I'm sorry I thought you were a porn star but the first time we met you were wearing leather pants and a really tight tank top that said "spank me" so you can maybe understand how I assumed -
"No," Katy says. "That sounds like you're judging him."
"I do judge him," Kris replies flatly.
"No, we're not judging," Katy says, and loudly talks over Kris's next reply, "we do not judge because we are accepting, open people, Kris, and you also wear tight pants frequently, as well as t-shirts with questionable slogans, and those without sin cast the first stone, blah blah blah whatever, finish the goddamn email."
"I take it back, I don't want your help anymore," Kris says quickly.
"You need my help."
"I do not."
"Oh my God," Katy says loudly, "you do too need my help you spaz, because the first hot guy you like in LA, you basically call him a hooker and now you want to make judgments on his life choices, Kris, that is not okay."
"I called him a porn star, not a hooker," Kris clarifies. "And he called me one too, I think we're forgetting that detail."
"Shut the hell up and finish the email," Katy replies, unrepentant.
"Tell me if I should be offended by this," Adam demands, and shoves his Blackberry in Brad's face. Brad makes an offended noise and smacks it away. "Brad! Come on."
"Please do not be involving me in your issues," Brad says primly, turning back to whatever intense process he's involved in with the microwave. Adam suspects some avante garde art piece, or maybe he's just warming up some dinner, it's hard to tell with Brad.
"Remember porn guy?" Brad quirks an eyebrow. "He thought I was a porn star!"
"What? Go you!" Brad exclaims. "See? I told you you have movie calves, didn't I - "
"No, Brad, he assumed I was a porn star because apparently I look like a porn star," Adam corrects. Brad looks at him blankly. "That's offensive."
"Did he want you to do a movie or something?"
"No. No, he's - he's not actually a porn star, either," Adam admits, crossing his arms. "But he sent a really bitchy email!"
Brad blinks. "Okay," he says slowly. "And that's...bad."
Adam huffs. "God, never mind," he says, and whirls around to go call Danielle.
"But - what did he say about your calves?!" Brad calls after him.
"Look," Kris starts. He doesn't get much further than that.
Adam waits patiently, one eyebrow raised.
Kris glares. "Okay, you could help."
"I could?" Adam asks innocently.
Kris rolls his eyes. "Okay, I'm sorry I made assumptions. But you assumed things about me too, and you're being a total jerk about this. I think you should know."
"I am not a jerk," Adam replies, offended. "Besides, you basically said I look trashy. I have a right to be mad."
"And why, exactly, did you think I was a porn star?" Kris challenges. "Because I came off so wholesome and respectable?"
Adam falters. "That is beside the point."
"It actually isn't," Kris says.
"Whatever, you still haven't apologized, that's the only reason why I came here today," Adam says with a haughty sniff, as if he hadn't spent an hour in front of the mirror this morning, artfully arranging his outfit to come off as carelessly attractive, but not slutty, fuck you very much Kris Allen and your stupid hot cocksucking mouth, as he described it to Danielle.
"Okay, I'm sorry," Kris says obediently. "Now you."
"I'm not apologizing!" Adam yelps.
Kris sighs, looking unimpressed.
"Okay, fine." Adam deflates slightly. "I'm sorry, too."
They sit in silence for a very long, awkward minute.
"'Spank me,'" Kris finally says, dry and deadpan, eyes narrowed. Adam purses his mouth, looks up, connects with Kris's gaze, and bursts out laughing. Kris lasts maybe, maybe, two more seconds.
They're still laughing when the waitress comes to check on them five minutes later. She takes one look at them, swivels on her heel, and heads straight back in the opposite direction.