Total pages in book: 62
Estimated words: 59396 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 297(@200wpm)___ 238(@250wpm)___ 198(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 59396 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 297(@200wpm)___ 238(@250wpm)___ 198(@300wpm)
It’s a bit overwhelming, his submissiveness to my every apparent need. “Um … sure. I’ll take a handful while it’s still hot.” I start to reach.
“Would you like me to feed it to you?”
I stop.
Feed it to me …?
“I don’t mean in a weird way,” he goes on. “I just … I want to keep your hands from getting buttery. You know how it is. My hands are super clean. I washed them in the bathroom just before meeting you, because I … I had to check myself in the mirror. I get … really nervous before a date. You never know what you’re getting yourself into, know what I mean?”
He can say that twice and a half. “Y-Yeah.”
“So can I feed some to you? A handful while it’s hot?” he asks, a slightly playful lilt in his voice.
I can’t say this is the weirdest thing that’s ever happened on a date, but at least it beats being treated badly. Why not have a guy at my every whim? When Rome’s in Rome … “Sure.”
Benjamin-Benny-Bradley-Brian smiles, happy, then brings a handful of popcorn to my mouth. After only a split second of awkward misgiving, I let him feed me. Popcorny goodness explodes on my tongue. Perfectly crunchy yet soft. Nutty. Sweet. Salty. Buttery. Before I’m finished with the first mouthful, he’s already got another, which I go ahead and accept as well.
Again, not the weirdest thing I’ve done. I’m open-minded.
But I definitely have a few question marks floating over my head. Other than his name, I mean. “So have you ever fed a guy popcorn before?” I tease, trying to make light of this.
He seems to take it very seriously. “No.”
It suddenly occurs to me that my date may be “into” this whole subservient thing a little more than he’s letting on. He feeds me another handful. I chew away like this is totally our usual routine. Is it more awkward to find what we’re doing weird, or to play it off like I do this all the time? How am I supposed to act right now?
Is he even paying attention to the movie?
Am I?
I decide to go for a casual chat—as if I can make this scene between two total strangers seem totally normal. “So tell me what you’re looking for in a guy.”
“Hmm.” He hesitates with my next handful of popcorn, thinking it over. “I guess I’m looking for someone like you, Rome. We both swiped right. We like similar things. And your pic had a real sense of strength about it, like you can be really mean if you want to, so I’d better treat you right. I only mean that in a good way. You go to the gym often?”
I knew it was all about that pic. “Every day after work. I remember you said you like reading fantasy novels?”
“Oh, I love fantasy in all its capacities. And roleplaying games, like Dungeons & Dragons. Something amazing happens when you become someone else. You’re free to do things you don’t normally give yourself permission to do, know what I mean?”
Like feed your date popcorn? “I get it. When I play the occasional Dungeons & Dragons game with my best friend, I can be whoever I want.” He feeds me another handful. I might be growing too comfortable with this. “Like a warrior with a big sword, for example.”
“Yeah?” He stops feeding me, then lowers his voice and brings his lips close. “Do you … have a big sword, Rome?”
I look at him, my chewing stopped. “Big …?”
“It’s okay if you’re sporting more of a … short sword,” he says softly. “Or a dagger, even. I’m not picky. It’s what’s on the inside that counts.” He smiles with wistful eyes, as if that’s the most romantic thing he has ever uttered in his life. “Am I wearing glasses in my profile pic? Do you remember? I hope these big things didn’t throw you off—the glasses. I lost my contacts getting ready this morning.”
I’m still debating what “weapon” I’m wielding in my pants, assuming that’s what he was suggesting. Is it weird that I don’t know? “No, they didn’t throw me off at all. They look nice. Studious. They fit you.”
“Do they? Thanks.” He blushes, then lifts his eyebrows. “Are you ready for a sip of Coke?”
Is he going to feed me the straw like an airplane? “Sure thing.” He lifts the cup, already wet with condensation, to my lips. I suck from the straw, the fizzy goodness exploding in my mouth. Our eyes are connected the whole time. This totally isn’t weird. “Thanks,” I say after swallowing. “Tasty.”
“Is there anything else you want to know about me?”
Neither of us are paying attention to the muscled man on the big screen being devoured by a trio of hungry zombies right now, his blood-curdling screams filling our ears as heavy metal music plays. There is something about my date that makes me err on the side of honesty. “I gotta confess something.”