Page 19 of Best Friend Burden

Kiefer shook his head. “You know, I didn't get much sleep last night. Maybe we could celebrate this weekend.”

He was making excuses, and I would not allow it. That inner grump I couldn’t recognize was coming out and keeping us from spending time with Kiefer.

“What happened to the Kiefer I used to know?” I asked.

“Right?” Jackson asked.

Kiefer was not happy about that. “Give me a break,” he said, then turned towards Jackson with a sneer.

Jackson put his arms up in the air in defeat. “Sorry, sorry.”

I wasn't going to be defeated so easily. “Come on,” I said to Kiefer, grabbing his arm and pulling him back. “Live a little. We'll go for a little bit and if you don't like it, you can head back.”

Kiefer looked towards the kitchen and I stopped him, putting my body between him and the mess, hiding it behind me.

“I promise to clean the kitchen before I go to bed, okay?”

Kiefer looked to me and his brother and Natasha, then sighed. “Fine,” he said. “Let me just change shirts.”

* * *

It was less than two minutes after we arrived, and I already regretted encouraging Kiefer to join us. Well, that’s not exactly right. I regretted inviting this soul-sucking party pooper who was living inside Kiefer’s skin. Lit underneath the blacklight and strobes, he stood up straight with his hands folded in front of him, so as to take up as little space as possible, and had the sourest look on his face I'd ever seen.

“You know,” I said to him, “you can at least try to have fun.”

The glare he gave me shut me up real quick.

And, confession time, it also gave me kind of a naughty thrill.

Yeah, he was being grumpy and kind of an asshole, making it harder for us to enjoy ourselves, but there was a sexiness to it that was almost frustrating. In an emo teenage angst kind of way. The problem with hot people is that they can’t not be hot, no matter what they do. Even when Kiefer was a giant dick-sour apple, I found him powerfully attractive.

I didn't know if I wanted to yell at him or make out with him.

“I'm going to run to the bathroom,” I told him.

“I'll join you,” Natasha said, picking up on my cue, and the two of us raced towards the ladies room.

The second the door closed, I asked “Do you know what his deal is?”

She shook her head. “I was going to ask you the same,” she said. “I'm worried it's about me.”

“Oh, I'm sure it's not.”

“No, seriously,” she said. “Like you should have seen the look on his face in the studio when everyone else was congratulating him. He was really upset.”

“No,” I told her. “He's been in a mood since I've been here.” But it did seem like it was worse today.

“So what's your deal,” Natasha asked. “Are you two like...?”

“We're old friends.”

“Benefits?”

I shook my head. “No, just friends.” I laughed. “I don't mean to toot my own horn, but no man I'm blowing would ever look that miserable.”

Natasha laughed at that.

A young, 20-something girl was adjusting her make-up in the mirror and chimed in. “That insanely sexy tattooed ‘you-look- like -you're -such -bad -news you- must- be- good- for- me’ guy, he’s not with you?” She said with a big smile.

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