"It's easy."
"Do you also eat a lot of egg whites and protein shakes?"
He laughs. "Eggs."
"With yolks and everything?"
"And cheese."
"You have any?"
He pulls the fridge open. "Yeah." He looks to me with a curious expression. "You want eggs for dinner?"
"Whatever is fine."
"We can order something." He closes the fridge door. Points to the menus hanging from magnets. "Plenty of options."
A picture of chicken tandoori grabs my attention. I tap the flyer. "This place."
He picks up a San Diego magnet, grabs the menu, hands it to me.
"You like San Diego?"
"Who doesn't?"
"We used to go there every summer. When I was a kid. We'd stay on the bay. I'd swim all afternoon. My parents would sit in the sun and read. And then we'd watch movies all night. My dad is a big film buff. You guys probably like a lot of the same stuff."
"Shit. You're comparing me to your dad? Is that a kinky daddy thing?"
I laugh. "No. It's just the movies. He's incredibly clean-cut."
"It was just you?"
"And my sister."
"Are you close?"
"No. Not anymore." She shut me out. I understand why she did it. Hell, I agree with her decision. But I miss her. I hate that I have to stalk her on Instagram to get updates on her life.
"Older or younger?"
"Older."
"Mine is older too."
"You just have one?"
"Yeah."
"Sabrina?"
His eyes turn down.
I back up. "Lily."
"Lily?"
"Yeah. My parents had a theme. She tells everyone they got the name from Harry Potter even though the books came out when she was nine."
"No one calls her on it?"
"Not usually."
"What's she do?"
"She's a programmer." Her office is in Santa Monica. It's a fifteen-minute walk from here. Sure, it's Saturday, but there's a chance she's there. She works a lot.
Or she used to.
I don't really know what she's been doing the last two years beyond the snippets I get on social media.
I turn my attention to the menu. Everything sounds good.
My stomach rumbles. It's still weird, craving food. Wanting a flavor. Really feeling hunger.
I used to love Indian food.
But that was a long, long time ago.
"Vegetable curry. Medium." I hand the menu back to him.
"You eat meat?"
"Oh. Yeah. I just like vegetable curry." I brush my wet hair behind my ear. "Is that wrong?"
He arches a brow.
Okay. I'm lacking confidence when it comes to my preferences. But I'm getting there. "You got a problem with that?"
"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."
"What's your favorite?"
"You're holding it."
"Uh-uh. I can't borrow this. That's way too much pressure."
"You'd be doing me a favor if you ruined it. I'd have an excuse to upgrade to a signed copy."
"Why haven't you?"
"Just haven't."
I hold the book to my chest. This is a lot of pressure. What if I lose his favorite book? What if I hate it? What if I fail to find the appeal? But I want to try. I want to love things. And hate them. I want to feel everything again, even when it hurts. I swallow hard. "You have a lot of CDs too."
He laughs. "My high school music taste on display."
I recognize some of the more popular metal and grunge bands. "I've seen worse."
"And I need help with my game?"
I nod. Though he doesn't. At all.
He tugs at my t-shirt. "You want to watch something?"
"Yeah." I scan the rows of sci-fi. There are too many options. "You're really into this stuff."
"Told you."
"You didn't say hi, I'm a sci-fi geek."
"Close enough." His voice is bright. Playful. "You in the mood for anything in particular?"
Too much. I swallow hard. "Something new."
Like this.
Liking him.
Wanting to hang out with my clothes on.
Wanting to learn his secrets.
Wanting to peel back the easy, breezy surfer boy mask and figure out exactly what makes him tick.
Chapter Fifteen
Iris
It feels way, way too good cuddling up on Walker's couch with a plateful of spicy curry and a classic science fiction film.