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 plop 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?"
"It's complicated."
"Bullshit. Bet I can spell in three letters." He brings his mug to his lips and takes a long sip. It's a Star Wars mug. Black with a white X-wing logo. "What did you do?"
"It was her."
He shoots me an incredulous look.
I nod.
"Fuck. Really?"
Not exactly. It's both of us. It's my fucking head. "It's complicated, but yeah."
He sets his mug on the coffee table. "No fucking way. She's crazy about you. And you're crazy about her. You're just both idiots."
I bring my mug to my lips. Take a long sip. The coffee is perfect. Bold. Just sweet and creamy enough. But it doesn't do anything to get my mind working. I still don't know how to explain this in a way that makes sense to someone else. Or to myself.
"What happened? She cheat on you or some shit? I can't see Kay doing that, but then I couldn't see Bree going the way she did."
Walker's sister got into drugs when she was a teenager. She's still a mess, flitting in and out of rehab, generally causing havoc.
"Didn't she turn eighteen like three weeks ago? Were you really fucking her when she was jailbait?" he asks.
"No. We haven't—"
"You haven't touched her?" He arches a brow. "Really?"
"I haven't." I run my hand through my hair. "She's so fucking young."
"Yeah. But she's not a kid. Kay has been taking care of herself for a long time."
"She's sweet."
"Your type."
"Yeah, but... I'm a fucking pervert," I say.
"No shit. You're into your little sister's best friend."
"No, I mean—"
"What? You like it rough so you're a pervert?"
Yeah, basically.
"Lots of girls like it rough. You should know. You've fucked most of them."
"Yeah."
"But, what, none of them were Kaylee? She's too sweet, too good to be into that shit?"
How the fuck does he have my number?
"Get over yourself, Brendon. You don't have a monopoly on dirty thoughts."
"That's not—"
"With any other woman, you'd be into her inexperience. How is Kay different?"
"She's Kay."
"That's retrograde shit. You're better than that."
No. I'm really not. I shake my head.
"Yeah. You are. Kaylee is an adult. She knows what she wants. If you can't handle that, then you don't deserve to be around her at all."
"Fuck off."
"Strong words for someone who needs my help so badly he's here at four a.m.," he says.
"We're about to be business partners. You're stuck with me."
He chuckles. "No. I want to work with you. I come into work every day because I want to be there. And you do too. You think Ryan or Dean does anything they don't want to do?"
"You have a point?"
"What happened with Kay? What did she do?"
"Crossed a line she shouldn't have." But that isn't the problem. Not exactly. It's my fucking head.
"For good reason?"
"Yeah." I get it. I want to peel back every wall around her heart. I've seen her journal and thought about taking a peek. I've been tempted.
"You really aren't a talker."
"You just figuring that out?"
He shakes his head. "Everybody makes mistakes. Fuck knows I've made a lot. You too. But it doesn't have to be a life sentence. We can all grow. Change. Get better."
I squirm in my seat. This kind of earnesty is not my thing. "Thanks."
"You want to watch this weight loss bullshit or you want to watch something good?"
"Depends on your definition of good?"