Total pages in book: 43
Estimated words: 46231 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 231(@200wpm)___ 185(@250wpm)___ 154(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 46231 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 231(@200wpm)___ 185(@250wpm)___ 154(@300wpm)
Which is highly suspicious. This is probably a new game, to trick me. "You know Izzie."
"Wanted to stay in and watch Riverdale?"
"She's got a crush on Jughead."
His nose scrunches with distaste. "The kid with the dyed black hair?"
"He's cute."
"Because he's a bad boy?"
"Yes, Simon, that's how we teenage girls think. All men fall into three types: nerd, jock, and bad boy."
"Which type am I?" he asks.
"Suit."
"That isn't included?"
"It's a nerd subtype."
"Liam is a nerd subtype?"
"Liam is obviously a jock."
"Adam?"
"Adam could not be more of a nerd. Are you kidding?" No signs of Vanessa in the room. No coat on the rack or shoes by the door. She's not here. But, judging from the music and the satisfied look on Simon's face (gross), she was. Maybe that's why he's calm and trusting. Cause he got laid (also gross).
"Who's the suit in Riverdale?"
"The hot dad."
"And is this your type too?" he asks.
"No, I like all types."
He makes that same ick look.
"Would you prefer if I liked girls?"
"I worry about you."
"In a very sexist way," I say.
"Probably. But I'm trying."
Damn, he's not giving any push-back today. Is he setting up a trap or just… happy?
"Did you eat?" he asks.
"Not yet."
"Coffee?"
"You can make the coffee, but, Simon, please don't try to cook."
He smiles and falls into our usual banter. "I can toast bread."
"Can you?"
"Usually."
"The toaster caught on fire last time."
"And look at our replacement toaster." He motions toward the kitchen.
I follow him around the corner. Take in the hot pink toaster with a smile. Over the last three years, I've added a lot of pink to the place, but this is one of my favorites.
Simon and I fall into our usual routine.
He fixes dark roast with the French press, warms coconut milk, toasts bread, brings jam, utensils, and plates to the kitchen island.
I fry eggs in olive oil and pick a hot sauce.
Simon chuckles as I set the sambak olek next to my plate.
"Yes?" I open the yuzu marmalade and spread it over the slightly under-toasted bread.
"You always stare at the hot sauce for minutes then pick that one."
"It's always a rooster sauce day."
"And always this one over sriracha."
"Please, Simon, sriracha is for babies."
He smiles at the familiar comment. "What did you and Izzie do last night?"
I check the button on my coat. "We went dancing at an all-ages club. Then we watched Riverdale."
"That's a busy night."
"Only for someone your age."
He doesn't take the bait. "You don't have to make up a story."
I reach for my coffee. Will the sweet, creamy dark roast to kick my brain into read Simon properly gear. "Thanks for the coffee. It's perfect."
He looks to the dress again. My fingers. My neck. "I'm sure you wouldn't lie to me unless you felt it was necessary."
Do I have a hickey? I don't bruise that easily, but Max was… aggressive.
"If you do have a relationship with someone, a man or a woman, and you spend the night… You can tell me that. As long as you're being safe, I'll respect your decision."
Now, I'm suspicious. "Really? If I want to have a threesome with the guys in my art class, you'll respect that?"
"You've used that one before."
"The question stands." I take another sip.
"Yes, Opal, as long as you're using protection and you trust your partner. Or partners."
"Really? No matter what?"
"I trust your judgment," he says.
"No matter what?"
"Should I not?"
No. I just… expect more resistance.
"If you're ever in over your head, you can ask for help."
"With sex?"
"Anything. Including sex." He pauses. Studies me again. "The world isn't a fair place. Women often pay the consequences for men's indiscretions."
"What do you mean?"
"Do you really not know?"
Sort of. Mostly. But not exactly the way he means. Simon is in his thirties. He's surrounded by older people, with older ideas. His concept of the "the world" is different than mine. More… dated.
But I did spend the first fifteen years of my life not knowing I had four brothers.
Not knowing I had a rich, famous (late) father.
My mother and I paid those consequences, but Mr. Pierce suffered his own. He didn't get to know me. He didn't get more time with my mother. He paid in his own way.
"You're an adult now. You'll pay for your decisions like an adult. The consequences won't always be fair. Look at Briar and Liam. She was his assistant. They started dating. Both adults, who made a choice. He was the one who took advantage of his position. But people don't whisper about him getting his job on his back."
It sounds so nice, in theory, my brother, the insightful feminist, well-educated by his activist girlfriend (and his own I have a teenage half-sister reading), but it's actually terrible.
It gives him all these extra insights into how fucked up the world is for women and how much more he needs to protect slash lecture me.