Long weekend mornings with him. Work. Shower. Crashing in his bed.
Stopping by the shop after school so I can see him before he gets home.
Even though it means if you're going to hang out, help out stares from Ryan.
And attagirl winks from Dean.
Okay, I kind of like the attagirl winks.
It's Thursday, the night of the concert, the night before I leave for New Jersey, and the shop is about to close. I'm already in my I'm totally a rocker chick denim skirt, converse, artfully torn up (by Emma) band t-shirt combination. I'm even wearing heavy makeup.
And I'm sitting behind the counter, watching Brendon work on a sleeve. The tattoo is meant to look like a robot arm, like skin stretched over metal. It's intricate and grueling, and the guy in the chair is gritting his teeth, refusing a break.
God, Brendon looks so handsome with that stern yet caring expression.
"Kinky Kaylee." Dean taps the front desk. He nods to the laptop—my laptop—sitting in front of me. "What are you writing there?"
Em calls me Kinky Kaylee. Sometimes. Why is Dean? Oh. "Did Em—"
He nods. "She came up to me all giggly. Asked if I'd been seeing anyone lately."
"I can explain."
"Nah. Don't. Apparently, I'm the reason you're walking around with that satisfied look on your face."
My cheeks flush.
"I must be quite the fuck."
"You have no idea."
"I'd like to."
I shake my head.
He pushes himself onto the counter. Turns so he's facing the same direction I am. "How long have you been staring at him?"
"I wouldn't call it staring."
"I've been watching. It's staring."
"It's loving appreciation."
"Of his ass."
"Well." I motion to said ass—Brendon is standing to grab something off a shelf. His customer is finally taking a break. "Look at it." It really is a thing of beauty.
"I've seen it."
"Try seeing it without the clothes."
"Been there, done that."
I clear my throat.
"You don't want to know."
"Actually, I do."
He shakes his head. "Nah, Kinky K. It's too kinky even for you."
"Then wouldn't that make me un-kinky K? Vanilla K?"
"Special K?"
I stick my tongue out. "Say it again and I'll—"
"Sic your boyfriend on me?"
Boyfriend. That's a nice word. It makes me warm everywhere. Brendon as my boyfriend. He basically is my boyfriend. Except for the matter of this being a secret from my best friend slash his sister.
And all of my family.
My mom will flip when she finds out.
Okay. The warmth is receding.
"Why have you seen Brendon's ass?" I ask. "Don't tell me you two—"
"Threesome."
"What?" I turn so I can examine Dean's expression. It's earnest. Well, not exactly. But he's not lying. Probably. He's hard to read what with his penchant for fucking with people. "You and Brendon had a threesome?"
"Forever ago."
"Oh."
"It was a nice ass."
"Don't even."
"This guy bothering you?" Walker moves behind the counter. Motions to the appointment book to my left. "You mind if I do some actual business?"
"Who died and made you Ryan?" Dean asks.
Walker looks from Dean to me. "You and Dean, huh? Pretty crazy, how Em seems to think he's blowing your mind."
"Crazy," I agree.
"Must be some book you're working on," Walker says. "To be as kinky as—" He nods to Brendon, now back in the chair, working on the sleeve. "Dean."
"Is this a lecture?" I gather my hair on my right shoulder. "Because I'm not sure I can take a lecture about not lying or about sex or about anything, really from either of you."
"Really, Kay? I can't lecture you about not swimming after getting fresh ink?" Dean chuckles. "That's a good way to get a wicked infection."
"I don't have any ink," I say.
"Yet. With you and Brendon all kissy face, I give it..." Dean scrunches his brow. "Two weeks."
"A hundred bucks says it's longer," Walker offers.
"Can I get in on this?" I ask.
Dean shakes his head. "Third parties only."
Okay. That's fair. And I'm not even pissed about Dean and Brendon betting about my virginity.
Dean did it to push Brendon.
It worked.
Everything worked out.
Everything is perfect.
With Brendon.
Tomorrow...
I'll face tomorrow's realities then.
Dean turns to me. "I'm more than happy to be your beard, but Emma is gonna figure it out. And you know Emma when she gets pissed."
"Yeah." I do. Everyone knows but her. That's going to hurt.
"Damn, Kay. You're looking at him the way a dog looks at a bone," Walker says.
"Well, look at him? Can you blame me?" I ask.
"She used that one on me." Dean laughs. "You're getting my sloppy seconds."
Walker cringes. "No fucking way." He looks to me. "He has a certain charm."
"Emma calls him Mr. Look at What a Brooding Bad Boy I Am," I say.
"She's got him pegged," Walker says.
"Yeah. But he's so much more." I tap my toes together. God, the way that shirt stretches over his strong shoulders. The way all his focus and attention is turned toward his work... He's perfect.
"You're gonna make her jealous," Dean teases.
"Brooding isn't my type." Walker shakes his head.
"You have a type?" I ask. Walker isn't exactly... discriminating.
"Breathing," Dean offers.
"And your type?" Walker asks.
"Breathing and hot." Dean chuckles.
I turn my attention to my laptop. I'm up to four chapters. And it's actually coming together. Even if this book never amounts to more than a file on my computer, it feels good working on it.
"I can't help it I love watching a woman come." Walker's sigh is dreamy. "The groaning. The shaking. The screaming my name—it's fucking poetry."
"They remember your name?" Dean teases.
"Yeah, I know that's never happened to you."
"It's easy. Four letters. Starts with the thing they're begging for."
"D? That's awful."
"Fuck off."
"You first."
Dean turns to me. "Why are you here, Kay?"
"We're going to a concert," I say. "Me, Brendon, and Em."
"Shit." Dean slides off the counter. So he's next to me. Right next to me—there isn't a lot of space behind the counter. "I need to play my part?"
"No. We're picking Emma up on the way." I close my laptop and slide it into my backpack. "But thanks." I'm pretty sure Dean is trying to help. Just in a Dean kind of way.
"Joel's band, right?" Dean asks.