Page 8 of Tattoo My Heart
It all goes amazingly well until I realize that I have to input what I am looking for in the man I am trying to hire as myholidate.
“Tall. Definitely tall,” I mumble in the empty room. I put my head back and try to think how tall I’m going for. “Six-three,” I decide with conviction.
Next, we have hair.
“Hmmm, brown,” I decide and rush to type in.
Eyes. This stomps me. I need to focus. I stare at the screen without seeing it, trying to picture the sexiest eyes I’ve ever seen in my life.
“Hazel,” I type in with confidence.
Athletic body?
“Hell yes.”
Tattoos?
“Also yes.”
Sense of humor.
“Definitely.” I mean, I’m funny on my own, but if I was to go out with someone with zero sense of humor, it would ruin my vibe as well. I just can’t deal with people who are not funny. I don’t need pranksters or anything like that. Because that would just be annoying. I just want someone I can laugh with in casual conversation.
The rest of the stuff they’re asking for is not important to me. They want to know about college education, current job, what I’d expect them to wear.
“Casual, but not hobo like,” I add, then snort in laughter. I’m picturing taking someone home who looks like he just went through a fight with Edward Scissor Hands. My stepfather and his family would just stare in awe, and my mother would pretend that she’s not seeing what’s right in front of her.
I grab my phone to call Carrie back.
“I made a profile,” I inform her as soon as she answers the phone. “And I’d like to tell you all about it if the little munchkin will allow us to chat.”
“He’s good, sleeping again,” she assures me.
I shake my head in confusion. “I don’t understand. How much does he actually sleep? Wasn’t he sleeping when I called earlier?”
“They sleep a lot when they grow,” my best friend explains to me patiently. She’s always been fascinated with babies and couldn’t wait to have one of her own. Me on the other hand, I’ve just felt safer watching from a distance.
“Wow, that’s just fascinating…”
“Before I forget, Evie,” she cuts me off. “Me and James were talking last night. And you came up in the conversation…”
“Aww he wants to come help me with my date situation?” I clasp my hands together and stare into the phone even though she can’t see me.
Carrie just laughs. “No, you goofball.” Her tone somehow puts me on high alert.
“Care,” I start in a warning tone. “If you tell me that you guys really discussed me being a sister wife with you,” I remind her of her earlier comment, “I swear to God that…”
“What?!”
Okay, she sounds agitated enough by my assumption where it leads me to believe that I got it wrong.
“Oh,” I mumble in apology. “So it wasn’t that. Please go on then.”
There’s a long pause where neither one of us says another word. I wonder if I should just hang up and pretend I never called her. Or, I could start ghosting both her and her boyfriend, and we’d never have to have this conversation again.
“Evie, you are weird, girl,” she finally busts out laughing. I can breathe now. “And that is why I love you to death and you’re going to be my best friend forever.”
“Amen to that,” I rush to agree. “So if it wasn’t that, what was it that you wanted to tell me?”
