Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 88317 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 442(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88317 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 442(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
She laughed. “Not gonna touch that one.”
“Okay. Stay by the phone.”
I hung up and put on the first one, a black suit with a sheer strip at the top.
I propped the phone up in a way that allowed me to see my full torso in the viewfinder. I set the timer to snap a photo and sent it to Christina.
Christina: Who knew there was a swimsuit fit for a funeral?
Carly: So you don’t like it?
Christina: Maybe buy that one and stash it away until you’re 80. But I’m not letting you wear it out.
Carly: I told you I wanted a conservative look.
Christina: That one’s just depressing. At least pick a vibrant color if you’re going with an old-lady one-piece. The actual old ladies at the pool dress hotter than that.
Carly: Okay. Point taken. Stand by for the next one.
I got out of the black suit and slipped on a bright red one. While the color was more exciting, I didn’t love the way this one fit. It was comfortable, but had no padding at the chest. I wasn’t super small on top, but I always appreciated a little boost.
I set the timer to take a photo again and sent it with a message:
Carly: Does this one make me look flat?
About a minute later, my phone finally dinged.
Josh: Define flat.
My first inclination was to wonder why she didn’t understand my question, but I soon realized that was the least of my problems.
I’d freaking sent Josh the photo of me in the red swimsuit! I’d missed a text from him about picking up sour cream on the way home, so when I clicked on the most recent text to send the photo, it had been his, not Christina’s.
I couldn’t type fast enough.
Carly: OMG. That wasn’t meant for you.
Josh: Damn. Really?
Carly: Christina is advising me on bathing suits. I just clicked the wrong thread.
Josh: So you don’t want my opinion?
Carly: No. Didn’t you think it was out of character for me to send you a photo of me in a bathing suit?
Josh: I don’t know. I thought it was kind of cool…like maybe you valued my opinion on such things.
Carly: I’d rather be caught dead than send you an unflattering shot of myself in a bathing suit!
Josh: You think you look bad?
Carly: Yes.
Josh: What other options do we have?
Carly: There is no WE in this process.
Josh: That’s no fun.
I sighed and typed.
Carly: There’s a black one but Christina said it looked like a funeral bathing suit.
Josh: What happened to your bikini?
Carly: I want something more modest to wear when I take Scottie to the Y.
Josh: I used to work there in high school. If you take Scottie in the afternoon, it’s all senior citizens. But I suppose you might give them heart attacks in your bikini, so maybe you’re on the right track. Anyway, I’m here if you want my opinion.
Carly: Thanks.
Josh: And in answer to your question, that red bathing suit did make you look flat.
Is he serious? Just when I thought we were getting along, he had to go and ruin it. Why does he always do that?
Then my phone chimed again.
Josh: F.L.A.T.
Funny
Left-handed
Authentic
Tough
I smiled from ear to ear.
Carly: You’re so goofy, Josh. I didn’t realize you knew I was a lefty.
Josh: You eat with your right and write with your left. Technically, you’re ambidextrous. Damn, I should’ve used that for A.
Carly: And you’re observant.
Josh: Evil, goofy, and observant. I’m sure you can think of a few more adjectives for me. Not sure I wanna know them, though.
Carly: LOL
Josh: You were gonna come home and kick me in the balls when you thought I was calling you flat, weren’t you?
Carly: I wouldn’t have kicked you in the balls. But I might have put a little extra pepper in your pasta tonight.
Josh: Speaking of dinner, I’ve got it.
Carly: You cook, Mathers?
Josh: I realize you think I’m only good for pounding chicken, but there’s one other thing I’m an expert at making.
Carly: Well, this I gotta see.
I tried on at least ten more bathing suits before I finally picked one.
When I walked into the house that evening, I couldn’t believe my eyes. The carpet in the living room had fresh vacuuming track marks on it, and Scottie was sitting calmly on the couch with wet hair, which meant they’d already showered. The aroma of something absolutely delicious filled the air.
“Something smells good,” I said as I entered the kitchen, setting the groceries I’d picked up on the counter. “What are you making?”
Josh had a dishtowel over his shoulder as he rinsed a few things in the sink. “It’s in the oven. You’re not allowed to peek until it’s done. Scottie already ate his chicken. I gave him an early dinner so we could eat in peace.”
“I don’t know what I did to deserve all this,” I said.