Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 80102 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 401(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80102 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 401(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
“Twice now, but more warning beforehand would’ve been nice.” He pushes me back down on the stool I usually sit at. “Now, you’re going to drink this water.” He slides it over to me. “And then you’ll drink another. No hooking up tonight, and please, for the love of my job, don’t do anything stupid while you’re this intoxicated. It could get me fired.”
I glance up at his beautiful blue eyes that give away the nice guy under the grumpiness. “Aww, we can’t have that. If you get fired, I won’t have anything pretty to look at every week.”
“Buttering me up won’t change my mind. You’re too drunk to do anything tonight. You’re coming home with me as soon as I can get out of here.”
This is why it’s so hard for me to find someone—because the guy I want is too fucking nice, and instead of letting him go, I’m holding out for a miracle that he’ll wake up one day and really see me.
I honestly believe that anyone has the potential to fall for anyone. Yes, I identify as gay, but maybe I’m pan? I mean, I’ve never found women attractive, but can I truly say I never could?
Isn’t it what’s on the inside that counts?
I don’t understand how physical attributes can override everything else. I’ve met some truly ugly people with a pretty exterior. It doesn’t make them any more attractive than a swamp monster who eats babies.
Eating babies is bad.
My thoughts don’t make sense.
I want there to be a social experiment where gender isn’t a construct. I guarantee there would be same-sex connections. Because what is a connection? Really?
Common goals and common interests. Bonding moments. Rainn and I have that up the wazoo, but it just so happens that I have a dick.
I laugh out loud.
“What’s so funny?”
“Wazoo.”
Rainn looks at me weird.
“It’s a funny word. So is dick.”
“You’re so drunk, dude.”
Maybe I am.
I shift in my seat. “Hey, I have an idea for a reality show.”
Rainn humors me. “Yeah?”
“Yeah, so, like, you put a bunch of people in chat rooms and stuff, and you take gender out of it. Like, no one can say what they look like physically or what they might be packing down there. Or not packing. Genderless Love. Ooh great title, right?”
“O … kay?”
“Hear me out. Sexuality is an ever-changing thing. It’s a spectrum.”
“It … is?”
“I thought I was straight growing up because heteronormative narratives dictate modern society even though the concept is outdated and stupid, and so is the construct of gender.”
Rainn stares blankly at me. “Are you always this philosophical when you’re drunk?”
I keep going. “Physical attributes have nothing to do with gender. If you take that out of the equation, people would be able to connect on a deeper level. That’s all I’m saying. Thank you for coming to my TED talk.”
“That’s all good and well, but say you were one of the contestants, and you found yourself talking to … another hockey player for instance.”
My ears perk up.
“You talk about plays, you talk about the thrill of putting a biscuit in the basket, you bond, and then the next thing you know you’re talking about your life’s ambitions and getting to know them on that ‘deeper level.’ And then when you meet in person, she’s a gorgeous, leggy blonde woman who plays for the women’s team. Are you telling me the big boobs and the hourglass figure aren’t going to put you off?”
“Not if she’s the same person I fell for before knowing she identified as female. Though, why does she have to have big boobs? Don’t be boobist. Little boobs deserve love too.”
He has a point. To a degree. Masculine bodies are sexy as fuck, and yeah, they’re what gets me hot, but I still think if the perfect person was out there for me, I wouldn’t care how they identified.
“I just think personality negates everything else,” I say, my tone defeated.
Rainn slides another glass of water my way. “Drink up.”
11
Rainn
Whit does as he’s told for the next hour while I work. He sits there and drinks his water, but I can’t get his words out of my head.
Earlier when he’d told me Tanner was wrong and that he’s not stupid enough to have a crush on me, I was weirdly … disappointed.
Which is selfish because, what? I want him to want me, even though I know I can’t return the same feelings?
Then he was rambling on and on about how gender is an outdated construct, and I’m trying to wrap my head around that too.
I love hanging out with Whit, but everything is becoming too … I don’t want to say uncomfortable because that makes me sound like a dick, but he’s pushing me to think outside my comfort zone. That’s difficult for me.
Whit’s words make sense. Probably more than I want to admit. The protectiveness I have over him, the jealousy and hatred I have for that guy who’s been sniffing around him, the disappointment over Whit not having a thing for me—it all points to one glaringly obvious conclusion that I’m not ready to admit to myself yet.