Page 161 of Devious Lies (Cruel Crown)
“No.” She toyed with the hem of her shirt, teasing me without ever realizing it. “Only recently.”
“What did you use before?”
“My ex from freshman year’s account. I dated him for, like, two days. He cheated, but I got four years of Netflix free. I think I came out victorious in that relationship.” She leaned against the couch back. “He changed the password a few days ago.”
“He didn't know you were using his account?” Something about her right now didn’t add up. “Isn’t there a watch history?”
“The trick is to create a new user each time you watch and delete that user when you’re done watching. Silent revenge is the best revenge.”
Her words spiked my impulse.
I wanted to slam my lips onto hers for a second kiss, but I kicked my feet onto the coffee table and sunk deeper into the couch. “You remind me of Delilah.”
“A compliment. She’s smarter and hotter than you.” She retrieved her quilt. “She should be running the company.”
“It’s like you’re asking to get kicked out.”
I could have kicked her out, but I wouldn’t.
Reed had plans of proposing or whatever, and I had... a company I couldn’t give two shits about; a friend I couldn’t bring myself to call my best friend, even though she deserved it; Durga, who was acting weird; and… Emery.
“You can’t kick me out.” Her flippant tone suggested she knew I wouldn’t. “It’s my birthday next week.”
“According to you, the day that doesn’t make people special.”
“Why is it that you're the one who gets me? When the hell did that happen?”
More pressing question—when had she become so candid about us?
Rather than answer, I ordered delivery from every restaurant still open because she looked like she needed ten cheeseburgers, and I wasn’t giving her an excuse not to eat one.
“We could watch a movie while we wait,” she offered. “Warning—I’m picky, and given the circumstances, I don't have a Netflix queue, which means it takes me forever to pick.”
She grabbed the remote and scrolled through the options. “I’ll read the recommended list, but it’s mostly Chantilly and Ida Marie watching on the account. Beauty and the Beast?”
“If you'
re into Stockholm Syndrome. Sleeping Beauty?”
I imagined hell consisted of Chantilly’s Netflix queue on repeat.
“Because kissing solves everything?” Her lips parted when I glanced at them. “Not to mention the DubCon. Aladdin?”
“Rub until something comes out. Great lesson to teach children.”
“That one’s realistic. Lying and stealing always lands you the girl…”
One of the night guards interrupted us with bags of delivery. Peruvian. Tunisian. American. America’s bastardized take on Italian. Emery grabbed the Tunisian first, dug through it, and took the first bite out of every item before settling on the Shakshuka.
We ate our way through four cuisines, scrolling through Chantilly’s Netflix queue and ridiculing every movie until we found one both of us agreed with. John Wick, because contrary to Delilah’s belief, I didn't hate dogs. Just ones that resembled rats.
I shoved our leftovers into the fridge and sat down again. She glanced at me every minute, fixated on my lips like she wanted to kiss me. At this point, neither of us pretended to watch the movie.
I opened up Candy Crush, because I needed to do something with my hands or I’d cover her body with mine and kiss her until her lips bruised. She pulled out her sketchpad and shaded in a design.
The night continued like that. I moved up ten levels. She watched John Wick while sketching fashion designs on her pad. Really, I had no reason to be here other than the penthouse was empty and I enjoyed Emery’s company.
There.
