Total pages in book: 53
Estimated words: 50681 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 253(@200wpm)___ 203(@250wpm)___ 169(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 50681 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 253(@200wpm)___ 203(@250wpm)___ 169(@300wpm)
“I don’t either. Grad school, I hope. But the future is a mystery. You have to take it one day at a time and work hard to make good things happen.”
I stared at him in awe for a moment. It was like he read my mind and was reciting my daily mantra back to me. Although some days, mine had a more desperate edge to it. You’ve got this. Don’t fuck it up.
“Positive thinking helps,” I replied lamely as I lifted my cup to my mouth. I sipped the green tea and winced. Yuck. No wonder I never drank tea.
Mitch snickered. “Do you want water or coffee instead? I have ginger kombucha too. But since it’s basically fermented tea, you won’t like that either. And that stuff is expensive. I’m not sharing if you don’t love it.”
“Keep the tea. I’ll take you up on that water, though. Please,” I added.
“You got it.” He stood gracefully and moved to the other side of the mini island. He grabbed a water bottle from an open shelf and slid it toward me. “This is actually a very helpful exercise. It ties in neatly with what I wanted to go over tonight. Likes and dislikes. I figured we could play a quick game of Either Or, take a few selfies and…I think we need a signature move.”
“Signature move? I don’t like the sound of that.”
“It’ll be fun,” he insisted.
“Keep talking.” I uncapped the water bottle and took a healthy swig.
“Okay. Here’s what I’m thinking.” Mitch tapped his fingers rhythmically, then paced the two feet to the sink and back again. “An icebreaker game is perfect for an opening episode. We get to know each other a little more, and our audience gets to know us. We’ll keep it simple. Chocolate or vanilla?”
I frowned. “That’s not even a question. Chocolate.”
“Cat or dog, Netflix and chill or party, beach or pool, tropics or mountains?”
“Dog, Netflix, beach and…hmm, both,” I replied quickly.
“Look at us! Already we’re so compatible! But I say tropics over mountains. I’m dying to go back to Hawaii. Anyway, you get the idea. I have more interesting questions, and obviously we can ad-lib too.”
“Sounds easy. And the signature move?”
Mitch put his hands over his mouth as though holding back a bubble of laughter. “Yes, a dance.”
“I don’t dance,” I deadpanned.
“Of course you do! Football players are great dancers. You’ll be awesome.”
“No, thanks. I’m awesome enough as is.”
“This move will make you triple-awesome,” Mitch assured me with a Cheshire cat grin. “Check it out.”
He stepped backward and swung his arms over his head. Then he brought them down low and shook his ass. He repeated the sequence and ended with an “air” high five.
“I’m not doin’ that.”
“Try it. Just once. Pretty please,” he singsonged.
I held his sugary stare with an unfriendly one that should have made him drop the subject instantly. When he didn’t look away, I sighed dramatically and stood. “Fine. Once. That’s it.”
Mitch whooped and hurried to join me on the other side of the island. “Super easy. Hands in the air like this. Oh, wait. We need music.”
“No, we don’t.”
Mitch ignored me. He pulled his cell from his pocket, pushed a few keys, and set it on the counter before standing in front of me. “Okay. Hands in the air, then bring ’em down, back up again, shake your booty, high five.”
I followed his instructions with a scowl firmly in place. I was about to lift my arms a second time when Miley Cyrus’s “Party in the USA” blasted through his home speaker system.
“Are you kidding me with this song?”
Mitch danced around me, bopping to the beat and humming along. “This song is perfect! It’s happy and fun, and it makes you want to dance. We can’t play it on the video for copyright reasons, but it’s a good song to have in your head when you’re shakin’ your ass. Come on, Ev. Don’t give me the monster mash version. Shake it like you mean it!”
He did his “hands up, down, shake it” dance, adding a sexy grind and snap and signaled for me to join in. I played along for the duration of the song for a couple of reasons. One, it seemed kind of dickish not to participate and two, his silly sense of fun was contagious.
When the song finally ended, I gave him a bro-style shoulder nudge and laughed. “Don’t tell me we’re doing that for three minutes.”
“God, no! We’d lose our audience within fifteen seconds. The itinerary is short and simple. Intro, content, closing song, done. The intro will go something like this…” Mitch cleared his throat and stared into the distance, then said, “Count me in.”
“Uh…one, two—”
“No, no. Always count backward in show biz and in this instance, start at five.” He waited for me to comply. When I reached “one,” his smile grew and lit his handsome face. “Hi, I’m Mitch and this is my boyfriend, Evan. Or is he? We’re starting a new game on my channel called ‘Faux or No?’ Make sure you hit the ‘subscribe’ button so you can weigh in. Over the next couple of months, we’re going to give you a teensy glimpse into our relationship. Nothing too kinky. We won’t be filming in bed…unless Evan says so.”