Page 51 of XO Karma

Dahlia sets a menu on the table. We both order a drink, and she leaves.

“We can share,” I say, grabbing the laminated paper and waving it at him.

He chuckles. “No need.”

“Oh.” I nod. “I get it. You’re one of those people that has to eat the same exact meal every time they go to a restaurant.”

His eyes narrow. “They have a really good burger.”

“I bet they also have a good…” My gaze wanders over the menu, corner of my lip curling as it lands on the lunch section. “Tuna fish sandwich too.”

He grimaces. “I bet they do.”

“You should try it.” I cock a brow, unsure what I’m trying for, but pushing his buttons is just too much fun. And if he had tuna breath, that would likely prevent me from reminiscing on our little make-out session. I suppose I’m also delaying the inevitable conversation we need to have that’s full of murder and blood and all the things that keep you up at night. I realize how Aster and I met is unconventional, and hell, I’m not fully convinced he’s not the Kodak Killer, but I can’t deny things feel a little bit lighter when he’s around. Like I don’t have to carry all the darkness on my own. It’s been a while since I felt that way… ten months and twelve days, in fact.

“Maybe I will,” he says as Dahlia appears with our drinks, clanking them before us.

“What can I get you?” she asks, pulling out a small notepad.

“I’ll have the burger,” I reply.

“Tuna sandwich for me,” Aster requests, and Dahlia shoots him a look but says nothing. I fear he has as hard a time backing down from a challenge as I do. His gaze trails her until she disappears into the kitchen, then returns to mine. “The closest table is twenty feet away. I’d say we’re clear to speak freely.”

My fingernails clink against the glass of my strawberry milkshake as I strum against it. “I’m not even sure where to start.”

“Well, how about with who is trying to convince you I’m the Kodak Killer?” he suggests in a hushed tone. “Who put that idea in your pretty little head?”

I pull my milkshake closer, wrap my lips around the straw, and take a sip. His eyes drop to my mouth, then return to mine, and my body flushes with heat. How much should I share? He keeps asking if I trust him, and the answer is… maybe? Believing he’s the Kodak Killer would make all of this much easier. I’m so tired of searching. But when I ask myself if I truly believe it’s him, I just… don’t.

However, that still doesn’t mean I trust him with my secrets.

After swallowing the cold beverage, I lick my lips that have become impossibly dry despite the sweet, sticky liquid. “Objection, relevance.”

“Cute.” His jaw ticks. “But we have to be honest, or this conversation is pointless.”

The glass scrapes across the table as I push it to the side. Then I place my hands under my chin. “Truth for a truth?”

He leans back in the pink-and-white-striped booth, crossing his arms. “Sure. You first.”

I tsk. “Not how it works, buddy.”

“Oof.” He throws a hand against his chest. “Did you just ‘buddy’ me?”

“Are you really worried about the pet names I call you right now?”

“Pet name?” He bites his lower lip, then releases it languidly in a way that’s far too attractive. I fear the tuna fish may be less of a deterrent than I hoped. “‘Baby boo’ is a pet name. ‘Hot sexy man’ is a pet name. But ‘buddy?’ Yeah, that’s friend zone material.”

My jaw drops open. “You’re not even in the friend zone.” I grab condiments off the table and place them inches away from each other in a line all leading to my milkshake glass at the end. Pointing at the farthest away item, a lonely ketchup bottle, I say, “You’re currently in the might be a serial killer zone. Which is about”—I drag my finger past the mustard, salt, and pepper, then finally pause on a sugar packet closest to my sweet beverage—“four planets away from the friend zone.” A wide smile spreads across my face. “So how about you slow your roll… buddy.”

He reaches across the table, pressing his finger on the sugar packet, and holds my eye contact as he drags it to the base of the glass. “And how would one get from the sugar packet to the milkshake?” Clenching my jaw, I drop to his plump lips. Trying and failing to forget what they felt like on mine just an hour ago. Fuck. Concentrate, you horny bitch.

“Telling me your truth is a good place to start.”

His grin only widens as he abandons the sweetener. “I’ll play if you promise never to call me ‘buddy’ again.”

“I will no longer call you ‘buddy’ tonight.”

“Ever,” he corrects, and I roll my eyes.