Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 82472 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 412(@200wpm)___ 330(@250wpm)___ 275(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82472 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 412(@200wpm)___ 330(@250wpm)___ 275(@300wpm)
“Fit,” she answers, thinking, then taking another gulp till it’s half drained. “Very fit.” She looks around before leaning into me and whispering, “I think he has a six pack.” I try to not laugh out loud while she drains the rest of her glass.
“Hair color? Eye color?” I fill up her glass again. To most people it’s just wine, to my sister it’s like a truth serum.
“Brown and hazel-green with gold specks.” She drinks a little more.
“Facial hair? Would you get a burn from his beard or not?”
She looks up and blushes a bit. I don’t say anything. Instead, I hide my smile with my wine glass. “Depends on the time of the day. He was clean-shaven this morning, but he had a good five o’clock shadow going by three o’clock.” Her head falls back on the couch, while she closes her eyes like she is thinking of him.
Sitting up straight, I look at her and finally see something I haven’t seen since pencil dick fucked her over. “You like him?”
Her eyes snap open as she turns to me, denying it, but I know that look. “No! No, I don’t. Absolutely not. I don’t like him at all.”
She giggles as she takes another sip. “He hit my freaking car, Kay, and then the asshat asked me if I was drunk.” She tries to plead her case. “Drunk at fucking eight a.m.”
It’s that final sentence that I know she thinks of him more than she cares to admit, even to herself. “He’s gotten under your skin! There hasn’t been anyone who’s pushed you this far. Well, there was Pacey from Dawson’s Creek…” We all know how that turned out. She called the television station and tried to have the show cancelled and banned. We won’t even mention the petition she tried to start on Facebook.
“Hey!” She points at me. “Joey went sailing with him all summer! Just because Dawson is there and crying, she thinks she should be with Pacey. He was always her choice.” She now pours herself another glass, spilling it.
“Do you think he manscapes?” I ask while I put my glass down on the table.
“I have no idea, but I would guess it’s probably manscaped. I mean, who doesn’t manscape these days?” She looks over and wonders.
I am not here nor there. It’s a choice really. Just because I like to be well groomed doesn’t mean everyone feels the same. “Some like to be free and let things be natural; there is nothing wrong with that. Don’t judge. Well, unless you have to suck his dick, then by all means, you put your foot down. You don’t need to be choking on long pubic hair. In fact, if you think it isn’t, then just run. Run fast, like he’s waving a bomb in front of you.” I use my hands to mimic an explosion.
“Shoes?”
“Nice. Black ones.” She looks at me, my eyes opening wide. “And clean. Very nice.” Her pet peeve when your shoes are scuffed. She won’t even mow the fucking lawn in scuffed shoes.
“Teeth? Straight? Crooked? White? Stained? Stinky breath?”
“I don’t know.” She looks confused.
“Big hands?”
“Oh yeah, so big.” She opens her hands wide to make me see how big, but she shakes them a bit. “This big.” She motions with her hands, making big circles. So from what I got he has hands just like the toy green hulk hands that Gabe has.
“You think he has a big dick?”
She stops moving. “He would have to. You can’t be that good-looking and have a small penis. Actually, maybe that’s why he’s such an asshole! His penis is small. He has small penis syndrome.” She looks at me, waiting for my input. “I mean, why else would he be smoking hot and an asshole, unless”—she giggles—“unless it’s so big it hurts when he walks.” She puts her hand over her mouth and laughs out loud, as if she is keeping the biggest secret ever. “I can’t sleep with him. He’s my boss and besides, he doesn’t even like me.”
She rises from the couch, picking up her glass of wine and spilling whatever was left in it on the floor. “I need a dog, so if I spill something, he can lick it up.”
I watch her and silently laugh at her. Having a dog that drools and pees all over the floor would send her into the mental ward.
“You think we can get a dog and train him to bite my boss?”
“Yes, I think you just need to bring a picture and a sweater with you to training school so they can use his scent. They’ll train the dog to attack your boss as soon as he gets close.” I nod my head, agreeing with her.
Her mouth forms an O. “Oooh, we need to look into that.” The next thing I know she is walking toward the stairs, going upstairs, while I follow her. She stumbles over the last step and falls on the bed face first.