Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 103661 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 518(@200wpm)___ 415(@250wpm)___ 346(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103661 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 518(@200wpm)___ 415(@250wpm)___ 346(@300wpm)
He's athletic—a broad chest, a tapered torso. I'm all hips and ass.
I move to the couch. Find the remote next to the flat-screen TV. Scan the available DVDs.
Quiet dramas with all sorts of subtext and pent-up suffering.
And thoughtful thrillers. The kind with twists that make viewers go of course.
A shelf filled with books. All classics, loved and modern, arranged by theme. Marriage, war, dystopia.
An entire shelf of Margaret Atwood.
For me? Or the reason why he likes me?
Maybe that's his kink. Maybe he goes crazy for girls with tattoos from The Handmaid's Tale.
I grab the book reflexively. Run my fingers over the worn pages. Let the book fall open to the place where the spine is creased.
A highlighted passage. Notes in the margin.
His handwriting. Not something left by a former lover. Something he adorned.
It means something.
Maybe that he has an open mind—a lot of men dismiss female authors—and good taste in literature.
Maybe that the book is incredibly well-known and incredibly popular—how many Emmy's has the TV show won?
Maybe more.
Instead of contemplating more, I settle into the couch with the paperback. Flip to a chapter and read it carefully.
Yes, I trace his highlights. Check his notes. Try to figure out what the fuck he's thinking.
But that's just—
Ahem.
Then the next chapter. Another.
Until the buzz of my cell interrupts me.
Fuck, it's almost noon and I haven't checked in with Addie. Today is a workday for her. She's at her internship. But still…
I text my sister before I read the new message from Ian.
Eve: Hey! Spent the night at Ian's place. Hanging out there now. Enjoying the air-conditioning. It's very strong. Work okay? Still on for dinner? It's too hot to cook. Let's order Indian.
She texts back right away.
Addie: How was it?
Eve: No comment.
Addie: That bad?
Eve: I am not telling you about my sex life.
Addie: Better than the bassist?
Eve: Much.
Addie: What do straight girls talk about in this situation? Are you all obsessed with dick size or is that just a thing in the movies?
Eve: You did not just say dick size?
Addie: I did.
Eve: It's men who are obsessed. I've never really cared.
Addie: You can do a lot with a mouth and two hands.
Eve: OMG TOO MUCH INFORMATION.
Addie: Did you not realize that, already? That's too bad. Ian seems generous.
Eve: What about him? No. Don't answer that. I don't need to hear your take on his sexual aura.
Addie: Who's the Long Island grandma now?
She has me there.
Eve: Okay. You can comment. Just be more quiet next time you have sex upstairs. I am never getting those details out of my head.
Addie: If you'll be quiet this weekend.
Eve: Ahem.
Addie: Long Island grandma.
Eve: Pot. Kettle.
Addie: He bought you a new wardrobe just because. Well, probably because he wants to picture you naked in the dressing room. But it's kind of sexy, in a weirdly controlling way.
Eve: It is.
Addie: Is he controlling?
Eve: Are you asking if he's bossy in bed or if he's an unsafe partner?
Addie: More the latter. But the former… might be too much information.
Eve: It's weird, isn't it?
Addie: Yeah. I really don't want to know what gets your rocks off. No offense.
Eve: Me either. No offense.
Addie: Okay, Grandma. Is he treating you well?
Eve: Yeah.
Addie: And this whole thing started…
Eve: He's my new job. We met at work. It happened kind of fast. I wanted to tell you the entire truth, but I didn't think you'd approve.
Addie: That's the entire truth?
Enough of it. All I can tell her.
She isn't going to understand what I'm doing or why. I barely understand it. And I don't want her to feel responsible. After last year…
I'm not doing this for her. It's for me. Because I want her to be okay. Because I want us to be okay.
Eve: He's helping out. Financially.
Addie: So he's like a sugar daddy or something?
Eve: I guess you could say that.
Addie: Don't tell me if you call him daddy.
Eve: Please stop with the TMI.
Addie: Ew. You do! Gross! Straight people are so weird.
Eve: I do not.
Addie: Are you staying safe?
Eve: Yeah.
Addie: And you trust him?
Eve: Enough.
Addie: Do you like him? Or is it more what he can offer you?
Eve: I like him. I like him a lot. He's funny, smart, thoughtful. But take-charge too. It's not that he makes decisions for me, exactly. But he sets them up in a way that I barely have to think about it. He knows what I want before I do.
Addie: This is about sex again.
Eve: Maybe.
Addie: He is funny. And thoughtful. Did you know Lock insisted on driving me home and picking up lunch on the way?
Eve: Sounds right.
Addie: Lock is a riot too. It's kind of weird he has an assistant, but I guess that's rich people.
Eve: They are weird.
Addie: How's his apartment?
Eve: Gorgeous. Perfect view. Elegant and sparse.
Addie: Let me guess. Black sheets.
Eve: White actually.
Addie: The comforter?