Page 30 of I Heart Mason Cartwright
“He’s okay.”
He gasps dramatically. “You want to bone him.”
“Girls don’t bone.”
“You want him to bone you.”
“No, I don’t.”
“Oh, Willicent, don’t lie to me. It’s a waste of breath.”
“You know I hate the name Willicent. Willow, Wills, Willsy, all fine. Willicent is weird.”
“Not true, you like it because I’m the only one who uses it. That and Willimena. Plus, your family calls you both Wills and Willsy and you hate it.”
“Not when my dad uses it.”
“Agree to disagree.”
I can picture him flicking his hand in the air to disregard my response.
“Now,” he continues, “describe the man you want to bone you. Leave no luscious detail out.”
“I never said I want him to bone me.”
“It was implied.”
“Can we stop using the word bone?”
“When’s the last time you got laid, again?”
“Point taken.”
I hate that he knows me so well.
“Thank you. Now, tell Zachy all about the pretty boy.”
“Tall. Like still four or five inches taller than me.”
“And you’re an Amazon.”
“Exactly. Brown hair, that looks a little tousled. Brown eyes, huge smile, salt-and-pepper beard, broad shoulders, muscles everywhere.”
“Yummy. Is he older?”
“I don’t think so. I got the impression he’s early to mid-thirties with premature gray in the facial hair.”
“Full head of hair?”
“Yes.”
“Is he a bear? Maybe I should take him?”
“I haven’t seen him shirtless. I don’t know. And it doesn’t matter because he’s engaged to my sister—”
“Half sister.”
“And therefore, off-limits to us both.”
