She rolls her eyes at me. "She's not me. Right. You said that, Fee."
"I'm not attracted to her. I don't know that I've ever had a type, per se. The girls I've…well, dated is a strong word for it. Seen? Been with? Whatever. There's no pattern."
Her brow scrunches. "Why are you telling me this?"
"Because it turns out I do have a type. And it's not tall, skinny, rich women with black hair and too much makeup."
She lets the corners of her mouth lift in an almost-smile. "I'm pretty sure I've heard this one, but go on."
"It turns out my type is short girls with white-blond hair."
"Those are a dime a dozen, Fee," she whispers. "Might have to be more specific."
"Oh, hmmm—you're right. She has to have the biggest, juiciest tits I've ever seen."
She looks down at her chest. "Oh." She cups and lifts her breasts. "Like these?"
"Exactly like those," I say. "But that's not all of the requirements."
"There's more?"
"Oh yeah. She has to have an ass that doesn't quit. Her eyes have to be the most unique shade of gray on the planet—the color of quicksilver." I shift closer to her. Stare into the aforementioned silver eyes. "She has to be…undomesticated. Wild. The kind of woman you know you're never, ever gonna tame. She has to drive a 1967 VW Bus covered in stickers, and it has to be pumpkin orange."
"Fee," she whispers, eyes shimmering. "Stop."
"Mmmm, not quite done. Just a few more items on the list."
"Fine," She sighs, her expression complicated—curious, cautious, hopeful, scared. "I'll bite. What else?"
"Well, let’s see—she has to be amazingly brave, resilient, strong, and kind. Funny. Weird."
"I'm not weird," she protests in a whisper.
"Yeah, you are," I say. "She also has to be willing to adopt crazy old ladies as surrogate grandmothers. She has to click with my friends. She has to have an easy laugh."
"Easy laugh? What's that?"
"Someone who’s easy to make laugh. It makes you feel funny, and that's excellent for your self-esteem."
"Oh," she breathes. "And I'm an easy laugh?"
"Yep."
She swallows hard. "That's a big list to fill, Fee. Is that it?"
“One last thing," I say. "The sex has to be out of this fucking world."
"But we haven't even actually had sex, Fee," she whispers. "We just…messed around a little bit. Once."
"And that was, by far and bar none, the hottest sex of my life."
She squeezes her eyes shut, shaking her head. "Don’t lie to me or butter me up, Fee."
"What makes you think I am?"
"I'm not all that."
I laugh. "Ember, I literally described exactly, specifically you."
