Total pages in book: 160
Estimated words: 153871 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 769(@200wpm)___ 615(@250wpm)___ 513(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 153871 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 769(@200wpm)___ 615(@250wpm)___ 513(@300wpm)
“Ha! You love the Loaf. No, that’s on the first Bat Out Of Hell.”
“Damn it. Okay, commence update.”
“We got in a fight.”
“Oh my god, you got in a fight? That would require actually talking with him about something that matters to you. That is major, sweetie!”
“Jeez, you sound like the imitation you do of your mother when you told her you got your period.”
Ginger giggles. “You’ve entered the cult of womanhood! Congratulations!” she says in the weird mom-voice she always does.
“So, what happened?”
“It’s just, I had dinner with a colleague. It was nice, you know, just talking about the department, about our research. He’s from Phoenix, so Michigan’s been culture shock for him too. Anyway, he was helping me with this committee I’m on because he was on it last year, so we met for pizza. Then Rex was telling me that he could see that Jay was interested in me, which pissed me off because, you know, it was for work. And then Rex got all mad at me because I didn’t ask him to fix my table. I mean, I can fix a fucking table, you know? I don’t need him to do it for me.”
“Doesn’t he fix things as his job, though?” Ginger asks.
“Yeah, but so what? Doesn’t make me any less capable of taking care of it myself, does it? What, like I’m required to ask him just because he’d do a better job?”
“Whoa, babycakes, whoa. Slow down. Let me ask you a question. If you wanted a tattoo, who would you ask for one?”
“Is this a trick question?”
“Just hear me out, Daniel.” Ooh, she’s serious if she’s using my name. I sigh.
“You.”
“Right. Now, if I had to write some copy for the shop’s site and I wanted someone to proofread it, who would I ask?”
“Me.”
“Right. So, it’s not like I can’t proofread things. I mean, I’m not as good at it as you, but I can write a sentence. And you know ten other tattoo artists in the city. But you come to me because?”
“You’re the best, obviously.”
“And?”
“You’re my best friend, idiot.”
“Exactly. Look, sweetie, I know you’re not actually a sociopath, but I’m also not the one trying to date you, okay? Sometimes you’re totally dense about this shit. When you like someone and you respect their talent, you ask them to do things for you because you think of them first. Because the second you think of that thing, you think about them. Rex wants you to think of him first when something is broken. If he needed help writing something wouldn’t you want to be the first person he thought of?”
“I guess,” I mumble.
“And I’ve said it before, but it’s obviously time you started listening. Sometimes people do want to help you and you get closer by letting them. That’s what happened with you and me, remember?”
I smile.
“I remember.”
“Good. Now what was the deal with Rex getting all caveman over this guy you had dinner with? That’s so shitty. Though, good to know the lumberjack has at least one flaw. It was starting to disgust me, picturing him as some kind of buff Michigan Marlboro Man.”
“Weeeell,” I say.
“No!”
“Yeah. I thought it was totally professional and Rex was being crazy, but then this morning Jay asked me out. It was weird—he was so calm about it. Super suave.”
“Wait, he and Rex met last night, or you just told Rex about him?”
“No, they met. Rex came to the restaurant after dinner to meet me.”
“Did you introduce Rex as a friend or something?”
“No.” I don’t think I said he was anything, come to think of it.
“What a player!” Ginger says.
“What do you mean? Jay? He was really nice about it.”
“He could totally tell you were with Rex and he asked you out anyway!”
“Well, you don’t know that. And even if he did, it’s not like he would know if we were monogamous or not.”
“Come on, pumpkin, that is classic slimy moving-in-on-you-because-he-thought-your-boyfriend-wasn’t-good-enough behavior.”
“Don’t say the b-word!”
“Be-havior?” Ginger laughs. “God, you’re a fucking mess, kid.”
I’m on the highway now, and “Out of the Frying Pan (And into the Fire)” is playing.
“The nightmares are back,” I say softly.
“Shit. Bad?”
“Nah, not as bad as before. I had one the other night, though, and it was… weird.”
“Weird how?”
“Well, I was really… happy? Rex gave me this amazing massage and we, you know, had sex, and I fell asleep with him and it was just, like, kind of perfect. But then I woke up in the middle of the night with the nightmare. And I’ve had it every night since.”
“Did you tell Rex?”
“No. He didn’t wake up, fortunately.”
“You should tell him, Dandelion. Tell him about Richard and about the dreams.”
“Yeah, maybe.”
“Did you tell Rex about your colleague asking you out yet?”
“No, it just happened. Besides, he probably doesn’t want to talk to me. He’s mad at me.”