[kaylor] strippers and unrequited love;

six

        Five days pass without a single text or call from Taylor. Karlie is sure that the singer realized that she could and should do better than her. After the third day, Karlie still feels the sting of rejection and loneliness again, but eventually melts back into her routine. She goes out after work with the rest of the girls and gets wasted off her ass, trying to erase the sliver of happiness she felt from Taylor. She takes on extra shifts at the club, something she soon comes to regret, but it keeps her out of her house and busy. Karlie is just about moved past on the fifth day, having regained her natural rhythm. She's out getting groceries when she's knocked back to square one.

        The stripper is walking up and down the aisles, a red plastic basket full of groceries for the night poised on her arm, when lights start flashing in the corner of her eye. She looks over and sees a handful of men with cameras aiming through the window at someone and her heart seizes. Karlie dismisses the sense of fear, telling herself it must be some Hollywood stud buying some cereal or something, but this doesn't last long.

        "K!" A voice whispers urgently, and Karlie recognizes it immediately. She turns slowly, her knuckles gripping her basket so tight that they're a pale white. Taylor frantically waves her hand from behind a potato chip desplay, beckoning Karlie over. The younger girl rolls her eyes and makes her way over. Karlie is about to ask what the singer wants when the older woman falls into a fit of coughing. A tissue is procured out of Taylor's jacket and she quickly sneezes into it, scrunching it into a ball to go back in her pocket. 

        "I'm so, so, so sorry I haven't talked to you. I tried to call you but some guy named Rick answered, and I was going to come back to the club but then I got some sort of super-hybrid of a cold and a flu. I'm like, ninety percent sure I'm dying." Taylor exaggerates, sniffling for dramatics. Karlie is overwhelmed with a sense of guilt; she was just about ready to pretend Taylor never existed, and even harbored some hatred towards the girl for "abandoning" her, but now she knew the real reason why. Poor Taylor, Karlie thinks, frowning at the singer. Little does Karlie know that Taylor is feeling nearly the exact same regret with how their communication fell short, especially after what Taylor learned of at the club.

        "It's fine, Taylor. It was just a misunderstanding, sometimes my two's look like five's." Karlie gives a shrug. She doesn't intend to come off as so noncommital, but now that she knows that it truly was just one giant error, Karlie doesn't mind, and it's like they left off where they were five nights ago while walking. Taylor raises a brow, surprised that the younger girl let her off the hook so easily.

        "Well, if you want, I'd like for you to come over tonight." Taylor says firmly, gauging Karlie's reaction. The younger girl seems to be contemplating the idea, and then nods shortly.

        "Sure, why not. What's your address?" Karlie asks, and Taylor pulls a pad of post-it notes from her bag. She scribbles down her address, extra sure to make her numbers and letters legible in hopes of avoiding a similar situation like the phone number.

        "Great! Come over around like, seven or eight o'clock." Taylor leaves her no time to respond and quickly darts off, avoiding the flashes of cameras as best as she could.

/ / /

        Karlie gulps as she stands a distance away from Taylor's apartment. There's a gaggle of paparazzi yet again, and Karlie can't help but feel like a dying animal surrounded by vultures. They seemed to be ever-present and she wondered how Taylor ever tolerated it. Recalling Taylor's directions from the first time they ever hung out, Karlie pulled up the hood of her jacket and kept her head low as she darted between paparazzi. They ignored her, thinking she was some other resident of the building, clearly only interested in the superstar. When Karlie is inside, she's greeted by a man with an earpiece who quietly whispers something into his tech. He looks at Karlie for a moment, looking her up and down, and Karlie almost feels grossed out until she over hears him say "Yep, she matches that description. I'll let her up."