Chapter 6

After finding that stuff, I put everything back and snapped out of it: it was super wrong to snoop into other people’s privacy. I wanted to be mad at myself for it, but honestly, something else was pounding away at my brain.

“Damn, I’m falling for this girl! Oh, no!”

That was new for me. I’d only ever gotten this worked up over a boyfriend who turned out to be a total asshole. And there I was, sitting on the bed, antsy for her to show up.

“Will she get here hungry?”

I thought about whipping up something for her to eat. I wanted to kill time, but it was dragging its ass, messing with me.

“Violeta, quit being stupid. You can’t fall for a woman, you idiot!” I said, staring across the room like I was talking to some imaginary person. “You gonna play house now? What then? Adopt a cat?”

I tried to calm myself by thinking it was just the novelty. I was meeting new people, outside my usual circle, and soon I’d meet others, new guys, and this would all fade. A confident smile crept onto my face, and I hunted for more ways to convince myself.

“She doesn’t have a dick, and you love dick. That veiny one, pink, big head…” Right then, an image of a very specific dick popped into my head, the one that lived in my fantasies. “See? And that sweaty guy smell… you love it, you slut!”

I was laughing to myself, sounding crazy, when the phone rang.

“Shit, things went south here with Nana.” That line made me grin instantly. “I’m not even heading over there anymore. You home?”

“Yeah, I am. You hungry?” I realized right then that I was too.

“Girl, you read my mind. I’m just gonna drop my stuff off there and we can grab some garlic bread?”

“Garlic bread?”

“Yeah, come on. This guy’s selling garlic bread with sausage. It’s killer.”

She hung up and I bolted to the bathroom to check my face. I fixed my hair, swiped on some lipstick, straightened my bra that was all crooked, made sure my panties weren’t peeking over my jeans, and headed to the living room. She was already turning the doorknob.

I rushed to unlock the deadbolt and she came in.

I froze for a second, trying to hide the joy and surprise, when I noticed a detail: she had a whole arm tattooed. But last time I saw her, there was nothing there.

She stumbled through the door, weighed down by three huge bags. Tiny thing, trying to balance the weight of the world on her shoulders. With every step, a bag would slip, and she’d laugh out of breath, her face red from the effort.

“Damn, I’m such a klutz,” she huffed, stopping in the middle of the living room. “I got it in my head to bring everything at once and forgot I had to go up and down with all this crap.”

I helped clear the backpacks out of the way. When I turned around, she came straight in for a hug. A weird hug, tight, almost kid-like. Her head rested against my chest, no funny business, but it stayed there for seconds, like she wanted to hear my heartbeat.

Her scent hit me. It wasn’t sweet perfume or flowery. It was a warm smell, almost boyish, a mix of damp fabric and road dust. She had on a short turquoise blue dress, little boots, and a crocheted cardigan. The city was chilly, the bus even more so, and that mix of light clothes with wool made me want to laugh.

Her hair, as always, a mess: tied up any which way, greasy, with stained ends. I looked at it and blurted out without thinking:

“Lelly, first thing we’re doing tomorrow is fixing that hair, okay?”

She laughed.

“My hair’s a wreck. I put all kinds of crap in it on vacation. I’m even scared to wash it, it’s falling out from the chemicals.”

As she talked, fiddling with the ends, I noticed the marks on her arm. They weren’t tattoos — they were drawings. Marker, ink, or something. Flowers, curvy lines, all weaving into a pattern that seemed to breathe.

“Wow, that’s gorgeous! Who did it?”

“Me.”

“You should get it tattooed, it’d look amazing.”

“I don’t like the idea. I get bored quick. This way I can change it whenever,” she said, looking at her elbow where the drawing had smudged. “Can you believe I’ve been doing this since high school? Even now, people hit me up to draw on them.”

“For real?” I laughed, shaking my head. “If college doesn’t work out, you’ve got your art gig locked in.”

She smiled. And I realized that up close, her smile was even prettier than the one that had stuck in my head all week.

