How to Be the Best Third Wheel by Loridee De Villa

Author:Loridee De Villa [Villa, Loridee De]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Wattpad WEBTOON Book Group
Published: 2022-03-25T17:53:59+00:00

Tip Fifteen:

Understand the Appeal

of Couple Interaction

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I used to argue that the best part about being single is the fact that you get the bed all to yourself. Couples who sleep together have it the worst; they have to endure people snoring like bulldozers beside them, they have limited space, and they have to share a blanket.

Sure, they can tell you things like it’s great to cuddle or whatever—but in the summer, when there’s a heat wave? It’s excess body heat in one place, putting them at a risk for heatstroke or something. Do you know what’s ten times better than cuddling? Being able to sleep in starfish position, climbing salamander position, or any way you want because nobody is in your way.

Then again, I had never experienced sharing a bed.

The sound of soft, rhythmic breathing greets my ears. I let out a yawn and try to shift my body but find myself unable to move freely.

Something is wrapped around my waist.

My eyelids fly open.

An arm. An arm is wrapped around my waist.

His grip loosens and I turn to face his chest, rising and falling like a soft wave. His eyes are still closed, with long lashes grazing his skin. A lock of hair curls perfectly in the middle of his forehead, looking lighter in the morning sunlight. Still mesmerized by his features, I can’t help but be frozen.

Finally, he wakes up, dark-brown eyes catching the sunlight and becoming a mixture of honey and chocolate. “Hey,” he croaks, voice still rough, giving me a small smile. Those dimples are going to kill me.

“H-hi.”

Holy crab apples and sauce. He’s just staring at me. And smiling. And not letting go. Maybe I’m not fully awake yet, but I don’t think I want him to. I don’t know what to do. I can’t move or smile back or blink or do anything.

He pushes a strand of my hair behind my ear, and the feel of his fingertips brushing against my neck sends something akin to an electrical shock down my body. The taserless electrocution invokes panic and I fall off of the bed, landing with a big thump. Through the pain, I manage to hear loud, obnoxious laughter. And . . . I want to kill him again.

I get up and he’s almost crying through chuckles. Heat rises from my neck to my cheeks. It’s too early to be this humiliated. “Stop laughing, you idiot!”

Sitting up, he extends both arms in my direction. “Why don’t you just come back here and we can get back to cuddling? Aren’t you cold?” he teases, as my face flushes red and I so obviously look like I’m about to burn.

Before he can get a chance to make fun of me again, I hop onto the bed, grab a pillow, and whack him with it as if my life depends on it.

“Okay! I’ll stop laughing!” Ironically, he tells me this while wheezing from laughter.

The pillow slams against his arm. “I’ll”—hit—“kill”—hit—

“you”—hit.

He hurriedly wraps his arms around me, trying to stop me from murdering him via pillow.

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