Bright doesn't even say a word, just walks away from the door. He leaves it open, though, which Ephram assumes is an invitation inside.
Bright doesn't look so good. Ephram considers asking what's wrong, but really, they'll talk about that later, because he *knows* what-- who-- is wrong. And maybe he can cheer Bright up a little first before they both start worrying again.
"So guess who got laid tonight?" Ephram says, right after glancing in the kitchen to make sure Bright's parents aren't around.
Bright freezes, a can of coke in his outstretched hand. Another is halfway to his mouth, but apparently Ephram's proclamation made him forget to actually drink it. "Kobe Bryant," Bright says, but his face is halfway between confused and shocked.
"There's one thing you gotta tell me." Ephram takes the offered coke, and sits down at the Abbott kitchen table. "How can you tell if she's digging it, man?"
Bright follows, still looking like a deer caught in the headlights, and sits across from him. "You're *not* serious."
"The babysitter, dude?"
Ephram stares at him, eyes wide and trying to convey urgency and a bit of embarrassment. "Tell the world, why don't you."
Bright snorts. "Not leaving this table, man. If I tell anyone, then Amy might find out." Ephram fiddles with the soda can lid, and immediately feels even worse than when he stepped through the door. "I didn't mean--" Bright starts. "And, usually if she's, like, moving. or making noise."
"What if she's." Ephram drinks a bit of flat coke. "Moving, but quiet?"
"real quiet, or biting her tongue quiet?"
Madison's face, tossed on the sheets and clenching her fists. "I think, tense-quiet."
"She breathing hard?" Bright seems not at all uncomfortable to be having this conversation. Apparently he's had it before. Of course he's had it before - Bright is the class slut, if ever there was one. "Cause it's breathing that'll give it away. she's into it if she's breathing funny."
"Oh." Ephram thinks about it. "I guess she was."
"Good for you, dude," Bright says. It even comes out a little cheery, and he leans across the table to clout Ephram on the shoulder. Not really, though, and Bright goes back to quietly examining his pop can.
After a moment, Ephram says quietly, "I didn't do it for, like. I don't want Amy to--"
and bright cuts him off with, "She. No, dude. She isn't ready. You shouldn't feel like you have to wait. or whatever."
"Yeah, well." Ephram shrugs. "Don't tell her anyway."
Ephram thinks about it for a minute, sliding the can between his two fingers. Condensation's starting to form on the cool aluminum, and his fingers are sticky. "You think she'd be, y'know. hurt?"
Bright shrugs. "Maybe."
"Oh," Ephram says quietly.
Bright shrugs again. "You gonna keep dating her? The babysitter."
Ephram doesn't really need to consider very long. "No."