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Walker nods.
They're saying something.
I have no idea what the something is. Only that it's some friend/guy/tattoo artist code I'll never understand.
Walker tosses his cell and keys on the floor. Kicks off his shoes. Peels off his socks.
Dean does the same.
They stare.
Walker holds up three fingers. Then two. Then one.
They lunge at each other. Grapple into a wrestling headlock. Then they're knocking each other to the ground.
Dean's pinning Walker.
Then Walker's pinning Dean.
They grunt through a dozen positions.
It would be hot as hell if it wasn't so weird.
No… it's still hot.
But weird.
What the hell?
They're a tangle of limbs, jeans, cotton t-shirts.
Then Dean is pinning Walker. And Walker is tapping the ground for mercy.
Dean jumps—actually jumps—to his feet. He nods okay and offers his hand.
Walker pushes himself up and shakes.
I stare at my boyfriend. "What was that?"
"How we settle shit," Walker says.
I look to Dean.
He cocks a brow. "You got a problem with that?"
I guess not. "You're good now?" Guys are so weird.
They trade a look. How is that not obvious?
Walker moves to me. He leans in to whisper. "I let him win."
"You fucking wish you let me win." Dean shakes his head please. He motions to the locker room. "Flirt with your girlfriend. I'm gonna change." He winks at me. "I won't tell if you picture me naked."
And he leaves.
What the…
"That's really it?" I ask.
