Chapter 12
I pulled up in front of the bar, Katrina's headlights washing over the sidewalk. Raman was leaning against the wall, hoodie unzipped and his cap turned backwards like he'd just stepped out of a streetwear ad.
As soon as he spotted me, he straightened. "What took you so long?"
"Sorry," I said, rolling the window down. "Had things to do."
He didn't answer—just walked to the front of the car, squinting at the hood like he was appraising a priceless sculpture. "Hope she didn't get any scratches."
"Come on, Raman, get in the car. I'm too tired for this," I said, drumming my fingers on the steering wheel.
Instead of listening, he started circling the car like an airport security dog, inspecting every inch. I let out a sigh. "You know, people with expensive cars aren't as dramatic as you."
"Hey—Katrina is a piece of art," he said, leaning down to look at me through the open window. "She took a lot of energy and time."
"Yeah, yeah, we get it—Katrina's a gem. Now can you get in? I'm tired."
He gave the car one last approving nod, then finally slid into the passenger seat.
---
We'd been driving for a few minutes when Raman leaned back in his seat.
"Let's stop at the pizza place," he said.
I glanced over at him, and we both broke into the same grin. The pizza place was our spot. The owners' daughter had a thing for Raman, which meant that nine times out of ten, we didn't actually pay for our anything we got. Sometimes we'd walk in with zero money and just… pretend like we were going to pay—right up until she told us not to.
I used to feel guilty about it, but Raman swears he told her he's not into her. She just keeps bringing free things, sometimes she brings pizza, pies, and other food to our apartment. Who were we to refuse free food? The pies were technically for him, but we always split them.
We pulled into the lot and walked inside. Carol came out as soon as she spotted us. Blonde hair, bright smile. Not bad-looking at all. Raman insists she's "not his type" because she's blonde, which is ridiculous since he dated a blonde back in college. I'm pretty sure it's something else .
"Hi, boys," she said, her eyes lingering on him.
"Hey, Carol," I replied.
"Hi, Raman," she said, all soft and shy.
Raman gave her a nod. "One pepperoni with cheese."
She smiled like he'd just paid her a compliment. He didn't even flinch. Sometimes I think they'd make a great couple, but the guy's immune.
A few minutes later, she brought out the pizza, making sure her fingers brushed his when she handed it over. I caught it immediately, but, as usual, Raman didn't even blink. He reached for his wallet, but she waved him off.
"You sure?" he asked, in that fake modest tone he uses when he's already putting the wallet back in his pocket.
I nearly rolled my eyes.
"Bye, Carol," I said as we left.
She didn't even look at me. "Bye, Raman," she said, smiling at him.
Once we were back at the car, I shook my head. "You and her would make a perfect couple."
"Oh, please. She's not—"
"—not your type," I cut in. "Yeah, I know. But you did date a blonde in college."
"Yes, and it didn't work out," he shot back. Then his tone shifted, almost dreamy. "Speaking of types… I saw the woman of my dreams today. She was everything I want in a woman."
I snorted. "Wow, a woman who fits your type? That's incredible. Raman Frazier finally found her."
"That's because I'm special," he said, opening the pizza box like it was treasure.
"So what happened? Did you ask her out?"
"You know me. I went up to her…" He grabbed a slice, took a bite. "But she's got a man."
"Does she now?"
"Yeah. And he's not as handsome as your boy," he said with a smug grin.
"Oh really?"
"Really. All he's got is money. Take the money away, and I'm ten times better than him."
A piece of cheese dropped onto his hoodie, and he licked it off like it was nothing.
I shook my head. "I'm sure you are."