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Big butts are in, Ree, Kenzi would insist.
I have to do about five million squats to even get a hint of that butt, Elsie would pipe in.
Lotta men like curves. That was Tig, Kenzi's man, the big, gorgeous, scary investigator guy who was actually a real teddy bear underneath it all. And he treated my sister like gold, so I had a real soft spot for him.
I wasn't stupid.
I saw big butts everywhere.
They were the new boobs. Everyone wanted a great butt.
That being said, to me, great butts meant those ones like Jessica Biel had - perky and muscular, and wholly devoid of any divots or stretch marks.
When butts got to the size of mine, those things were unavoidable I guess.
Don't bother trying all the remedies you find on Pinterest or Facebook either. Save your money. I did the research for you.
They don't work.
Of course, what would work would be getting off my butt and exercising and cutting back on the junk food, but let's be realistic here.
Some day I would learn to love my rear end. But today was not that day. So I gave it a casual look, shook my head, and disappeared into the too-hot bath water.
Then I went ahead and wondered what the hell one was supposed to do on a Saturday night.
Alone.
I couldn't go to Chaz's.
Because, let's face it, drunk guys wanted to go home with girls from bars. First, I wasn't much of a drinker. Second, I was definitely not a casual-sexer. And third, girls who brought books to bars got all those creepy comments about sexy librarians. And then I would have to admit that I was, in fact, a librarian, and deal with the consequences from there.
Quite frankly, I was exhausted even thinking about it.
Out of town clubs were out for the same reason.
Going out to eat alone would get me pity looks even though I was perfectly happy to eat by myself.
That left, well, the ice cream place.
And... the coffeeshop.
I liked the coffeeshop.
This likely had a lot to do with the fact that they sell coffee. But it was also because the owners were fun and funny, there weren't too many tables, so it never got too crowded, and they had cool things like poetry slams, comedy nights, and live music.
I had been to the poetry slams they held on Tuesday nights, liking finding local talent and seeing if they had collections that I could get for the shelves at work, knowing there was a genuine interest for teens in spoken word and the only way to get any was by indie publications. But Saturday nights weren't nights I typically went in, being the live music night. It wasn't that I didn't like music per se, but I wasn't completely obsessed with it either.
But it would be an adventure of sorts.
Maybe I would even talk to someone.
You know, aside from the girls who worked there.
Hell, maybe that person could even be a man.
Of course, that might have been asking for too much.
But I was going to, you know, try at least.TWOCyrus"You're working? It's a Saturday night." This disgust came from Sugar who was hoping we could hit the town and find some skirts at Chaz's.
"You're going to make us handle all the pretty girls all by ourselves?" Roderick piped in. "I mean, we can totally manage, but you've never been one to turn down a night out."
"My set is for an hour," I said, shrugging. "Your asses can grab a cup of coffee and wait it out."
Quite frankly, I was glad for the new blood. Pagan had been good for nights out for a while, but then he got shacked up with Kennedy, and all his free time went to her. You know, as it should be. If you're gonna get yourself a permanent type of girl, it's only right that you spend all your free time with her. Otherwise, what's the point?
But with him coupled up, and Laz with someone, before the new bloods, that only left me with Edison and Reeve. And, let's face it, they were not the best wingmen around. First, it was damn near impossible to get their grandpa asses out of the compound past eight on a Saturday night at all. Second, when you did bring them out, they glared (in Edison's case) or looked completely disinterested in everything (in my brother's case) and therefore made the whole thing less than ideal.
Now, well, I had Sugar, who might have been a more insatiable woman-chaser than me, which was really saying something. I also had his buddy Virgin, whose name was completely ironic since he got loads of pussy. On top of that, there was Roderick who was - and I am comfortable enough in my own masculinity to admit this shit - a really good looking dude who had the advantage of all that Spanish charm of his. Once in a blue moon, Roan would come out too, rounding everything out. I was the charming guy with the beard and guitar; Sugar was the slightly dangerous guy who good girls wanted to take for a ride; Virgin was the mysterious one; Roderick was the life of the party; Roan, well, he was the older man, the slightly silver fox, the one who got all the girls with daddy issues to come a-running.
