The Bookworm's Guide to Faking It (The Bookworm's Guide 2)

“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.

“How do they lose everything but a town? Why do they retain ownership of that?”

“I always assumed it’s because the town wasn’t really worth anything, but I don’t know. I’m not a tax lawyer. Or the FBI, for that matter.” She popped a piece of popcorn into her mouth. “Although I probably could be in another life.”

“Right. Okay.” A few more minutes passed, and I said, “So if they own the town, why is the mayor such an asshole? Don’t they own him?”

She blew out a long breath. “I’ve never really thought of that. I guess the ownership of the town and council are separate entities.”

I stared at her. “Wow. You really need some reality in your life.”

Holley blinked at me. “Why on Earth would I subject myself to reality when fiction is so much happier?”

“Because otherwise you’ll go insane?”

“Given that I’m lying here with you, I’m already there,” she finished on a whisper. She tossed the popcorn bag on the floor next to the bed and snuggled down under the covers, drawing them right up under her chin. “Now, shh.”

With a roll of my eyes, I dug my hand into the Doritos.

“I said shh, Sebastian!”

That was the end of my snack session, then.

I put the bag on the nightstand and licked my fingers clean of the Dorito dust, then joined her under the covers. There wasn’t much left for me—she was pretty much wrapped up like a little burrito, and I had to tug on it and unravel her a little.

She squeaked and huffed as she readjusted herself and tucked herself in again. I adjusted my pillow so I was comfortable and frowned at the TV pretty much for the entirety of the remainder of the episode.

I had no idea what was really going on here.

My sister loved this show. Hell, my mother loved this show, but I’d really never had any desire to watch it.

“I have no idea what’s going on,” I muttered.

Holley sighed. “I’m not explaining it again. It’s like English class all over again.”

I grinned. “I have no idea what you mean.”

“Oh, come on!” She looked up at me, and I realized she no longer wore any makeup.