"No. As long as you aren't gonna steal my chicken curry."
"Maybe a little."
His smile is cocky. "I'll get an extra order. Eat it tomorrow if we have leftovers. You want rice or naan?"
"Rice please."
He nods. Grabs his cell phone from the counter, dials, and orders dinner.
I take in the apartment. It's nice for a small space. Not pretty the way mine is, but still intentionally decorated.
Framed sci-fi posters hang on the walls. DVD cases, paperbacks, and CDs spill from the bookshelf in the corner.
There's a lot of good stuff here. Films I've meant to see forever. And two entire rows of Star Wars extended universe novels.
"It'll be half an hour." Walker moves closer. He slides his arms around my waist. Rests his head on my shoulder.
It's intimate. Too intimate.
But there isn't a single part of me that wants to tell him to stop.
He plants a kiss on my neck. "How's the Star Wars book going?"
"It was good. I finished the next one."
"But?"
"But nothing."
"There's a tone to your voice."
"I liked it." But that was it. Like. I used to eat, sleep, drink those books. Yeah, I'm older. My tastes are more refined. But I loved those books during my snobby phase in college. They were my one guilty pleasure. Ah, simple times.
"Hard to care now that the extended universe is irrelevant."
"Yeah." It was a slight when Disney made the call to throw out a fascinating storyline that I'd been reading for ten years—especially for a less interesting story—but that never offended me. Nothing ever offended me. Or excited me. When I was using all the time, everything was easy. Even. Good.
He kicks a book on the bottom shelf. "You ever read this one?"
"No."
He releases me. Bends to pull the book from its shelf and hands it to me. "You can borrow it."
"I'm not sure I can. That's a lot of pressure. What if I wreck it?"
"Then I'll buy another copy."
Saga. It's a classic graphic novel. I always meant to read it. Now is as good a time as any. And I'm supposed to read.
But what if it feels average too?
I can't keep living without passion. It's dull. Awful.
"You don't like graphic novels?" he asks.
"No. I do." Well, I've only read a few, but I did like them. "Thanks. I'll check it out tomorrow." I turn my attention back to the shelf. "You have a serious collection."
"I do okay."