Page 161 of Never Not Friends

I glance up with absolutely no idea what’s happening. “Yeah, maybe.”

Her head moves to me. “You think it’s going to be someone else?”

“What?” My expression’s blank.

She tilts her head, giving me an adorable pointed look. “You’ve already seen this one, haven’t you? And you’re trying not to give it away, huh?”

“No, I swear. This is all new for me.”

“I don’t believe you.” She rolls her eyes playfully and turns back to the television.

But I keep looking at her.

Because Emma watches television with her entire body. Her brows pull together when she’s skeptical. Her nose scrunches when someone says something she doesn’t believe. And every time the documentary presents some supposedly damning piece of evidence, her eyes go wide, and her mouth falls open.

I could sit here and watch her forever.

“It was the neighbor!” she gasps as she pulls her feet up under herself.

Four inches.

And I didn’t even have to do anything on that one.

Her wide eyes travel to me. “Conspira-Vinny, did you see that coming?”

My lips spread into an amused smile. “No, I didn’t, Emma-nati.”

“Are you even watching?”

“Yes, I’m watching intently.”

Her, not the documentary.

She turns back to the screen, not wanting to miss the next big reveal.

I smile because this is what I wanted all week, when I was alone at my house, thinking myself into the ground.

Thinking about Emma.

And now she’s here, close enough that I can smell that same vanilla shampoo I caught a whiff of weeks ago when we were rescuing Chili, but this time, I don’t have to lean away. I’m actively trying to find ways to move closer.

The credits start rolling, and she grabs the remote. “We can’t stop on a cliffhanger. We have to finish the last episode, right?”

“Right.” I’ll keep watching all night if it means I get to stay here with her.

The last episode starts, and we settle in, but halfway through, she stretches her legs out onto the coffee table. Her knee bumps mine. Neither of us moves. I stare at the television—or pretend to—while being hyperaware of the exact point where our bodies touch.

Twenty minutes later, her leg has somehow ended up resting against mine from knee to ankle. I’m not entirely sure who moved; I just know we went from four inches to zero, and I’m fine with it.

Probably too fine with it.

The second the docuseries ends, I’m reaching for the remote. “Should we watch a new one?”

“It’s ten thirty.”

My heart drops a little. “Yeah, I guess it’s getting late.”

She looks at me with a soft grin. “Fine, one more.”