OUT OF THE RED ↝ dave grohl

twenty-two.

          "SO WHAT'S IT like? Being in love?"

"If you ever say that again, I'm going to locate the nearest trash compactor and stick your bass right in it."

Reagan balled up a loose-leaf piece of paper, pegging it into Chris's face as she leaned over the Wilson's counter with her hands tucked beneath her chin.

"Hey!" Chris cried as the paper ball hit her squarely in the nose.

"You deserved it. You used the L word," Reagan said, looking back down at the doodle she'd been sketching on her paper calendar with pen.

"I'm only calling it out how I see it," Chris said. She threw up her hands, as if her innocence was plainly obvious.

"It's not like that. We literally keep each other around for the sole basis of sex," Reagan explained. Even to her, it sounded like a lie.

"So you're telling me that this past week, all you've spent your time doing together is the Devil's dance?"

Reagan bursted out laughing, leading Chris to laugh too as they both howled in unison. Reagan tried to mute her giggles, clapping her hand over her eyes and shaking her head so she wouldn't have to look into her friend's skeptical face.

"No. That's not all we've been doing."

"What have you done then?"

What a loaded question, Reagan thought uncomfortably as she leaned her hip against the counter and crossed her arms.

In all truthfulness, she and Dave had prioritized much of the time they'd spent together around other things besides sex. After Reagan finished work every day, she tended to go to Kurt and Dave's apartment, where she and Dave would buy takeout food and hole up in his room.

Reagan knew that to Chris and Kate, she made it sound like her first priority with Dave was hopping on top of him. But that wasn't the whole truth.

Usually, the sex didn't happen until after they'd spent hours talking, discussing everything from music to their greatest aspirations. Dave had even been trying to teach Reagan how to properly play guitar, proving to be a patient instructor. He always spoke softly to her, his corrections always followed by meaningful compliments.

She had yet to come to terms that she'd been lying to herself. Reagan was wrong. Dave was not in her life for sex. He was more than that, even when she so desperately tried to force a title of friendship on him that was not entirely accurate.

"We talk a lot," Reagan admitted. "It's nice. He's a good listener. And he makes me laugh."

"How sweet of him. Wow, Reags. I hate to break it to you — I mean, don't piss your pants or anything — but I think you might have actually found a decent guy!" Chris said, her voice full of mock surprise.

"Just because he's decent doesn't mean I have to be in a relationship with him," Reagan fought back.

"No it doesn't. But it might just be exactly what you need."

"I don't like that word either," Reagan muttered. "'Need.' Ugh. Don't say it again."

"So what if you do need him, Reagan? It's not in the way you think. He might be healthy for you. A nice break from the long haul, if you get what I mean."

Reagan bowed her head, picking up her pen and scribbling out the picture of her tiny drawing. She pressed the tip of the pen firmly against the calendar paper, watching an indention appear.

"He's leaving, you know," she said bitterly. "In a day. They're going to England for a tour."

Chris's face softened. She considered what she would say next with this new information in mind, knowing the difficult spot it had put Reagan into.