r really cooked or had pancakes. It was our code word for Let’s get away from here and do something else together.
He laced his fingers with mine. “Pancakes it is.”
Chapter Fourteen
Veronica
“Shut the fuck up, birds!”
I stood on the sidewalk outside Kara’s apartment, gawking at her as she yelled and glared at the birds perched on a tree and happily singing.
After Caleb’s practice, he and I had skipped the drive-in theater and had just arrived at his apartment when his phone rang. It was Cameron asking if he could come over. I had a feeling something bad had happened between him and Kara so I hurried out, declining Caleb’s insistent offer that he’d drive me, and took the bus to check on Kara.
She sat on a white bench, half hidden by one of the two columns lining her porch and the big pots of blue and hot-pink flowers hanging from the ceiling. Suddenly, she jumped up and went inside her apartment, and just as suddenly came out with a spade in her hand and started stabbing the left column like a madwoman.
“I hate you! I hate you. I hate you.”
“Uh, Kar?”
She turned at the sound of my voice, her hands going limp at her sides. She lowered her head, and I was afraid she was crying.
“Are you okay?” I asked, walking to her cautiously.
I glanced at the column, wondering what had upset her about it. There was writing on it, but it was unrecognizable now.
She let out a heavy sigh. When she looked up, her eyes were bright but dry. “I’m really glad you came,” she mumbled. She walked the few steps to me and squished me in a hug.
When I felt wetness on my shoulder, I wrapped my arms around her awkwardly.
My heart felt heavy. This was a familiar scene to me. Most of my life, I’d seen my mom crying and locking herself in her bedroom for days after my dad left. Unlike my mom, who rejected any kind of touch, Kara clung to me.
“You’re such a pathetic hugger.” She sniffed again. “Hug me like you mean it, jerkface.”
I choked on a laugh, hugging her tighter. “Wanna talk about it? I brought ice cream.”
“Cookies and cream?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“Come on in,” she said.
I followed her inside. Her apartment was as interesting as her personality. Wide windows were covered with pale-blue lace curtains. The walls, painted a creamy white, boasted postcards from different countries. One wall was solely dedicated to photographs of her family and friends. Kara was a family-oriented person, whether she liked to admit it or not.
Jeweled lamps stood on white high tables with curved legs. There was a couch the shape of a woman’s lips in the living room, flanked by two high-back French chairs that surprisingly looked great with the couch. Elegant throw pillows in royal blue sat on them. In the middle was a round coffee table with a messy collection of empty beer cans, an open jar of Nutella with a spoon in it, and crumpled tissues scattered everywhere. Her TV was on, and Gone with the Wind was playing on the screen.
“I see you’ve been busy,” I commented, dropping onto one of the chairs.
Kara sprawled on the couch and stared at the ceiling.
“What happened, Kar?”
“He drove me back to his place,” she answered after a moment. I could hear the pain in her voice. “Nothing happened. Nothing at all. So why does that hurt more?”
“Kar…”
She covered her eyes with her arm. “Could you grab us some beers from the fridge, Ver?”
“Sure.”