"It's not going to happen. It doesn't matter."
"It is. And it does."
I finish rinsing her hair. Move on to shampoo.
"Why... why don't you want to tell me?"
I press my lips together. Rub Emma's scalp a little harder. Avoid her attempts to look me in the eyes.
"You'd tell me if you were into my brother."
"Don't be ridiculous, Em."
"Is it though? You guys have been hanging out a lot."
"Because he's always here."
"You're different around him. Nervous. Giggly."
"I don't giggle."
"You do. You... I mean, I get that he's hot. You're not the first person who's said that."
"They're all hot."
"True. But you look at him in this way. Not like he's your brother."
"He's not my brother. He's your brother. He's my..." Well, he's my nothing right now. "He's my friend." I grab the shower head and bring it to her hairline. "Close your eyes."
She does. "You keep insisting he's hot and not annoying."
"I take the latter back."
"You can tell me, Kay. I won't be pissed you like him. It's not like you'd ever act on it."
Right. It's not like I'd kiss him in the middle of the night.
I try to focus on rinsing Emma's hair. On anything but the feelings whirring around my gut.
There. She's done.
I turn the shower head off. "You want to do this now." I motion to the bottle of Special Effects dye sitting on the bathroom counter.
"Let's air dry a little first." She sits up. Gathers her hair in one hand and squeezes. "Whatever it is that's bugging you, you can tell me." Her voice is soft. Earnest. Hurt.
She thinks I'm locking her out.
God, the way she's looking at me like I don't trust her anymore.
I can't take it.
I can't lose Em too.
Words jump out of my mouth without stopping in my brain. "It's Dean."
Her jaw drops. "Really?"
"I know. He's too old. He sleeps with a different woman every night. He doesn't take anything seriously. But—"
"He's hot. Confident. Funny. I get it."
"Yeah. But I don't actually want to be with him. That would be terrible."
She nods. "Oh." Her eyes light up with an epiphany. "No wonder he bet Brendon you're not a virgin. Then offered to pop that cherry." She laughs over his dirty words. "You should take him up on it."
"I don't know."
"Or maybe not." She sets her hand on my shoulder. "When you like someone, you get attached. And Dean isn't the kind of guy you want to be attached to."
I nod.
"But if you do want him to be your first... I can help." Her eyes light up. "Think about it."
"Sure."
"And think about how we're going to hide it from Brendon. Pretty sure he'd kill Dean for that."
"Right."
"You have any idea what he's pissed about?"
"Brendon?"
"Yeah."
"Who knows with him?"
She nods. "You think he'll get over it soon?"
"I hope so."
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Kaylee
Emma (now with hair in the perfect cool shade of red) and I (still dirty blond) arrive at the shop a few minutes after eight. Walker and Dean are quick about insisting we ride with them. And about making conversation. Mostly with Emma. Mostly about nothing important.
They get almost all the way to the 405 then turn left. On Sawtelle. Toward Little Osaka.
Oh no.
I turn toward Em. "Don't tell me."
"Don't tell her we're doing karaoke?" Dean teases. "Okay. I won't tell you that, Kay."
Karaoke. Ugh. I can't sing in front of people. I can't even sing in the shower if I know someone is home.
"We're counting on you rocking some emo songs," Walker says. "Really selling that pain."
Emma laughs. "You can admit you're jealous of guys who can pull off eyeliner."
Walker chuckles.
"You two should do a duet," Dean says. "Which of you is Aladdin and which is Jasmine?"
Uh...
"I won't make a joke about wanting to ride your carpet." Dean winks at Emma. Turns back to the road. Pulls into the tiny parking lot of the strip mall on the right.
The private room karaoke place is right there. I know it well. How could I not? It's the only all ages place on this side of town. I can't even begin to count how many parties I've been to at this place.
And how many times I've avoided singing or only joined in on the big, group numbers.
I love music. I love singing. It's just I don't love singing with other people around. It's too personal.
Songs dig at my guts. They force me to confront feelings deep inside me. I'm not about to do that for show.
Especially not when my guts are such a mess.
Brendon.
Grandma.
My parents.
I don't want to feel any of that. I want it far away. I want to forget everything.
I try to come up with something I can sing, something that will label me a good sport without making me feel anything, as we park and make our way to the karaoke joint.
It's as divey as it's ever been. Narrow halls with bright carpet. Beige walls. Blue doors.
Our suite is at the back of the hall. A shiny silver disco ball casts light over the powder blue couches. The song books are sitting on the low table, right next to a bunch of two liter bottles of soda and a large carafe of water.
Emma plops on the couch and pours us two glasses of diet. "So." She hands me my glass then looks to Dean with a smile. "What are you singing?"
"Good things come to those who wait." He winks at us.
She nudges me. See. He totally likes you.
I shake my head. This is a bad lie. I need to set her straight. Without giving away how badly I want to fuck her brother.
"What about you, Walker?" Emma sips her drink. "What kind of music do you like anyway?"
"Metal." Dean laughs. "Have we never brought you to karaoke?"
"Never. Fuck you for that by the way." She flips him off.
Dean laughs. "You close your eyes and listen to Walker you think James Hetfield—"
"Who?" Emma asks.
"Fuck, kids today." Dean shakes his head. "Lead singer of Metallica."
"Oh. Yeah. The Enter Sandman guys." Emma sticks her tongue out. "I don't like that stuff. Too loud."
"Not enough boys in eyeliner?" Dean offers.
"I was thinking skinny jeans." She nudges me. "But that's an irresistible combination. Right, Kay?"
"Right." Or Brendon in anything. Or nothing. Nothing would be ideal, really. Not that I'll ever have the chance to see that.
"You should try that look." She motions to Dean. "Some espresso would bring out your eyes."
The door swings open. Ryan and Leighton step inside. Ryan looks slightly less glum than usual. Leighton is wearing her usual pleasant smile, the customer service one required for working at the front desk.