“You’re not serious,” Karl says, aghast.
I laugh. “We did. We always said we’d watchDjango,Inglorious Basterds, and finish up withPulp Fiction, but Dad always fell asleep halfway throughBasterds.”
“And your mom was cool with that?”
“She said she wasn’t and always complained how sacrilegious it was, but she liked the movies too, especially Django, so she’d sit and watch with us.” I pause for a moment to think. “I haven’t seen any Tarantino movies since they died.”
“We don’t have to. We can start our own traditions,” Karl says.
I smile sadly. “No, it’s fine. That’s actually a happy memory. Maybe it’s time I remember them with a little more kindness in my heart.” I start to feel the anger toward my parents crumble just a little.
“SoDjango, then?” Karl asks.
“If you don’t mind.”
* * *
When I feelmyself being moved, I wake, cradled in Karl’s arms. I must have fallen asleep. “I can walk,” I moan.
“Shhh,” he whispers.
When he lays me down on my bed, I grab onto his hand tightly. “I don’t want to be alone tonight. Stay?”
He blinks down at me, his hand at his hip now. “I don’t think that’s such a good idea.”
“No funny business. Just . . . company.”
He sighs but then nods. “Okay. Let me just go grab some pajama bottoms.”
After a few minutes, Karl walks into my room in sweats, shirtless. I feel the bed dip as he gets under the covers next to me.
I turn to face him, and Karl is staring at the ceiling, one arm behind his head, the heavily tattooed arm in perfect view. I hadn’t paid close attention to its underside, but right there, on his inner-bicep, is a completely blank space. I tentatively bring a finger to the spot and trace circles on it.
“What’s this space for?” I ask.
His head tilts to look at where I’m touching. “I’m leaving that space open for someone special,” he says.
Accepting his short answer, I flip on my side to face away from him. My heart summersaults when his large fingers curl over my hipbone, adjusting me on my side, and his hand wraps over my waist, not unlike how he found me with Adrian this morning.
I was so mortified! I can’t believe I slept with Adrian before I slept with Karl.
I cradle my hand over his, and I fall asleep with the biggest smile on my face.
In the morning, when I wake up, there’s a light snore coming from behind me. Karl is spooning me, and at some point during the night, his chest has come to be pressed flush to my back.
The room is bright with the curtains open, revealing snow still coming down hard. And there’s something extremely hard nestled between my butt cheeks through my leggings. A long, thick, and hard-as-steel pipe nudging my rear in the most tantalizing way.
I smile and scoot back, increasing pressure on his penis, then close my eyes again. “Karl,” I whisper. “It’s Christmas morning.”
He moans and stirs, his arm tightening around me, his hips thrusting forward, poking me harder with his shaft.
I ignore the slickness collecting in my underwear. “Karl,” I say and giggle. “It’s Christmas morning!”
With every ounce of self-control I can muster, I peel his arm off me and get out of bed. Then I head the two floors down to Adrian’s apartment.
I bang on the door much longer than I thought I’d need to. A groggy and grumpy Adrian opens the door, rubbing sleep from his eyes.
“Lola? What the hell? What time is it?”