17.2 Scarlett's Art Of Playing Wingwoman

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"Sleepover?" I announce, grinning widely as I hold up a bottle of coke in my left hand and a bag of takeout in my right.

A pajama-clad William blinks back, frozen in the door to his apartment with his hand on the knob. He looks like he clearly wasn't expecting to find me grinning like a maniac and a very grumpy looking Mira outside his apartment when he opened the door.

"Are you waiting for me to freeze to death?" I ask, trying to bring him back to reality.

He blinks again, a grin breaking across his face. He takes a step to the side, eyeing Mira sheepishly as she purses her lips and folds her arms across her chest. I ignore her as I enter the apartment. She's probably just plotting my murder right now.

"I got burgers since I know we're indoors and don't have to worry about making a mess of our faces," I say, making my way towards William's living room table.

His apartment is small but clean, with one small bedroom to the front and an open kitchen on my right. His furniture is simple but classy, an old-fashioned mahogany and a worn-out brown leather couch facing the small LCD which hides the peeling paint of his wall. I remember when he'd first moved in and listed all the things he'll buy when he gets a job. With his father in prison and his mother taking care of his three younger sisters, William has never wanted to be a burden on his family. They paid his college tuition, that's good enough for him.

"Thank God you have heating," I say, placing the burger King bag and coke on the table and turning around to see my friends in an awkward stance.

William is watching Mira as if afraid of her reaction, while Mira looks like she doesn't want to be here. As for me, I inhale a deep breath and walk towards them, grabbing each of their arms and pulling them along.

"I was thinking we could watch a movie," I say, getting my friends to sit on the couch and walking over to grab the TV remote from the shelf under the flat-screen. "Do you guys want to see something in particular or do we go with whatever's on right now?"

I raise my eyebrows at them and Mira simply rolls her eyes, ignoring me entirely. William, on the other hand, sighs and looks up at me from his spot on the couch. I notice the space Mira has left between him and herself, probably wanting me to sit between them.

"You pick, Scar," he says, sounding defeated.

I can't say enough how badly I want to turn his frown into a smile. The lines on his forehead, the color rising in his dark-brown cheeks, his messy curls falling into his eyes ... how can anyone be mad at someone like William?

Sighing in resignation, I switch on the first movie I can find: High School Musical by Disney.

"Oh, please, shut this fucking shit off," Mira cries out after less than ten minutes of watching agonizing musicals with no plot whatsoever. "Turn on Final Destination or something."

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