He lets me do my thing. I set up the table in front of the TV, place the stack of pancakes, the syrup and bacon and cold beers, and he sinks down beside me on the couch.
We stuff ourselves with the food, and I put on the first Matrix movie, because it’s something light. We pull some Neo combat moves at each other, snickering like mad, and Jet offers me a piece of bacon and asks me if I want the truth or if I want to keep living in an illusion.
It should be funny, but for some reason it’s not.
We finish the movie in silence, and I pick up the dishes to carry them to the kitchen.
“Hey, J.”
I turn around, balancing the dishes and beer bottles. “What?”
“Thanks. For this.” He waves a hand at what I’m carrying. “I know I’m a pain in the ass and I own it, but—”
“Shut up,” I say gruffly. “You’re not. I was dicking around.”
He gives me a half-smile and shrugs. “I’ll do the dishes.”
“Now I’m worried. Maybe you hit your head too hard.”
“Haha. Dick.”
“Jackass.”
He follows me into the kitchen, leans against the counter. His hair is wild, sticking up in every direction, and I reach out and ruffle it without thinking.
Jet’s mouth opens, closes.
I snatch back my hand.
Uh. “So you need help with something?”
I’m sure I’ve ruffled his hair before. I must have. Once or twice. We’re friends. Friends touch, even when they’re guys. So why does it feel different all of a sudden?
“Yeah.” He rakes one hand through his hair, and I watch his fingers disappear in the wild, black tangle, my mouth suddenly dry. “I need to write a resume. If I’m gonna be looking for a different kind of job.”
I lick my lips. “No prob. I can help you with that. Any specific kind of job in mind?”
“A store. I guess?”
A shop sounds good. Safer than a bar. Better hours. “Awesome, dude. Let me finish up here and you can show me what you got?”
“Sure you can handle it?” He arches a brow, and again I’m staring at him, this time having a what-the-fuck moment.
He saunters out of the kitchen, a
nd I’m still staring after him, unsure as to what just happened.
***
“You sure you wanna put that bit in?” I ask him after three hours of tweaking his resume. Guy has lots of work experience, only it’s scattered all over the place, and most places probably won’t even care enough to answer if he asks for a reference.
“Yep.”
“Fine.” I click save on the document and frown at it. “Hey, you didn’t put any education. You didn’t go to college, but you could mention our high school.”
“Dude…” Jet pushes his chair back and wanders toward the window, shoving both hands in his hair. He’s a dark silhouette against the fading light.
“What?”