“So you made me clean my apartment last night for nothing?”
Kara glared daggers at me as she parked in front of the strip mall. There were only a few cars in the parking lot, but Kara insisted on taking the spot farthest from the yoga studio.
“Caleb needs a friend right now,” I said lamely as soon as we got out of the car and started walking.
She slurped an extra-large strawberry milk shake through two yellow straws. She was lactose intolerant, but that didn’t seem to deter her.
“Kar, you’re not supposed to eat or drink anything substantial before we go to yoga class. And is that made of soy milk?”
She snarled at me, defensive. “I’m allowed to drink real milk. I’m a lacto-vegetarian. Not vegan. There is a huge difference. Besides, my stomach is made of steel. Steel, baby.” She patted her belly.
“Uh-huh.”
We were on our way to a hot yoga class. Kara had insisted we go together to strengthen her decision on starting her life over without “that asshole Cameron,” as she put it. She said she needed to try new things, meet new people, and move on.
I figured it would be more beneficial if she stopped talking about him, but what are friends for if not to support each other’s idiosyncrasies? Or, in her case, addiction.
When we reached the entrance to the studio, Kara leaned against the glass wall beside the front door, busily drinking her milk shake. I stood next to her, looking around.
It was drizzling a little, and the temperature had dropped to jacket weather. Spring was stubbornly holding on to the tiara and refusing to pass it to summer. A few brave locals had moved on from sweaters and pants to shorts and spaghetti straps.
“So, how much did you actually clean?” I asked.
She looked away. “I changed the sheets on the bed.”
“That it?” I grinned.
“Uh-huh.” She pinched my cheek. “So his parents are divorcing, huh?” she asked.
My smile disappeared. “Yes, but don’t tell anyone.”
“Who am I going to tell? Oprah? Seriously.” She rolled her eyes. “Some kids take it harder than others when their parents divorce, I guess.”
I frowned but didn’t comment.
“Anyway, that’s why you make sure you date a lot before settling, because you know what? I’ve only dated and slept with that asshole.”
“Cameron?”
“No, Brad fucking Pitt, Ver.”
“Yeah? How much did he pay you after?” I deadpanned.
Her laugh was big and boisterous, and I had to join in. Then she turned serious.
“I feel dry,” she said, sighing. “Am I supposed to feel dry? Like the Bahara Desert.”
“You mean the Sahara,” I corrected.
She flicked her fingers at me. “You know I was blond in my past life, right? That’s my excuse, and I’m sticking to it. I don’t have shit for brains, but man, you’re up there with NASA.”
I laughed, shaking my head.
She slurped the last of her milk shake and did a free throw into the garbage can. The cup bounced on the rim and fell to the ground, spilling its contents like pink vomit.
“Shit!” she hissed.
“That’s littering. You’d better pick that up,” I said when she started to walk away.
But before she could respond, someone else snatched the cup off the ground.
“I don’t want anyone getting fined for littering,” a male voice said, laughing. “Hi.”
He was tall, with a military haircut that emphasized his strong facial structure. Deep-brown eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled. A shadow of beard covered his square jaw, making him look very masculine, and tattoos decorated both his muscled and toned brown arms. It was obvious he went to the gym—there was one next door to the yoga studio. He wore a black muscle shirt that showed all of the dark, intricate tats, and there were a lot of them.
“Hi,” Kara choked out.
“I’m Theo.”
“Kara.”
I spotted a tongue ring when he spoke. I glanced at Kara and almost laughed at the expression on her face. Her mouth was slightly open in awe, her big hazel eyes rounding.
Theo looked at Kara curiously as he dropped the milk shake in the garbage. I elbowed her inconspicuously. She blinked several times before she started to wake up, but it was too late. A car had stopped in front of us, and Theo was already waving goodbye and sliding into the car.
“Shit, Ver. I think I found the guy who’s gonna pop my cherry.”
I laughed. “Memo for you, Kar. Your cherry has already been popped.”
“Pop my second cherry?”
“Unless you sprouted another vagina, I don’t think you have a second cherry.” Kara didn’t respond, staring at the car as it drove away. “Let’s go. Yoga releases tension, which you really need right now.”
“Pizza can do that, too, girlfriend. Or getting laid.”
I smirked, grabbed her hand, and dragged her inside the building.
When we entered the yoga class, the heat felt like a slap in the face. The hot air encased every part of my body like a bodysuit. We were about ten minutes into the class when I threw a glance at Kara. She looked green. Uh-oh.
“Kar,” I hissed. “Are you okay?”
We weren’t allowed to talk, but she looked ready to pass out.
She shook her head, whimpering, “Can we leave?”
We weren’t allowed to leave either. The instructor wanted us to lie down and get our breath back if we felt dizzy. Screw it.
“Let’s go, Kar.”
Sympathetic eyes darted our way as I helped her up. The instructor came to check on us, but Kara told her she was fine. In the hallway, the rush of air-conditioning greeted us like a taste of ambrosia.
“Fuck, yes!” Kara said breathlessly, disentangling herself from my arms and dumping her limp, sweaty carcass on the floor, spread-eagle. “It smelled like old vagina in there. Someone farted while doing those exorcist dance moves. I swear, if you pull me back in there, I’m going to slap you to kingdom come, my friend. Right down to purgatory.”
Kara had never done yoga before, and the expression on her face cracked me up. Loud peals of laughter echoed in the hallway.
When the instructor opened the classroom door and reprimanded us with a glare, I pulled Kara up and we stumbled to the lockers.
Pictures of Buddha and Asian gardens hung on the orange walls. Three bathroom stalls were installed on the right half of the room and the lockers on the left.
“I told you not to drink that milk shake, Kar.”
She groaned and went straight to a bathroom stall. “Why do I have to be lactose intolerant? Why? Why?” she lamented, slamming the door. “Why the fuck don’t people flush the toilet? Do they think I enjoy looking at their crap? Enjoy smelling it? Fucking flush the toilet already!” she growled.
I heard a toilet flush.
“I think you’re right. You need to get laid.”
“I’m gonna find that god we saw earlier. Just watch me. He is hot enough to compete with that asshole Cameron. He even has a tongue ring. Did you know Cameron has one too? And I don’t know if you’ve figured this out or not, but our names are kinda similar—Cam/Kara/Kar, it’s like karma. Isn’t that sweet as fuck?”
Here we go again.
