Page 53 of Rewrite the Rules

Joel:Seriously?

Me:Super-duper serious.

Joel:You know once I send this we can’t go back, right?

Me:Pony up, playboy.

Oh, come on! He has to know that wasn’t me.

Joel:Okay, you asked for it. I’m going to spend a few minutes thinking about your sexy self so you can get the full effect. *winky face*

I scroll down a bit more to see a full-frontal image of a completely erect—and nicely manicured, I might add—hulk of a penis.

Joel’s penis.

We really just went there.

Actually, Tessa went there. Drunk Tessa went there.Thank you, beer, you may or may not be ruining my life.

Shock aside, it happens to be one of the most exquisite sights I’ve ever seen and I will spend the rest of my life comparing all male members to this immaculate testament to man. I blink a few times as I gawk with my jaw hitting the floor—literally, because I’m face down on the hard floor.

“Tessa,” I hiss. Her slumped body twitches just a foot away from mine. “You saw this?”

“Yep.”

“Am I crazy? Am I so drunk I’m seeing double?”

“What?”

“This picture…that has to be two thingies photoshopped into one, right?”

Tessa snickers uncontrollably. “No, girl. I’m a li’l worried for you. Thas not a good starter penis.”

Yup, that’s what I’m worried about too.

“If he’s not an absolute gentleman, I’ll kill him myself,” Tessa mumbles right before she succumbs to her booze-induced coma. My phone buzzes in my hand as another message from Joel comes through.

Joel:Your turn?

I call upon the herculean strength within me, which will be necessary to text a lucid sentence to him right now.

Me:What exactly are you wanting a picture of?

Joel:You really want me to type it out?

Me:I will be home in less than fifteen hours and you can see whatever you want then.

Joel:Fifteen hours? Can I put you on an earlier flight?

Me:Goodnight, Mr. Lewis.

Joel:Goodnight, Baby Spice.

I can’t fight my heavy eyelids much longer and I won’t let us sleep on the floor of this hotel room. I poke Tessa and she instantly stirs and leaps onto the bed with the grace of an antelope in its prime. I, on the other hand, clammer up the other side like I’m trying to scale a rock wall with legs that have the muscular integrity of an overcooked noodle.

After much strain and effort, I plop down on the fluffy comforter, satisfied with my accomplishment. I don’t bother getting under the covers.This is good enough.I let myself drift seeing only one very vivid picture as my eyelids clamp shut.

nineteen

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