My cell buzzes in my jeans.

My head fills with thoughts of Iris.

Lying on my couch.

Pulling her dress to her waist.

Flipping over, arching her back, and begging me to take her.

But she isn't the one calling me.

Incoming Call from Sabrina Williams.

No fucking way.

I stare at my cell until the call goes to voicemail.

A moment later, a new message notification pops up on my cell.

Then a fucking text.

Sabrina: Can we talk? Mom and Dad are driving me crazy. I miss my baby brother.

Walker: I have plans today. I'll call next weekend.

Or never.

Never is good.

I run my hand through my hair. I need to talk to my parents. No, that isn't enough.

I need to convince them to actually make due on their threats. The gentle approach isn't doing shit to get my sister clean, but they never manage to muster up the balls for tough love.

I slide my cell into my jeans.

Iris is going to be here soon. We're going to drive up to Malibu and take in a beautiful, blue day. And then I'm going to drive her home and fuck her senseless.

Today is a good day.

Bree isn't ruining that.

I grab a stool and take a seat at the counter next to Kaylee. She's writing something on her laptop. Every few minutes, she looks up to ogle Brendon. She gets off on watching him work. And on his dark eyes, dark hair, dark tattoos—she gets off on pretty much every single thing about him.

She's like a cartoon character with hearts in her eyes.

He is too.

It's sickening. Even if I'm happy for them.

"Hey." She looks up from her laptop. Offers me a smile. Then her green eyes are on her boyfriend.

"Dreamy, isn't he?"

She laughs. "I know you're making fun of me, but I'm going to agree anyway." She sighs with pleasure. "He's just so… focused. And tall. And beautiful."

"He is tall."

"He's everything." She sets her elbow on the counter, tilts her head, rests her hand on her palm.

It's cute how gaga she is. I'm pretty sure Kaylee has been in love with Brendon for eight or nine years now. She's been his little sister's Emma's best friend forever and she's pretty much always had a crush on him.

At some point last year, he started wanting her too.

It was fucked-up shit, because she wasn't eighteen yet.

She's only barely eighteen now.

But I do get it. Not for me, but for him. The two of them giggle like crazy around each other, share a million inside jokes, have complimentary tastes in fuck.

Back then, she was innocent the way he likes. Now… not as much.

He finishes a line, wipes his brow, turns back to her. Shoots her fuck me eyes.

She lets out a wistful sigh.

I laugh. "You've got it bad."

"I'm madly in love with my boyfriend, yes. You should try it."

"No thanks."

"Have you ever been in love?"

"No." But I've loved someone and that was plenty to teach me not to do it again.

"Then how can you know you're not interested?"

"Have you ever tied your boyfriend up?"

"No." Her nose screws with distaste. "Of course not."

"Then how do you know you don't like it?"

"That's a stupid question."

"It's the same question."

She shakes her head your loss.

I flip through my sketchbook, find my next mockup, bring it to the scanner, and get to work on making a temporary tattoo.

The printer hums.

I grab the paper and scissors. Bring them back to the counter.

Dean is on the opposite side of the counter. He plants his hands on the plastic and leans closer. "Kinky Kay. You working on something good?"

"Maybe." She presses her lips together.

"You are." He laughs. "You ever gonna show off this dirty book of yours?"

"When's the last time you read a book?" I ask.

He turns to me. "It happened once."

Kaylee laughs. "Back in high school?"

"Were they out of SparkNotes?" I tease.

"And CliffsNotes. That was bullshit." He shakes his head with mock offense. Turns to Kay. "I'll make an exception for your masterpiece."

"Uh-huh." She presses her laptop shut.

He mimes being stabbed in the gut. Stumbles backward. Falls onto the floor and stretches out like a star fish.

"He's demo-ing his favorite sex position," I say.

"Huh?" Kaylee raises a brow.

"You've never heard of starfish?" I ask.

She folds her arms. "Really?"

"Yeah. It's when the person on the bottom just lays there. No moaning, no panting, no thrusting, no touching. The pinnacle of a bad lay," I say.

"Yeah. There's a reason why Walker is so familiar." Dean jumps—actually jumps—to his feet. "It's his signature. Only he does it on top. Why do you think he never does repeats?"

"I've never seen you with the same woman twice," she says.

"Have you ever seen me with a woman?" he asks.

"Well, no… but I haven't seen Walker with one either. You never invite me out," she says.

"You're not twenty-one," I say.

"Uh-huh." She shakes her head, not buying it.

"Tell me, Kay." Dean leans in close enough to stage whisper. "Brendon ever starfish?"

Her cheeks flush. But she doesn't look embarrassed. More turned on. "No."

"He into you doing it?" Dean asks.

She shakes her head.

He looks to me. "She's barely fazed by this now."

