“Well, I hear a burning butthole can last for up to a week,” she said with a sly smirk.
My body relaxed. She was mocking me. That was good. Great, even. We were keeping things light.
“I am going to need some comfort dessert for me to forget about that whole night,” I said, stepping into her apartment with a tray of brownies.
“Lucky for you, I have everything set up on the rooftop.”
“Rooftop? You have a good view?”
Karla smiled before waving me over to follow her. I did as she said.
She led me up four staircases, only limping slightly. It was remarkable to see how much she’d improved with her movements over the years. I wondered if she still suffered with pain from the accident all those years ago. I prayed she didn’t.
When we reached the top steps, she opened the door with that same sweet grin plastered on her lips. The moment she stepped outside, I followed. She then flipped on a light switch, and the whole space lit up. A stunning rooftop hangout space with lounge chairs, plants, and fairy lights. Right near the edge of the roof, a picnic set up was there with the cocktails, and I’d be damned, a plate of chicken wings.
“Not spicy at all!” Karla assured me the second my eyes fell to the plate of wings. “Garlic and parmesan, to redeem myself from the last time we hung out. I swear I do make food that won’t burn your bum.”
I put my hand over my chest and sighed. “I was about to get triggered.”
She laughed, and I loved it.
“No trigger points here, I swear.” She took a seat on theblanket that was spread out, and I sat beside her. Look at li’l Miss Karla East being romantic.
Wait.
Was she being romantic? Was this a date-date? Or a friend date? Or averyfriendly date?
I tried my best to not overthink it. “So you’re still a rich girl, huh? Bookshops and rooftop apartments.”
She laughed. “My father is rich, not me.”
“You said that same thing when I saw your house all those years ago,” I joked. “I didn’t believe you then, and I definitely don’t believe you now.”
Her smile spread. “OK, OK, I’m rich. But even with all that money, I still have a sucky view.” She gestured toward the automatic billboard straight in front of her. “I can name every ad on that billboard with my eyes closed, with the exact order that they go in.”
“Bullshit.”
She arched an eyebrow. Then she turned around with her back to me. She was wearing a tube top that evening with a long, flowy, black skirt. She was showing more skin than she had before, and I couldn’t help but take a glance at every single piece of her, including the tattoo ink on her left shoulder.
“OK, tell me the first ad, and I’ll tell you the five that come after it,” Karla said, bringing me back to our conversation and away from her skin. Even though my eyes wanted to stay locked on her a little longer.
I glanced at the ad. “Larry’s Law Firm.”
“Followed by ChickNDip—buy five strips, get two free. Then it’s ChickzNDics, the gentlemen’s club, which is to not be confused with ChickNDip, though at ChickzNDics, you can buy five lap dances and get two free,” Karla explained. I smirked as she continued. “Then there’s Honda’s summer salead, followed by Nissan’s summer sale ad, ending with a Bible verse asking if you’ve talked to Jesus lately, then we are right back to Larry’s Law Firm.” She swung around on her butt to face me again. “How did I do?”
I snickered and did a slow clap as I stared in complete amazement. “Damn, that’s impressive. You got them all right.”
She made a dramatic bow. “Thank you, thank you, I’m remarkable.”
She was.
“I noticed ink on your back.” I arched an eyebrow. “You have a tattoo?”
Karla glanced over her left shoulder. “Oh, you can see it? Yeah. I got it when I turned eighteen. I tried to convince my dad to let me get it when I was fifteen, but he said he would never sign off on it. So for my eighteenth birthday, I signed off on it myself.”
“What is it?”
She turned to face me more, her cheeks blushing. “It’s a little silly.”
