ALLISON’S POV
“I call dibs on picking a movie for movie night,” Katy says from behind me.
I stop grating the carrots and slowly turn around, my eyebrow already lifting before I even fully face her. “No, you’re not.”
“Why?” she demands, and something about it grates on my last nerve, because every single time she picks a movie it’s one of those painfully cliché, not-even-funny romcoms where the plot barely survives its own logic.
And somehow, every single time, she’s the only one laughing. Full-on, head-thrown-back giggling like she’s watching cinematic gold while the rest of us sit there wondering how many minutes it would take to end.
How she hasn’t noticed the collective suffering is beyond me. But then again, Katy never notices anything unless it’s directly happening to her face in
