I shake my head.
He motions to his attire. Boxers. Just boxers. “You know how it is.” He nods to the closed bedroom door at the end of the hallway behind him. “Keep it down. She’s sleeping.”
“You’re a gentleman.”
He chuckles. “Hey, just because it’s one night, doesn’t mean I can’t show her a good time. Or do you even remember that shit?”
“It hasn’t been that long.”
He motions to the door behind me. “Three months? Four? Six? That’s a fucking eternity. Remember when Dean got his Prince Albert? He nearly died doing six weeks.”
“I try not to think about Dean’s dick.”
“Hard to avoid when he’s always bragging.”
“Yeah.” I press the door closed. Click the lock. I want to tell him to fuck off, but it’s not like I can deny the allegations. It’s been a while.
He moves into the kitchen. “You look like hell.”
I feel like hell.
“You want coffee?”
“Yeah.”
Walker’s walls are covered in Star Wars posters.
“You okay?” He spoons coffee into a reusable filter.
“Saving the planet?”
He cocks a half smile. “You just figure that out? I talk about saving for a Tesla every fucking day.”
“It’s flashy.”
“True. It’s gonna be awhile now. All that money is going to Inked Hearts.”
“You regret that?”
“Fuck no.”
“It’s a lot. But it’s…” I want to say it’s perfect. It is. It’s everything. But my head is a mess. Kay read my journal. The betrayal of that stings. But it’s not what has me all fucked up.
It’s thinking of her poring over the pages.
She knows every dirty thing I want to do to her.
And she’s still around.
She fucking wants it.
Kay, the sweet girl who can’t cook anything but almond butter and jelly sandwiches, who chooses vanilla ice cream, who owns a fucking rainbow of cardigans—
She wants it rough.
“Earth to Brendon?” Walker asks.
“Yeah?”
“You okay?”
I don’t say anything.
“You don’t look okay,” he mumbles.
“I’m not.” It’s all I can get out. This is such a fucking head trip. I can’t sew my thoughts together. I can’t reconcile the two versions of her in my head—the virgin who blushes at the mere mention of sex and the dirty girl who wants to be tied to my bed.
“Fuck.” He laughs. “That must be bad.”
Yeah. It must. I’ve known the guy for ten years, and I’ve never admitted I’m not okay.
“Go.” He motions to the couch. “Sit. I don’t want to watch you mope while standing.” He tries to play it off as a joke, but concern seeps into his voice.
I plant on the couch. Tap my fingers against the armrest. This is a nice apartment. Leather furniture. Sleek appliances. Framed posters all over the walls. A bookshelf overflowing with DVDs. Mostly sci-fi.
I motion to the box set of Star Trek. The Matrix trilogy. Japanese films I’ve never heard of. A whole row of action movies. “How come we never watch this shit together?”
The coffee maker drips. Walker moves forward. Rests his ass against the kitchen island. “You know you can just ask for help.”
I say nothing.
“You can just invite me to do shit.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
In theory, yeah. In practice… I motion to the closed bedroom door. “How was it?”
Walker chuckles. “You’re so bad at this.”
I arch a brow.
He mocks my tone. “How was it?” He laughs. Shakes his head. “Fuck. You know, I always thought you had your shit together. But I guess you’re even denser than the rest of us.”
“Been telling you that.”
“Guess I should have listened.” He brings the mugs to the coffee table then takes a seat. “I’m gonna put on something. If you beg, I might have mercy on you and make it an action movie.”
“You really want me begging?”
“Yeah. I don’t get off on that shit like you.” He chuckles. “Not even gonna deny it?”
“Why would I?”
He shrugs. “You never talk about it either.”
“What’s to say?”
“Fuck, Walker, you should have seen the woman I fucked last night. I had her tied to my bed. I had her coming so hard she nearly snapped my neck.”
“Sounds more like Dean.”
Walker laughs. “True.” He settles into the couch. “Fuck. You’re too pathetic. I’ll have to put on The Matrix or some shit. I feel guilty.”
“You’re kind.”
He laughs. “I know.” He motions to the bedroom door. “She was sweet. Shy. Your type.”
I flip him off.
He turns toward me, folds one leg over the other, shakes his head. “Are you going to make me guess what happened?”
“Are you interested?”
“Fuck. What the hell is wrong with you? We’ve been friends for ten years. If I didn’t care, I would have left you waiting outside.”
I say nothing.
Walker shakes his head. “Have it your way.” He grabs the remote. Flips on the TV.
It’s an infomercial for one of those ab toning belts. A man is showing off his brand spanking new six pack next to a picture of his formally round midsection.
“Not sure what’s more BS. This product. Or you acting like—what the fuck happened anyway?”