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“Oh… it’s about a boy,” she stated with understanding.
I shook my head even though she couldn’t see me. “How do you know that?”
“Oh, honey, psssh, in life it’s either our moms or it’s our men. Now, come on, tell your favorite aunt what’s going on?”
“I wish I knew,” I grumbled, walking in the kitchen to grab a soda out of the fridge.
“Start from the beginning.”
I took a deep breath. “He’s an asshole,” I laughed.
“Oh, honey, they all are. That’s part of the appeal. Better for you to find that out sooner rather than later, when it hurts more. Now, keep going.”
“No, I mean like a real asshole, Aunt Celeste. He uses girls, sleeps around with everyone, and make’s no excuses for it. He’s blunt, rude, crude, and cocky as shit.”
“You just described my last few boyfriends. Any relation?”
We laughed. I knew she was trying to make me smile. I hopped up onto the counter, took a sip from my soda, and continued to describe Dylan.
“But he’s also deep in a weird, mysterious way. There’s so much more to him than what he lets people see. He says everything I need to hear in a few words. He’s honest, caring, and he doesn’t sugarcoat shit. He says what he needs to say. He’s the most real person I have ever met.”
“Then what’s the problem, honey?” she questioned, not understanding the issue at hand.
“I don’t think he likes me.”
“What do you mean? What’s not to like?”
“We’ve been hanging out for a month and nothing has happened. He holds my hand, opens my door, and kisses my forehead. He talks to me all the time, whether it’s at school, over the phone, or texting. Aunt Celeste, I think I’m in the friend-zone now or something,” I confessed.
“First off, since this isn’t about me, I’m going to let go of the fact that you’ve been hanging out with this boy for the last month, and I’m just now hearing about it. We will come back to that later.”
I chuckled. She always knew the right things to say to me, to get me to laugh and make me feel better.
“Honey, he definitely likes you plain and simple, no doubt about it.”
“Then why hasn’t he tried anything? He sleeps with anything that has a pulse, but he hasn’t even kissed me. He hasn’t even tried to. He has to know by now that I want him to!” I exclaimed, getting worked up over the whole situation again, like I did when he left. “He’s sending mixed signals, and I called him out on it. All he had to say was and I quote, ‘I’m leaving because I do like you.’ What the hell does that even mean? He wouldn’t even let me ask before he turned and left.”
“Your house?”
“Yes.”
“Your mom’s working?”
“You know she is. She’s always working.”
“Oh, honey, he is a keeper.”
“What?” I asked, utterly confused and surprised with her response.
“Long story short… he can’t keep his junk in his pants. Never has, am I right? He respects you enough to not tempt himself to not keep his junk in his pants. Understand?”
“That makes no sense,” I simply stated.
“That’s because you’re seeing it like a hormonal teenager. Take a step back. You’re different, honey. He knows that.”
“Oh…”
“There’s your crash course into a man’s psyche. You’re welcome!” she laughed. “Look, honey, I have to go. We’re on deadline with this marketing campaign, and my boss is riding my ass. I’ll be in meetings all night, so I’ll call you tomorrow. I’ll come to visit as soon as this merger is over in the next few weeks.”
