one, like a lost puppy.”

“I’m not making any face, but it’s unfair that you always choose the movies,” I complain.

“Hey, it’s a rotation,” Kyle interjects, making me turn to my right, where he’s lounging on the couch.

“Oh, sure. The only problem is that you three”—I point to all of them—“have the same taste in movies, so we always end up watching some action film.”

“And when it’s your turn, we have to watch that movie about the singing girls,” Raffi argues.

“It’s been almost a month since we watched ‘Pitch Perfect,’” I counter, looking from one to the other. “Seth, help me out here, it’s my turn.”

“No, it’s not, Bumblebee. It’s mine. Last week was Kyle’s, the week before was Raffi’s, and before him, it was yours. Next week, you can pick whatever you want,” he says with a smile, grabbing the remote, opening the streaming service, and selecting the film of the day: “Taken.”

“Seriously, Seth?” Kyle asks. “You know it by heart.”

“I like it. It’s my turn. When you made us watch ‘Tokyo Drift’ for the millionth time, nobody complained, so just shut up and watch this masterpiece.” He presses the button on the remote, and the movie starts.

“Raffi, turn off the lights since you’re closer,” I ask.

“No, no, wait.” He gets up, and I immediately feel the temperature difference when he leaves. “Pause that, I need to get more popcorn.”

“Bring me a Coke,” I ask with a smile.

“And more beer,” Kyle adds, draping an arm over my shoulders and pulling me closer to him.

“And for me too,” Seth requests.

“Do I look like a waiter to you?” Raffi asks from the door.

“You don’t want me to answer that, brother,” Kyle teases. Raffi throws his arms up and heads to the kitchen with Apollo in tow.

Banguela remains lying at Seth’s feet, peacefully snoring. Cerberus, who was lying on the floor near me, apparently decided it would be a good idea to take the spot on the couch next to me, exactly where Raffi was a minute ago. The Rottweiler rests his head on my lap, and I pet his ears and give him some popcorn.

“Is this a joke?” Raffi asks, his hands fully occupied as he balances all our orders. “Cerberus, move,” he commands, but the dog just lifts his head slightly and then returns it to my lap, calmly ignoring him.

Raffi hands out the drinks and returns to his spot, reaching his arm out as if to push Cerberus away.

“Leave him there, Raffi, poor thing,” I say.

“Poor him? What about me, babygirl?” he asks, placing a hand on his chest with feigned distress.

“You left,” I shrug. “Haven’t you heard that those who go out lose their spot?”

“And where am I supposed to sit now?” he asks.

“Anywhere. I want to see the movie,” Seth complains.

“I’ll find a place for you, Martinez,” Kyle says, and the arm that was around my shoulders slides underneath mine, lifting me onto his lap and wrapping his hand around my abdomen.

“Damn, why didn’t I think of that?”

“Because you’re dumb,” Seth replies to what was a rhetorical question.

Raffi turns to him. “I’m not the one sitting alone in the corner, brother!”

“I’m starting the movie; stay quiet.”

“Someone turn off the lights,” I request as the opening credits appear on the TV. “Thanks, Raffi.”

One of Kyle’s hands rests on my thigh while the other plays with the hem of my pajama shirt. His fingers cause tiny shivers, and I shift to get more comfortable, fully aware of his muscular body against my back.

“I think this is my new favorite way to watch TV, Sunshine,” he murmurs against my ear, making the hairs on my neck stand up, before pulling me even closer to him.

Is this movie really that long?