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"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."
