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"I changed my mind."
"You like this coffee house rock stuff?"
"Yeah. It's relaxing. Introspective. It makes me feel calm. And a lot of bands write great lyrics."
"Lyrics?" He tilts his head to one side, playing dumb. "Kidding. I have to know them for karaoke."
"You do karaoke?"
"Sometimes. It's a shop tradition."
"Oh."
"You're welcome to come next time."
"I'll think about it." I hang the towel on the back of my chair. "Do you need to talk to your friend?"
/> "No. He needs to get over himself."
"It's kinda sweet… if he is worried he's going to lose you."
"Yeah. It is. In a Dean kinda way."
"You guys are close?"
"We hang all the time. Have for ten years now."
"That's nice." Really, it is. Even if I don't appreciate Dean's whole hot and cold what do you think you're doing intruding on guy time thing. I don't have any old friends. Three years of drug use was more than enough time to burn those bridges. And all the people I hung with while I was torching my past life are still using.
For the most part, I'm okay with it.
But I really, really miss my sister Lily.
"He can be an asshole, but he always has my back." Walker runs his hand through his wet hair. "Usually. Not today."
"Everyone fights."
"We did."
"I guess you can call it that." I press my lips together. "You promised not talking."
"You want to go again?" He motions to the bedroom. "I can be ready in ten minutes."
"Really?"
"I didn't convince you last time?"
He did. Mmm. It's tempting. But—"I'm starving."
His smile spreads over his cheeks. It really is a nice smile. Beautiful. Radiant. Everything.
Uh-huh. No feelings. It's just oxytocin. It doesn't mean anything.
Think about hot musicians.
Or maybe about how Walker is more appealing than a hundred millionaire rock stars.
He stands, moves into the kitchen, pulls the fridge open. "Shit." He presses the door closed then opens the freezer. "Not much."
