Total pages in book: 124
Estimated words: 119005 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 595(@200wpm)___ 476(@250wpm)___ 397(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 119005 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 595(@200wpm)___ 476(@250wpm)___ 397(@300wpm)
My mum met my dad when she was twenty-two. I was already two years past the age she met Dad and was no closer to finding “the one.” The podcast had also been a much-needed distraction after I began my university career as a grief-stricken, anxiety-riddled eighteen-year-old who needed something more than academia to get her out of bed.
Throughout my four years at uni, me, Cara, and Michaela had documented our dating life with the podcast. It had grown so popular, people from all over the world listened in. We even got sponsorship to run ads and became a huge hit on social media. What started off as a fun way for me and my friends to commiserate over how hard dating was became something for people from all over to do the same.
Sadly, I couldn’t keep it up. Lily Sawyer, the daughter of my parents’ friends Nate and Olivia Sawyer, joined the podcast when she started her first year, which was my final year. It shocked everyone when she decided to co-host the show. Her younger sister, January, was the loud, outgoing one. Lily was funny but quiet, more reserved. January was known for being protective of her kind, introverted sister. However, Lily became a different person on the podcast. I didn’t know if it was because it was just her voice, no one could see her, but she was a lot more like January when she was hosting the dating show. She’d been running it for three years now and it was as popular as ever.
“Welcome to Seek and You Shall Find.” My pseudo-cousin’s familiar voice filled my car as I hit the busy city center traffic. “Today on the podcast, we’re going to talk about grooming. No, not pet grooming. We’re talking about the manicuring of the female forest.”
I laughed, shaking my head at her nonsense. Despite the next university year not starting for another few weeks, Lily and her friends kept up with the podcast to stay relevant enough so people wouldn’t forget to stream it.
“Why is this today’s topic? Because my dear co-host Sierra was shamed. That’s right—shamed by her date last weekend for trimming her lady garden too thoroughly. What the heck, I say. What the actual heck? First, don’t do that. No shaming allowed when it comes to consensual sex, people. Second, how much is too much and how little is too little? I mean, I thought I knew until now. We asked you to call in with your thoughts. Who do we have first, Sierra?”
“We have Kylie,” Sierra answered in her American accent. “She’s a student here at the university. And I’m hoping Kylie is as horrified for me as everyone else has been that the asshole I took to bed last weekend had the audacity to scold me for my Hollywood. It’s my lady garden. Like I said to the guy at the time, I can pull every fucking weed out of there if I want, asshole, and your hose is no longer welcome in my front yard.”
Chuckling, I felt a wave of nostalgia hit. I tried to listen to the podcast every week, and every single time, it took me back to uni. I thought I was stressed out then, but I’d give anything to return to those days. The last three years had flown by. I felt like I’d worked every hour of my life since. And there was still no sign of Mr. Right.
“Kylie, are you there?” Lily asked.
“I’m here!” a chirpy girl with a posh English accent called down the line. “This is so cool! I’m such a fan, ladies. So, I know I’m supposed to be sharing stories about the pubic foliage management—and he’s an arsehole, Sierra, you keep doing you, babe—but I really wanted to give you a heads-up about this new podcast on campus. Have you heard of the Potterrow Blokes?”
Potterrow was the main student hub for the campus.
“Uh … vaguely.” Lily’s tone suggested annoyance. She hadn’t told me about this new podcast. “They started their podcast before summer, correct?”
“Yes. They’re students at the uni. Four anonymous guys. Anyway, theirs is basically the male version of this, and they’ve been growing in popularity. But I think you should know they’ve started to attack your show.”
Before I could hear Lily’s response, my ringtone blared through my car speakers, cutting off the podcast. A glance at the dashboard screen told me it was Mum. “Morning, Mum.”
“Good morning, baby.” Even after nearly three decades spent in Scotland, she had more than a twang of her American accent. I might have been known for mimicking (mocking) her weird Scottish-American mash-up. “Do you want to tell me why my calendar alerted me to an Instagram Live for this evening?” My mum’s husky voice was at once familiar and soothing … and bloody annoying at that very moment.