“Let’s eat already, I’m starving,” she said.

We headed out and took a five-minute Uber to a little spot. I wrinkled my nose, bracing for the worst. It was a long hallway, nothing fancy, some pictures on the walls and that’s it. Then it opened into a big room. Modest, but nice.

With the university closed for the early-year break, the city felt empty. The restaurant showed it: just one couple at a table in the back and a small group of friends glued to their phones at another table, eating without talking.

We sat down and ordered the famous garlic bread with sausage. It never caught my eye before, but it surprised me. Everything was homemade, the waiter said: they baked the bread, made the sauce and the sausage themselves. With the ice-cold beer, I was on my second piece when the talk went from casual to personal.

“But, Violeta, you said you’ve kissed a woman, right?” She paused, testing the waters. “But did you ever date one?”

“No. Never felt enough attraction to date a woman,” I answered on autopilot, distracted by the sauce dripping from my sandwich.

“And…?” She held my gaze and flicked her tongue in the air, subtle, which made me laugh. “What about a little lick?”

“Didn’t even get close to that. Only with guys.”

“Weird…” I got this intense analytical look from her.

“Weird why?” I shot back, a bit defensive.

“It’s just that I figured you were bi. At least.”

I stared at her, not knowing what to say. Truth was, I didn’t even know. Feeling attraction and having desire were different things for me, and that difference confused the hell out of me. I’d never know what to do with a pair of tits.

“I’m curious,” I admitted, leaving the door cracked open.

“Oh, curious straight girl is a recipe for trouble.”

“Actually, Lelly, it’s a bit more than curiosity. It’s just that I’ve never had a real chance to hook up with a woman, you know?”

She stopped chewing. Set the rest of her sandwich down. I was already on my second, and she was still working on her first — and the thing wasn’t even big. She leaned back in her chair, wiped her mouth slow, and gave me this look like she was up to no good.

“I’m gonna ask you something, and you answer fast, no thinking.”

I laughed before she even asked. I knew a bomb was coming.

“The waiter shows up, brings a pretty big pussy and puts it on your plate. You eat it or send it back to the kitchen?”

I choked. Red-faced, coughing and laughing at the same time. The image was ridiculous. Anyone looking at her — tiny, with that innocent vibe and doll-like blue dress — would never guess a line like that coming out of her mouth.

I tried to pull myself together, still laughing.

“If it’s a pretty big pussy…” I said, imagining it, unsure if I’d really like it.

“You’d eat it?” she pressed, dead serious.

“I think so…”

“Think nothing, come on. Yes or no.”

“Okay, yes. Yes.” I answered, and she flashed that naughty smile that undid me completely.

Lelly raised her arm, snapped her fingers in the air, and whistled at the waiter.

“Champs! Bring us two big pussies!” she yelled, full of confidence.

My eyes nearly popped out. The whole room turned to stare. The waiter gave a crooked smile and vanished into the kitchen. I wanted to vanish with him.

“What the hell, Lelly?!” I whispered, burying my face in my hands.

“Relax, you’ll see… I wanna see if you’ll really dive in,” she said, mimicking with her hand, the indecent gesture finishing the scene.

“Oh my God…” I said between laughs and embarrassment. “You’re talking about dessert, right?”

“Of course! What’d you think I meant?” she replied, laughing so hard she almost knocked over her glass.

I made a face, but she was laughing with such mischief that it was impossible not to join in.

“You’re hilarious. I’m being serious about my life and you’re cracking jokes.”

She winked.

“Yeah, right, Violeta.”

When the waiter came back, one look and I got it.

The dessert was an accidental disaster: shaped so… anatomical, it bordered on obscene. A caramel base, sour-sweet cream, topped with too-hard chocolate, and a scoop of ice cream on the side. The contrast made the “big pussy” seem even more literal.

“I’m gonna make the Alley Sausage Big Pussy famous worldwide, you’ll see,” she said, cracking the chocolate shell with her spoon and scooping up a big bite.

I was laughing so hard I couldn’t even respond.