Total pages in book: 36
Estimated words: 34927 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 175(@200wpm)___ 140(@250wpm)___ 116(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 34927 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 175(@200wpm)___ 140(@250wpm)___ 116(@300wpm)
Cody grinned like a madman. “Not for me.”
“Good. Let’s go now.”
“Now?”
“Yeah, why wait? We’ll keep it casual. You can answer some of the questions I’ve been storing up for you.”
His face fell. “Oh, I see. Like friends. I get it. That’s good. Very good.”
“Huh?”
Cody swiped his palms on his khakis. “I don’t know if I can eat now, but go ahead and ask me whatever you want.”
I felt the invisible wall go up like a drawbridge over choppy waters. I was doing something wrong, but I wasn’t sure what it might be.
“Wait. You just said you wanted real food. Aren’t you hungry?”
“Is that your first question?”
“No.” I frowned when he opened the potato chips and shifted on his chair. “First question...I’m curious—and maybe a little worried about this list of yours. What have you accomplished so far?”
“I’ve tried online dating, spent the day at the beach, baked an upside-down pineapple cake, went jogging, and watched a sports game on television.”
I bit back a smile. “I see. I know about the beach and the date…how’d the rest go?”
“Awful. The pineapple stuck to the bottom of the pan, and the cake was dry. Jogging is terrible. It was hot and sweaty and gross. And I don’t get baseball. It’s boring, isn’t it?”
“Fuck, no.” I glowered. “Baseball is the best. Maybe you don’t understand the rules.”
“It’s rather simple. Hit the ball, run to the bases, one at a time, ending up on home plate. Theoretically, the process should take minutes, but none of the players actually hit the ball. I thought they were supposed to be good at it.”
I smacked my palm against my forehead. “Oh, boy. That’s only the general idea. Baseball is a little more involved.”
“If you say so,” Cody singsonged, studying a potato chip before nibbling it like a mouse.
“Yeah, I do. Also…jogging sucks, and no one likes pineapple. I’m thinking your list needs some revision. Try pumping weights and making a chocolate cake instead,” I advised.
“But those are things I’ve done. The idea of the list was to try new things that felt like an experience. You have a better shot at having an adventure when you go for a jog than going to a gym. And pineapple is delicious.”
“No, it’s not. It’s right up there with prunes. And if you tell me you like prunes, we may have a problem here.” I smiled when Cody giggled, then put my foot on his chair and cocked my head. “There’s got to be more to your list than that.”
“Of course there is, but it’s personal and most of it is…”
“X-rated?” I suggested.
“Maybe.”
I snagged the half-nibbled chip from his fingers and popped it into my mouth. “Now we’re talking.”
“Oh no, we’re not. I’m not sharing anything else.”
“But how can I help you ace this list if I don’t know what you’re looking for?”
Cody did that openmouthed fish thing again. “Help me?”
“Yes. Tell me the three things that rank highest on your list.” When he didn’t speak or move a muscle, I tried a different tactic. “I’ll start. Things I want to do—”
“In the short-term,” he interjected. “They have to be things you can accomplish before summer is over.”
“Got it. I’ll give you one mild, one hot, one super spicy.” I held up a finger and paused to bide my time. I was winging it here big-time. “Mild…I want to go to the Griffith Observatory. I’ve lived in California for a couple of years, and it’s something I’d like to see. Hot…hmm, I want to do one of those spicy barbecue sauce taste-tests, like that show where you start with tabasco and see if you can make your way to Mad Dog 357.”
Cody wrinkled his nose as he tossed the chip bag onto his desk irritably. “No, you’re purposely misconstruing the objective of the exercise. There should be a modicum of self-betterment involved. Hot sauce does not qualify.”
“And upside-down pineapple cake does?”
“I made it from scratch. It’s not a silly dare. It’s a—never mind. You wouldn’t understand.”
“Try me.”
Cody pushed my foot away from his chair and paced the length of the window near his desk, clenching his fists as he moved.
“Okay. I’ve never been to a concert, I’ve never gone skinny-dipping, and…there are certain sexual positions that I’ve never tried.” He came to a stop in front of me and threw his hands in the air. “There you go. Mild, hot, and spicy.”
“I see. What sexual position are you referring to?”
“Missionary.”
“You’ve never had face-to-face sexy time?”
“No, I haven’t. And I’m sure you can’t relate in any way, shape, or form.”
I rubbed my hand over my beard thoughtfully. “No, but I can help.”
“Help?”
“Sure.” I shifted on the desk to face him, spreading my legs wide. “That’s what you wanted, isn’t it? That’s why you’re interning at Scratch Records. I’m your research.”
He tore his gaze from the faded denim inseam and licked his lips. “Well, not specifically. I didn’t necessarily think I’d have a chance to interact with the band. Observing you was fine by me. That’s the nature of research.”