Total pages in book: 68
Estimated words: 64887 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 324(@200wpm)___ 260(@250wpm)___ 216(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 64887 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 324(@200wpm)___ 260(@250wpm)___ 216(@300wpm)
“I can pick you up at the curb and not come in, if Drew is there,” Grayson adds.
“Honey, my house is twenty minutes from the restaurant, in the opposite direction. It wouldn’t make any sense for you to double-back and come here.”
“And how would I know that?” he asks playfully. “After six months, shouldn’t I at least know my girlfriend’s home address, so I can send her flowers every week?”
“You don’t need to send me flowers, sweetheart. I love seeing your gorgeous smile as you personally hand a bouquet of flowers to me.”
“But wouldn’t it be extra romantic for a delivery guy to show up at your doorstep with a huge bouquet and say, ‘Selena Diaz? These beauties are for you from your not-so-secret admirer!’?”
I giggle and lean into the bathroom mirror to apply some eyeshadow. “I can’t imagine anything more romantic than seeing the look on your face when you personally hand me a bouquet. But thank you for the sweet thought.”
Grayson flaps his lips together but says nothing. By now, my sweet boyfriend is used to losing this playful game of tug of war with me. True to his word, he’s been patient and respectful about my slow pace from day one. But that doesn’t mean he’s kept silent, especially lately, about his mounting desire to take our relationship to the next level.
“Why do you want to see my house so badly?” I ask coyly, even though I know why.
“Because you’re the crayons to my coloring book,” he declares without hesitation.
I’m smiling so big, I have to stop applying my eyeshadow, or I’ll screw it up. Grayson’s been saying cute stuff like that for months—telling me he loves me, without saying the magic words. I’m assuming he doesn’t want to scare me off or risk rejection by saying those three little words first, before he’s absolutely positive I’ll say them back. Or maybe he’s hoping to coax me into saying them first.
Without a doubt, I’ve been feeling deep love for this sweetheart of a man for months now. I thank my lucky stars every day he sent me that wrong number text. But, still, I think saying the actual words to him, this soon, would feel like I’m making a commitment to Grayson I’m not yet ready to make. After only six months, how could anyone know if their relationship is truly built to last? Especially when I’ve got Drew to consider, not to mention Grayson’s age.
I rarely think about our age gap these days. But when I do think about it, I remember the pivotal and transformative nature of a person’s twenties. It’s a decade, by design, of deep personal growth and self-discovery. Surely, over the coming years, as Grayson gets closer and closer to his thirties, he’ll get to know himself in ways he can’t fathom now. He’ll realize what he wants most out of life. And I can’t help worrying he’ll decide he wants things I’m simply not able to give him.
“It’s fantastic to hear you think we’re such a perfect match,” I reply, leaning back into the mirror. “Because, darling, I’ve thought for some time now you’re the golf ball to my hole-in-one.”
Grayson reacts most enthusiastically when I throw out “I love you” replacements that involve balls and/or holes. Bonus points if a ball or object is being inserted into a hole or opening. And this time is no exception: he’s laughing like a hyena at my silly quip.
“That’s fantastic news,” he says, still chuckling. “Since you’re the spaghetti to my meatballs.”
“Well, isn’t that lovely,” I reply. “Since you’re the teabag to my mug of hot water.” It’s not one of my best efforts, since there’s no explicit reference to a ball or hole. But at least, I’ve come up with an object being inserted into an opening, so it’s still a respectable offering in our game. Either way, it’s the best I could come up with this time, after hitting a grand slam with that golf-ball/hole-in-one analogy a moment ago.
Much to my surprise, Grayson laughs even more enthusiastically about the teabag comment, than he did about the hole-in-one.
“What are you trying to do to me, you little vixen?” he says through his guffawing. “You can’t talk that dirty to me when I’m driving, babe, or I’m liable to crash my car as all the blood rushes from my brain to my dick.”
I furrow my brow. “The teabag one was especially dirty? You mean the hole-in-one, right?”
Grayson laughs even harder. “You don’t even know what you said, do you?”
I bristle. “Of course, I do. The teabag goes into the mug. It’s self-explanatory.”
“Oh my God.”
“I’m just surprised you’re laughing harder at the teabag thing than the hole-in-one. I think the hole-in-one was my funniest offering yet.”
Grayson is absolutely howling with laughter now. “Stop, babe. Or I’m not going to be able to drive.” He catches his breath and chokes out, “Google ‘tea-bagging’ and ‘sex’ right now. I’ll wait.”