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“You are a scientist, Crone. You’ll tell me it’s hormones, and it will pass, but you can fuck off. I’ve never seen you like this with anyone.”
Kat makes me feel things I’ve never had room for in my life before. Feelings, period. They were never part of the equation.
I exhale, summoning all my courage to spill the shit to the only person I ever confided in before.
“Listen,” I start, feeling the buzz of whiskey in my head. Booze makes it easier. I might regret this moment of honesty tomorrow, but fuck it. “You and I… That shit started because of the girl, yeah? To be precise, because I didn’t understand why someone would go apeshit like you did about Callie back at Deene. I mean, I had Anna Reich—that was after your time. She was smart, pretty, charming. All the checkmarks, yeah? I was content for some time, pissed when her father took her back to the mainland after the Change. But by then, I was tired of her. Shit wasn’t working out. I didn’t understand why. Sex and all, if she could deliver, I didn’t understand why it didn’t work, why I was so damn bored.”
I dig my heels in the sand and take another gulp from the bottle, hissing as whiskey burns my throat and chest, then pass the bottle to Droga.
“With Kat, though, right from the start, I was fascinated. Fas-ci-na-tion.” I chuckle through my nose. “That word faded out of my life a long time ago. She surprises me. She makes me mad. She constantly makes me feel so many different things. I don’t stopfeeling. She is different. You’re right, she fills some invisible holes in my life that I didn’t even know existed. I want to spoil her, protect her, like she’s some rarity I’ve never encountered before. Just being with her is fucking overwhelming. And… Fuck… I want her to care as much, you know? It’s… scary, really.”
“My man.” I turn to see the fucker grin. “You are falling in love. In fact, you are already there and just trying too hard to deny it.”
I shake my head, trying—yeah, fuck—to deny it, if only to save my pride. “That’s the problem, Droga. Because she said some awful things to me, so I don’t know if I was just another mountain for her to conquer. And because we both think we are tough shit. We don’t let each other have the upper hand.”
“You can’t. You kidding me?”
Droga gives me a gaping look like I have a third eye. I snatch the bottle out of his hand and take another gulp. He snatches it back, takes one more swig like it’s a duel, his eyes slightly narrowed and shiny, whiskey-buzzed—welcome back, Droga—then pokes my shoulder with his finger a little too roughly.
“If there’s one thing you can’t do with a woman, it’s have the upper hand. You can’t even make her feel like you do. You are a man, bro.”
Bro…
The word tugs at me with its unexpectedness, and I still at the fact that we are drifting to the way we used to be with each other four years ago.
“Callie and I played that game for a while,” he says. “Until I realized that if I lost her, life would be pathetic and meaningless. I might actually say thanks to you for the mud you dragged us through. Because in those few days on the Westside, she changed.Ichanged. When we thought we might not have another chance with each other, it broke down the walls between us. So fast, I was in awe. We both were. The awkwardness was gone. And it was fucking beautiful. I was a fool playing it tough. Men shouldn’t. Ever. Not with women they love.” Droga’s voice is loud and passionate—he’s drunk, but I only watch him with a smile, not interrupting. “You can’t drop your armor as easily, Crone, I know you. But trust me, there’ll be a breaking point, and you’ll have to let her know how much she means to you. You’d better not fuck it up.”
“What if she doesn’t feel the same?” I say the words too quietly, digging into the sand with my heel like I want to hide my head in it.
“Wow, Crone. You are farther along than I thought. And a coward.” He chuckles.
“Fuck off.”
“Co-ward!” Droga sings drunkenly, stabbing me with his forefinger. “You seduce with kindness, not pressure.”
I shrug. “Pressure makes diamonds.”
“Yeah, and breaks fine china.”
“Kat is the last thing from fine china.”
“Well, pressure also started a nuclear war.”
“Alright. I get it, I get it.”
“You’re always the first in everything, Crone. So make the first step. Take a break from being a dick.”
I chuckle, but Droga doesn’t smile. He’s always had that rational side to him. A fucking philosopher. A noble one. Maybe that’s what drew me to him in the first place—the awesomeness that’s opposite to my shittiness.
We stay quiet for a moment, watching the ocean and taking turns from the almost empty bottle, smoking. I fucking missed him, this, our conversations.
“You are the most brilliant man I know,” Droga says. He’s one of the few people I actually accept the compliment from with pride. “But you still have plenty of things to learn. Like women.”
“Yeah, okay.”
“Okay,” he echoes. “You know how to use them, but you never tried to understand them.”
“Alright, Droga! I get it! Drop the fucking topic.”