"You have to up your game," I say.

"Seriously. How could Brendon do this to me? How could he corrupt you like that? Doesn't he know it's easier to torture you if you're a blushing virgin?" Dean asks.

"That must be painful for you," I say.

"Thank you for appreciating that." He's teasing, yeah, but there's sincerity in his voice. "You have all your shit for this afternoon or you need to stop at your place?"

"I have it." My eyes go to the clock. Ten minutes to go. "I invited Iris."

"Oh." Dean blinks twice. He runs a hand though his shaggy hair. "You're still hanging out with her?"

"We have an arrangement," I say.

"Like a girlfriend?" Concern fills his blue eyes.

It's weird. Unlike him.

"No. More like fuck buddies." And why the fuck does that bother him?

"I thought that was code for someone you only call when you want some." Brendon moves forward. He motions for us to clear the desk. "I have to check out. If you're done being idiots."

"You know we'll never be done with that." Dean's voice lifts back to bouncy.

Kaylee shoots him a look. He shoots it back. I have no idea what it means, but they seem to understand each other.

I move out from behind the desk. "You two want to join?"

"No, I have work in two hours." Kaylee runs her fingers along the edge of her laptop. "You're really seeing someone, Walker?"

"I see her naked in my bed, yeah." What the hell could bother her about me dating someone? She's the poster child for love being great. "Is that a problem with anyone else?"

"No. It's great. Fucking fantastic." Dean steps backward. "I'm gonna change."

"Into a tolerable human being?" I ask.

Kaylee laughs. "That's cheesy." She looks to me. "How does that work?"

"Fuck buddies? Really, K.K.?" It stands for Kinky Kaylee. That started as a joke with Dean a million years ago. "You're not that naïve. Not after six months fucking Brendon."

He shoots me a grow up look.

I can't argue with that. Brendon has his shit together as much as anyone could. When his parents died, he stepped up to take care of his little sister. He's basically her dad. Which makes it even more fucked that he's sleeping with her best friend.

But, hey, who am I to judge?

It's not like I always make good life choices.

"Like Brendon said, it means something different to everyone." Kaylee slides off her stool. "What does it mean to you?"

"I don't define things like that." I run a hand through my hair. Since when does anyone care about my sex?

The bell rings as the door swings open. Ryan steps inside the shop. He's wearing all black—his jeans, his t-shirt, his expression. It's the same as always, the world is a piece of shit, and you're a piece of shit, and I'm not interested in your shit.

He looks to the three of us. "You ever get tired of gossip?"

"No," I say. "You want to go on a hike?"

"You think I'm here for my health?" He drops his backpack in his suite. Shakes his head kids today.

Brendon nods yeah, he's right.

They're only a few years older than Dean and I are—we're all in our twenties—but they act like they're old sages.

I look to him. "You coming or not?"

"You should," Kaylee jumps in. "I'll be fine."

He arches a brow. "You sure?"

"Yeah." She smooths her pink dress. Adjusts her blue glasses. "I have to change for work soon. Just lock this for me?" She taps her laptop.

He nods.

Dean shakes his head as he returns to the main room—now clad in basketball shorts and a muscle tank. "Mr. Brooding is joining us?"

"Yeah." What the fuck is Dean's problem? Brendon joins us on hikes all the time. Ryan too. Hell, Leighton, Emma, and Kaylee join last minute all the time. He's never had a problem before.

"Leave for your shit or get to work," Ryan calls.

He has a point. I pack up my shit.

Dean does the same.

Brendon finishes with his customer then whispers something to his girlfriend.

The bell rings.

Iris steps through the door, tight black shorts clinging to her hips, loose blue tank hanging off her shoulders.

All the bullshit at the shop fades away.

I want her against the wall.

My hands under that tank top.

Those shorts at her knees.

The rest of the world gone.

No worrying about my best friend's attitude. Or my sister destroying herself. Or how the fuck I'll get my parents to help when they're textbook enablers.

Dean steps out of his suite. "Iris, right?"

"Yeah." She offers her hand.

He shakes. "I guess you're coming with us."

"Walker invited me. Is that okay?" She bites her lip. "He promised I wasn't imposing. If I am—"

"Nah. The more the merrier. Brendon's coming too." Dean smiles wide. He sells it. To her.

I know better.

I know his bullshit too well.

I grab my backpack and move to the door. "You ready to go?" I look to Dean. "You and Brendon can meet us there."

"I didn't drive." He fights the irritation seeping into his voice.

"It's only five blocks to my place." Brendon steps forward. "We'll grab my car there."

"Awesome." Dean folds his arms.

Worry spreads over Iris's expression.

I don't know what the hell Dean doesn't like about her, but I don't care.

I like her.

I want her in my life.

That's how it's going to be.