In the end, I compromise by ordering two pizzas, one with Hannah’s boring-ass toppings, the other loaded with meat and cheese. I cover the mouthpiece and glance at her. “Diet Coke?”
“What do I look like, a pansy? Regular Coke, thank you very much.”
Chuckling, I place our order, then put in the first disc of Breaking Bad. We’re twenty minutes in when the doorbell rings.
“Wow. Fastest pizza delivery guy ever,” Hannah remarks.
My stomach is not complaining in the slightest. I head downstairs and grab our food, then pop into the kitchen to grab paper towels and a bottle of Bud Light from the fridge. At the last second, I grab an extra bottle in case Hannah wants one.
But when I offer it to her upstairs, she vehemently shakes her head. “No, thank you.”
“What, you’re too much of a prude to have one beer?”
Discomfort flickers in her eyes. “I’m not a big drinker, okay?”
I shrug and crack open my beer, taking a deep swig as Hannah rips a piece of paper towel off the roll and pries a gooey vegetable-covered slice out of the box.
We settle on the bed to eat, neither of us speaking as I turn the show back on. The pilot episode is amazing, and Hannah doesn’t object when I click on the next one.
There’s a female in my bedroom and neither of us is naked. It’s strange. But kinda nice. We don’t talk much during the show—we’re too engrossed by what’s happening on the screen—but once the second episode ends, Hannah turns to me and gapes.
“Oh my God, imagine not knowing that your husband is cooking meth? Poor Skylar.”
“She’s definitely going to find out.”
Hannah gasps. “Hey. No spoilers!”
“That’s not a spoiler,” I protest. “It’s a prediction.”
She relaxes. “Okay, good.”
She picks up her Coke can and takes a deep swig. I’ve already demolished my pizza, but Hannah’s is only half done, so I steal a piece and take a big bite.
“Ohhhh, look who’s eating my boring pizza. Can anyone say hypocrite?”
“It’s not my fault you eat like a bird, Wellsy. I can’t let food go to waste.”
“I had four slices!”
I have to concede, “Yeah, that actually makes you a total pig compared to the girls I know. The most they ever eat is half a starter salad.”
“That’s because they need to stay rail-thin so guys like you will find them attractive.”
“There’s nothing attractive about a woman who’s all skin and bones.”
“Uh-huh, I’m sure you’re so turned off by skinny women.”
I roll my eyes. “No. I’m just saying I prefer ’em curvy.” I swallow my last bite before reaching for another slice. “A man likes having something to grab onto when he’s…you know.” I arch my eyebrows at her. “It goes both ways, though. I mean, wouldn’t you rather sleep with a guy who’s built over one who’s a twig?”
She snorts. “Is this the part where I compliment you on your super hot bod?”
“You think I’m super hot? Thanks, baby.”
“No, you think you’re super hot.” She purses her lips. “But I suppose you have a point. I’m not attracted to scrawny guys.”
“Then I guess it’s a good thing Loverboy is shredded like lettuce, huh?”
She sighs. “Would you stop calling him that?”
“Nope.” I chew thoughtfully. “I’ll be honest. I don’t know what you see in him.”
“Why, because he’s not Mr. Big Man on Campus? Because he’s serious and smart and not a raging manwhore?”
Shit, I guess she’s bought into Kohl’s act. If I had a hat, I’d probably tip it off to the guy for successfully creating a persona that drives women wild—the nerd athlete.
“Kohl isn’t what he seems,” I say roughly. “I know he comes off as the smart, mysterious jock, but there’s something…slimy about him.”
“I don’t think he’s slimy at all,” she objects.
“Right, because you’ve had a plethora of deep, meaningful conversations with him,” I crack. “Trust me, he’s putting on a show.”
“Agree to disagree.” She smirks. “Besides, you’re in no position to judge who I’m interested in. From what I hear, you only date airheads.”
I smirk right back. “You’re wrong.”
“Am I?”
“Yup. I only sleep with airheads. I don’t date.”
“Slut.” She pauses, curiosity etching into her face. “How come you don’t date? I’m sure every girl at this college would kill to be your girlfriend.”
“I’m not looking for a relationship.”
That perplexes her. “Why not? Relationships can be really fulfilling.”
“Says the woman who’s single.”
“I’m single because I haven’t found anyone I connect with, not because I’m anti-relationship. It’s nice having someone to spend time with. You know, talking, cuddling, all that mushy stuff. Don’t you want that?”
“Eventually. But not right now.” I flash a cocky grin. “If I ever feel the need to talk to someone, I’ve got you.”
“So your airheads get the sex, and I’m the one who has to listen to you babble?” She shakes her head. “I feel like I’m getting the short end of that deal.”
I wiggle my eyebrows. “Aw, you want the sex too, Wellsy? I’m happy to give it to you.”
Her cheeks turn the brightest shade of red I’ve ever seen, and I burst out laughing.
“Relax. I’m just kidding. I’m not stupid enough to bone my tutor. I’ll end up breaking your heart, and then you’ll feed me false information, and I’ll fail the midterm.”
“Again,” she says sweetly. “You’ll fail the midterm again.”
I flip up my middle finger, but I’m grinning as I do it. “You taking off now or should I put on Episode 3?”
“Episode 3. Definitely.”
We get comfortable on the bed again, me on my back with my head on three pillows, Hannah on her stomach at the foot of the bed. The next episode is intense, and once it’s done, we’re both eager to watch the next one. Before I know it, we’re done with the first disc and moving on to the second. In between cliffhangers, we discuss what we’ve just seen and make predictions, and honestly? I haven’t had this much platonic fun with a girl in…well, ever.
“I think his brother-in-law is on to him,” Hannah muses.
“Are you kidding me? I bet they save that reveal for the end. I think Skylar’s gonna find out soon, though.”
“I hope she divorces him. Walter White is the devil. Seriously. I hate him.”
I chuckle. “He’s an anti-hero. You’re supposed to hate him.”
The next episode comes on, and we shut up immediately, because this is the kind of show that requires your full attention. The next thing I know, we’ve reached the season finale, which ends with a scene that leaves us wide-eyed.
“Holy shit,” I exclaim. “We’re done with the first season.”
Hannah bites her lip and steals a glance at the alarm clock. It’s nearly ten o’clock. We’ve just watched seven episodes without so much as a bathroom break.
I expect her to announce it’s time for her to go, but she sighs instead. “Do you have season two?”
I can’t control my laughter. “You want to keep watching?”
“After that finale? How can we not?”
She makes a good point.
“At least the premiere,” she says. “Don’t you want to see what happens?”
I totally do, and so I don’t object when she gets up to load the next disc. “You want a snack or something?” I offer.
“Sure.”
“I’ll go see what we have.”