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Yes, K invited me. I like what you’ve done with the decor.
This is a joke, of course. It’s obvious what happened here: Krishna bought all the stuff he thought was important—the couch, the TV, the alcohol, a king-size bed I can see through the open door to his bedroom—and then he and West purchased everything else in the place for two bucks at a rummage sale. Probably they got their dishes in big paper bags marked 25 cents, because I’m drinking butterscotch schnapps out of a Flintstones jelly glass. I’ve propped up my sock-clad feet on a coffee table made of plywood and cinder blocks.
I put a lot of creative effort into it, West says.
I can see that.
If you find my collection of Pound Puppies, DON’T MOVE ANY.
Are they in the bedroom?
You could go in & find out. Look up.
Why?
I keep my stuffies in a hammock.
Smiling, I glance at the closed door to his room.
I could go in. I could sit on West’s bed. Touch the bedspread, whatever color it is. See what he’s put on his walls, what books are on his shelves, how much laundry there is in the basket.
I want to.
Are you in my room, Caro?
The question makes my throat hot—as hot as if he’d asked me what I’m wearing. As hot as if we’re cybering, which we’re not. Not even close. So why is it that when I take a sip from my jelly glass, the schnapps goes down wrong and I start to cough uncontrollably?
“What are you doing over there?” Quinn asks.
“Texting West,” Bridget says. “You can tell because she’s biting her lip and kind of hunching over the phone, like possibly Skittles are going to come out of it, or a rainbow, and—”
“I know that,” Quinn interrupts. “I just want to know what he said to make her choke. ”
“Nothing,” I croak.
“Ooh, what?” Bridget asks.
“You two need to fuck and get it over with,” Krishna says.
“Shut up. ” I am a genius with the witty retorts.
The door opens, and West walks in. Seeing me on the couch, he smiles. “Thought I was going to find you in my bed. ”
I burst into flame.
Not really, but I might as well. It would be a better way to dispel heat than sitting here, flaming red.
“Not with those ears,” I say.
West snorts and drops his bag by the door. “Hey, Quinnie. Bridget. What’s Krish got you drinking?”
“Butterscotch schnapps,” Quinn says.
“Gross. ”
“It is some broke-ass shit,” she agrees.
“I was just saying to Caroline about how the two of you need to fuck,” Krishna says.
