Page 58 of Coast to Coast

Me: I hope you end up with a four-hour-long erection and have to go to the ER.

Tom:

Tom: I’ll work on the four-hour-long erection. Do you think you can handle it?

I couldn’t help but laugh at his emoji and teasing. But it was refreshing to know we were equally frustrated by the distance. I turned the shower on and dropped my workout clothes in a pile while waiting for the water to come to temperature. And, I changed my mind about using the shower dong; I could wait until I got to bed. Would Tom wait?

Tomorrow, Kelsey planned to go to a baseball game in the evening. If all went well, the Minutemen would clinch thedivision tonight, guaranteeing a playoff berth. I had offered to join Crew and take him home so they could all go out and celebrate afterward. I could tell that she had a tough time asking me to take care of Crew. Yes, she wrote half of my paychecks, but she wasn’t accustomed to the lifestyle where nannies were common.

I could see both Kelsey and Tom in Crew, in appearance and personality, but I couldn’t imagine them together outside of that. Was there the slightest twinge of jealousy that Kelsey had Tom? Eh, maybe a tiny bit, but anyone around them could see that Crew was their only bond. And I’d been unfortunate enough to pass through the second floor at the wrong time; Sam and Kelsey were very active and very much in love.

After my shower, I replayed the conversation with Tom as I prepared for bed. Did he imply that my eight-inch dildo was cute? Wait, how big was he? I mean, Wikipedia told me the last time I researched that the mean penis size was about five inches, which would make my shower dong larger than most men. I wasn’t a prude, and Zander wasn’t my first, but I hadn’t come across many dicks bigger than my dildo.

Me to Juno: Can we talk dick size?

Juno: Holy shit. I’m sitting here with Mom and Dad. And I shouldn’t, but WTF, Cal, why is this urgent right now?

Me: How many penises have you seen? Or better yet, how many penises have you handled.

Juno: Why?

Me: I’m just trying to figure out like the maximum size.

Juno: Colby was big, like 7 inches. But as you know, we never did the deed.

Me: Handled?

Juno: Not much. But yes, his was the only penis I’ve “handled”

Me: We need to put a pin in this conversation.

Juno: Well, yeah. Blah, blah. Later. But look up the average size of a woman’s vagina.

I tapped that question into Google only to find yet another range of sizes and that, yes, a vagina could expand when aroused to accommodate a larger penis. But really, anything larger than eight inches will be a tight fit.

Juno: Can you explain why we are discussing this?

Me: I have a toy, it’s eight inches, and someone was claiming to be bigger.

Juno: Are you talking to that sexy hockey boss about his dick size?

Me:

Juno: Shit, dammit. Do you realize Mom writes novels about this? They always fall for the nanny, all that forced proximity—only a matter of time.

I put my phone face down on my nightstand and rolled over aggressively on my side. Did I want to sleep with Tom? Hell, yes, but I also missed him. I missed the easy way we worked togetherin the kitchen, our routine at the end of the night, and how he looked at me when I sang and played the guitar as Crew drifted off to sleep.

In high school, I had learned to play the guitar quietly, alone in my room. My music teacher had worked with me, even though I refused to perform. He had encouraged me to apply to Berklee and was so excited when I’d been accepted. His disappointment was devastating when he found out I committed to Boston University.

Once I got to college, few people knew I played, and I sneaked off for open mic nights whenever I had the chance. Zander was not just unsupportive of my music, but he made me think that my music teacher had misguided me. He had me questioning my talent. While he wasn’t what I would have categorized as an abusive boyfriend, Zander was manipulative and controlling and lived to diminish my abilities.

So, when Tom went out of his way to find me a gig? Yeah, that hit me in the feels. He barely knows me, yet he knows me better than Zander ever bothered to know me. When I think about what I offered Zander and what I would have given him, I’m so incredibly sad for the woman I was back then. I wouldn’t take that internship back, or the job that resulted from it, for any amount of money. The cliché about one door opening when another closes has resonated hard with me this past month. I’m not sure what opened or if a door opened, but I’d still slam the old one shut.

I picked up my book, the second in the series that Tom had read, snapped a photo, and texted it to him.

Me: I will leave this for you on your next trip. Book 2 in the series.

Tom: I already ordered it. It will be delivered tomorrow.

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