Total pages in book: 152
Estimated words: 147051 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 735(@200wpm)___ 588(@250wpm)___ 490(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 147051 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 735(@200wpm)___ 588(@250wpm)___ 490(@300wpm)
“I’m living in your space, and you didn’t even want me here to begin with. And Flip’s always helping me. I can’t take advantage of that, because he worries about money like I worry about food. I don’t want to be a freeloader.” I sigh, trying to get myself together. “Anyway, that cake was a splurge for me. And last week I went out for drinks with Hemi, and that can be expensive.” I wring my hands. Even talking about it freaks me out. It’s not entirely rational, but some mindsets are hard to rewire. “I know I’m really weird about food. I know that. But even when we were getting by okay, there wasn’t a lot extra for treats. It’s hard to let go of the fear that something might happen, and I’ll suddenly have nothing. I never want to resort to brown sugar sandwiches while I’m waiting for the next paycheck to clear.”
“Did that happen a lot when you were a kid?” he asks.
“Often enough. I know I keep freaking out on you, but this is one of my hang-ups.”
Tristan tucks a stray lock of hair behind my ear. “If your name is on it, I won’t eat it. Unless it’s your pussy. I’ll eat that anytime.”
I roll my eyes but laugh. “I’m gonna jump in the shower.”
His eyes search my face. “Okay.”
I’m disappointed when he doesn’t join me, and I’m even more disappointed to find the condo empty after I come out. I have a new message from Essie asking about a video call, so I fire one back. A minute later, she calls me.
She makes a circle motion around her face. “What happened with the asshole now?”
I laugh. She knows we’ve been hate-fucking each other, but not the details. I fill her in on my freak-out, the hug, and the whole deal, including that he’s now disappeared.
“But he was good about it?”
“He listened. Or seemed to, anyway.”
“Maybe he had an emergency?”
“Maybe. But why didn’t he tell me he was leaving? I’m probably overthinking this. I’m definitely overthinking this. I know I’m weird about food.”
“You’re allowed to be. It was hard for you growing up.”
Essie knows what my situation was like. Her mom would pack extra snacks in her lunch for me. And Essie would trade me when I had sugar sandwiches. The next day, she always had an extra sandwich in her lunch. “It’s the second time I’ve cried in front of him. And both times have been about food. I feel like an idiot.”
“You’re not an idiot. It’s your childhood trauma, and you’re working through it. You’re used to struggling and working on a limited budget. It takes time and maybe a few years of making a stable income before you get comfortable and feel okay about loosening your purse strings. Look at Flip. He’s living with his best friend like he can’t afford a million-dollar house.”
She has a point. Flip still has the dresser from his childhood bedroom. It’s in terrible shape, and one drawer makes an awful screeching sound every time he opens it. “I feel like you tolerated a lot of nonsense when we lived together in university,” I tell her. “Maybe too much.”
“We all have quirks, and I love yours. It helps that we had years of friendship under our belt to work with when we moved in together. Besides, you spent four years dealing with my constant assumption that every guy I dated would be my forever.”
“You’re a hopeless romantic.”
“I’m a serial dater, and I want every guy to be the one,” she replies.
“Does that mean you’ve met someone?”
“Date number two is tomorrow night. I met him at a coffee shop, and we ordered the same thing. I’m trying not to turn him into my new husband right away. You’d be proud. I haven’t even merged our faces on that app that shows me what our children would look like.”
“You’re saving that until date six?” I ask.
“Maybe even number seven.”
I smile. “Have you kissed him yet?”
“Oh yeah. We sucked face for a good ten minutes at the end of our first date. My next goal is to hold off on sex until after date five, but my libido gets in the way.” Essie cringes. “I’m trying to stay mysterious, at least with what’s going on in my pants.”
“Seems reasonable. What are you doing on date two?”
“Having lunch and then grocery shopping.”
“A grocery-shopping date? That’s new.”
“But also smart. His food choices will tell me so much. Does he price match? Does he buy things on sale? Does he binge or impulse buy? Does he only buy brand names, or will he get the no-name kind to save a little since it’s the same product in a less flashy container?”
“That is smart. Who suggested it?”
“Me, of course. I really need groceries, and it seemed like an unconventional way to get to know him better.”