"What genre?" Rhys perched on the arm of the couch, PlayStation controller in his hands, scrolling through cable offer.
I hesitated, tugging a quilted blanket up to my chin. For once, curling up, knees pulled to my chest, was completely appropriate.
"I usually watch all the bad horror movies on here..."
That was entirely not appropriate. It wasn't a good day for watching impossible-to-kill serial murderers chase teenagers around. It wasn't a good month for that. If we put one on, without a doubt a creepy, over-exaggerated fortune teller would appear, or dumb kids would stumble around a dark cemetery or a haunted hotel and get picked off one by one.
"Of course you do." Rhys shot me a look that might've been amusement or might've been disgusted. It wasn't clearly defined enough to tell,
