Total pages in book: 139
Estimated words: 133655 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 668(@200wpm)___ 535(@250wpm)___ 446(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 133655 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 668(@200wpm)___ 535(@250wpm)___ 446(@300wpm)
And then, I take to Google, searching up, What do women love in a man?
Instantly, I’m given a lengthy list, with things like responsible, protective, trustworthy, makes her feel safe, handsome, kindness, good sense of humor, self-aware, authenticity, good hygiene and grooming, emotional intelligence, stability, supportive, good communication skills, shows vulnerability, and verbalizes his thoughts and feelings.
I pull up my notes app and start adding key things to the list that I know I need to prove to her.
Clearly, shit like good sense of humor and handsome are already done, but I can be a better communicator. I can be more responsible. I can be more protective. I can be more self-aware.
I can be a lot more things. I’m going to be a lot more things.
For Julia.
Ace’s Plan to Woo Julia is officially in session.
Julia
“What the hell happened at the Kellys’ last night?” my dad asks, pulling the newspaper down from its spot in front of his face and downing a swig of orange juice. We’re in our Manhattan flat this morning, which is much smaller than our house in New Jersey, but fun to get away to every now and then. Plus, it makes it easy when I don’t leave Ace’s parents’ place until four a.m. Not that Ace wouldn’t have let me sleep over—he would have. But with Drew there, I felt like it was less awkward to leave together.
“Cassie texted me forty times while I was asleep,” my mom chimes in. “Each one getting more and more manic about icing her vagina. I swear I don’t even know how they’ve been our best friends for this long, Kline.”
I roll my eyes and laugh as Evie repeats ice and vagina like it’s a tic. She doesn’t have one, but she’s been watching old episodes of Malcolm in the Middle lately and has a habit of assimilating her real life to go with her TV fixation.
“Gunnar came home from the Bahamas early and threw a party for like five hundred people at their house last night,” I update with the straight facts. “Ace panicked, of course, so I went over to try to help calm it down, but Thatch and Cassie ended up coming home and kind of joining in, so it was just a party.” I shrug. This isn’t that outside the realm of normal for the Kellys.
“Cassie said some guy was there with you too,” my mom remarks what she thinks is carefully. It’s hilarious how obvious it is she’s dying to know about him.
“I swear it’s like a CIA network around here. It’s no big deal yet. He’s just a guy from school.”
“Ace texted me about him too,” my dad admits. “Asked me if I own a shotgun. Something about not trusting anyone and doing my dadly diligence.”
What the hell?
I roll my eyes. “He’s being a weirdo. Drew is fine. You don’t have to bust out shotguns or be dadly, I swear. We’ve had one interrupted date and then partied with Ace’s parents. I’d hardly say you need to be knitting grandbaby clothes.”
“Julia!” my mom whispers, but my dad just laughs.
“Well, okay then. Let me know if it gets more serious, and I’ll get involved.”
I giggle. “Thanks, Daddy.”
He winks at me over the paper and goes back to reading it, and I jump up to grab an omelet from the pan and a couple of pieces of bacon. My grandfather, Dick, got up and made them earlier while he was waiting for my grandmother to come back with their travel trailer during street cleaning. He finished breakfast and then went down to save the spot for her to park in right after the sweeper went by.
It’s funny, really, but they’re a great example of real love. Of give-and-take. Of fun and acceptance. It probably doesn’t hurt that my grandmother has been a sex therapist for her entire adult life, and because my grandparents have zero filter, I have too much knowledge that their sex life reflects that.
And yes, that is very much both disturbing and endearing.
I take my plate and move over to the window seat overlooking the street.
My grandpa moves out of the spot he’s been saving and waves my grandma in with their truck and trailer, a bright-pink sign with a vagina-shaped flower on the side declaring “Heals on Wheels.”
My grandmother, Savannah Cummings, my mother’s mother, is one of the most popular sex therapists on the East Coast. Since hitting the road to see the country in their camper, Savannah has taken her therapy to the streets as well. She’s helped people in forty out of fifty states, according to her records, and I can practically hear the satisfied moans from here.
My phone buzzes from my lap, and I pick it up to look at it while I watch my grandma park their massive trailer in the middle of Manhattan. Honestly, she’s pretty much a badass the way she can handle it.