Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 85535 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 428(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85535 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 428(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
Everyone around the table groans, including my brother.
“I’m glad someone finally asked the important questions.” Aunt Myrtle’s sparkly eyes narrow as she sets her fork down on the edge of the plate and refolds the napkin on her lap dramatically. She’s about to start a story, and I’m certain it won’t disappoint. “Yes, I do date a lot. It’s given me…” Dramatic pause. “My youth back.”
“You don’t say,” Mom deadpans.
Auntie ignores her niece. “There isn’t a lot to do when you’re my age—no one around here will give me back my driver’s license.” More narrowed stares around the dinner table. “You get pulled over twice for driving too fast and suddenly you’re unfit to drive.”
“You can barely see over the steering wheel.”
“I’m talking about my golf cart.” She rolls her eyes. It’s then that I notice her lids are covered in a thin hue of blue shadow, lashes brushed with black mascara. “I would date men from the retirement communities, but did you know they’re riddled with…” She lowers her voice. “The clap?”
Yes, I did know that. BECAUSE SHE BRINGS IT UP EVERY OPPORTUNITY SHE CAN.
Everyone groans. Again. Something we do often with Aunt Myrtle around and her wild stories.
Lilly giggles softly. “The clap?”
“You kids call it sexually transmitted venereal disease.” Lilly laughs again when Aunt Myrtle says, “I myself narrowly escaped the herp last year.”
“The herp?”
We all know what Auntie is about to say.
“You know—the herpes.” She dabs at her mouth with the napkin. “Similar to the ’rhea, but not as contagious.”
The fact that she uses the word ‘the’ in front of everything has me cracking up.
“The rhea?” Lilly asks it slowly. “Like…diarrhea?”
“No, the gonge-arrhea.”
“That’s not how it’s pronounced,” Alex announces. “Even I know that.”
“Can we please talk about something else?” Mom begs. “Anything else. Please.”
My brother vigorously shakes his head. “Rome already asked us to change the subject once—you can’t ask to do it again. House rules.”
“Those aren’t the house rules. Like, at all.” Dad laughs, sounding a lot like one of my peers. “Besides, I kind of want to hear her explain the ’rhea.”
“Honestly, Josh, could you not?” This from my mother.
“So what you’re saying is, dating apps are much safer for you?”
“Absolutely. Do you know how hard it is to get an old geezer to wrap it up?”
Mom gasps. “Oh god.”
“I assume she’s not talking about presents?” Lilly whispers. “Is she talking about—”
“Condoms? Yup.” Unfazed but still kind of embarrassed, I busy myself by shoveling food into my gullet, swallowing, sneaking a peek at the watch on my wrist for the time.
We’ve been here thirty-five minutes.
A half hour more seems fair, yeah? Then we can safely get the hell out of here.
I think my blood pressure just shot up a billion points, and I’m a considerably healthy dude.
“So here I am, swiping on Silver Fox Singles—I swipe a few minutes every night.” Aunt Myrtle is rambling on. “Do you know how many free steak dinners I’ve had in the past two months alone? Go ahead, guess.”
“Um…five?”
“Ha!” Auntie cackles. “Twenty-six! And I don’t have to put out.” She pauses. “Well, I do put out—but I don’t have to.”
8
LILLY
“Well. That was…” My sentence trails off as I fasten the seat belt across my body, testing it to make sure it’s nice and secure.
“Horrible? Painful? Torture?”
His tone makes me want to laugh, but I have a feeling he wouldn’t appreciate my humor at a time like this. I know without glancing over at him that Roman is embarrassed about the way his family acted at dinner, even though I found it perfectly charming and delightful.
They were exactly as I pictured them, down to his great aunt’s hot pink lipstick and muumuu. His mother was sweet and welcoming, albeit a bit stuffy, his dad the funniest one of the bunch. Roman’s little brother acted exactly like a little brother.
It was a fun night and a nice change from the norm, which is me eating anything I’ve managed to scrounge up in my dim little kitchen. A home-cooked meal is always appreciated, and Mrs. Whitaker is an amazing cook.
“I was going to say a blast.”
“Okay, now I know you’re lying.”
“I’m not lying. I swear! That was so much more fun than we would’ve had with my family—my mom doesn’t cook at all, and I don’t have any brothers or sisters. It’s quiet and boring.” Not to mention during meals, my mother uses the opportunity to lecture my father and me about all the things we do wrong.
It’s quite exhausting.
“Honest to God, I swear I thought they were going to ask us if we were dating,” he jokes with his eyes on the road as we make our way through town the way we came.
I shift uncomfortably in my seat. “Um. About that…”
Roman glances over, regarding me in the dimly lit front seat of his car. “You look like you want to say something.”