Page 13 of Hypothetical Heart
WINNIE
I just didn’t think they had done anything yet.
I grin when I realize she’s subtly trying to ask if I’ve read anything erotic yet.
I know this is what she has been worried about since I first told her I was going to read the book.
ME
I didn’t think it was appropriate for me to talk about the sex scenes I’ve been reading.
WINNIE
You are reading MY book.
ME
What am I supposed to say, Win? How hot I thought it was when they did it against a mirror?
I’d love to see the way her cheeks flushed when she read that text because I know that they did. Winnifred Carter is way too easy to rile.
WINNIE
OH MY GOSH.
ANYTHING BUT THAT.
IDO NOT NEED NOR WANT TO KNOW THAT.
ME
What? Isn’t this why you read these types of books? They’re hot.
WINNIE
I’m done talking about this.
Goodbye.
ME
Come onnnn.
Do you want to hear about the time they did it in the back of a limo instead?
WINNIE
NO.
I DON’T WANT TO HEAR ABOUT ANY OF IT.
Instead of texting her back, I look out my bedroom window, which directly faces Winnie’s.
I’m struck with all our memories of living next door throughout our childhood. Like trying to string cans from either window to try to talk before we got phones or writing notes to one another and pressing them against the window.
Her bedroom light is on, so I know she’s in her room—she’s not the type to leave a room without turning the light off.
I call her phone, and she answers on the second ring. “I don’t want to hear a single inappropriate word from your mouth.” Her voice is harsh, but it also sounds far away.
