The Bookworm's Guide to Faking (The Bookworm's Guide #2) - Emma Hart Page 0,42
find something to watch. Not that I was sure that anything I chose would stay very long—Holley would likely change it as soon as she got in here.
The bathroom door opened, and she stepped out, peering at the TV. “I’m not watching sports.”
I sighed. “How about a movie?”
“How about Netflix?”
“I’m not sure the hotel has Netflix.”
“What kind of third world country is this?” She dropped onto the bed next to me and snatched up the huge bag of cheese popcorn. “What hotel doesn’t have Netflix?”
“When was the last time you stayed in a hotel?”
She paused, then reached up and pulled some clips from her hair. Her curls tumbled down, and she shook her head from side to side, sending them flying.
“Ooh. That was a bad idea.” She pressed her fingers to her forehead. “What were you saying?”
“I asked you when the last time you stayed at a hotel was,” I said, trying not to laugh. Tipsy Holley was kind of cute.
“Oh. I have no idea. When do I have time to visit hotels, Sebastian? I have a business to run and two unruly best friends to keep in line.”
“Do they know that’s how you refer to them?”
“I should hope so. I’ve been saying it for fifteen years.” She met my eyes and shoved a handful of popcorn in her mouth. “They’re just not as organized as I am. Sure, I forget birthdays, but we never run out of ink in our printer.”
“Your priorities are… interesting.”
“Can’t run a business without printer ink.” Another piece of popcorn went in her mouth.
“But you can forget your best friends and business partners’ birthdays?”
“They remind me. Also, I have reminders seton my phone that recur every year. They’re linked to my Google account so I don’t have to set them every time I upgrade my cell.” She grinned. “Now that is organization.”
“That’s a little scary, Holl.”
“Holley,” she said. “You say scary, I say efficient. Po-tay-to, poh-tah-to.”
“Scary and efficient aren’t even close to each other in definition.”
She shrugged. “Whatever. It made sense.”
As long as she thought so. “Hey, look, it has Netflix.”
“Bingo! Schitt’s Creek!”
“Schitt’s Creek?” I asked, my button hovering over the ‘guest’ profile. “Really?”
“What’s wrong with Schitt’s Creek?” Holley asked, crossing her legs. “It’s a great, feel-good show. Takes a few episodes to get into, but that’s the beauty of binge-watching. You can get into it in one go.”
I blinked at her. I really wasn’t sure how to respond to that. Mind you, I never really had the time to binge watch anything until recently. I just wasn’t sure Schitt’s Creek was the one I wanted to start with.
“I dunno,” I said slowly.
She reached over and plucked the remote from my hand before I could do anything. She flashed me a grin, then turned to the TV and proceeded to enter Netflix and hit the search icon so she could put on whatever she wanted.
I was shocked.
I grabbed the share bag of Doritos and sat back again, watching as Holley navigated to the listing and put Schitt’s Creek on despite my weak protest. “I can’t believe you’re making me watch this.”
“Okay, look.” She bounced on the bed as she turned to look at me. “It’s not that bad. It’s a great show. It’s funny and weird and all the good stuff that makes things funny.”
“I’d be worried if a funny show wasn’t funny.”
“Hardy-har. Aren’t you the comedian?” Her tone was dry, but her eyes glinted with amusement. “You know what I mean. It’s not like the episodes are an hour long. Sit through two and if you really, really hate, I’ll choose something else.”
“You’ll choose something else?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Surely it’s my choice if I don’t like your choice.”
“I’m not watching ESPN. I hate sports.”
“You’re sitting next to a baseball player.”
“I didn’t say I hated what they wear, did I?” She raised one eyebrow. “Mabel is onto something with the baseball pants, that’s all I’m saying.”
I grazed my teeth over my lower lip. “Noted.”
“What’s noted?”
“That you like baseball pants.”
“On other people, Sebastian. Not you.” She climbed under the covers and tucked herself in, then dragged the popcorn bag closer to her so she could probably eat the whole lot.
It’s what I was planning on doing with these Doritos.
My coach was going to kill me.
My runs were going to have to double every day to work this off.
Five minutes into the show, I said, “I don’t get it.”
“How do you not get it?” Holley peered over at me from where she was lying back, propped up on her elbow.