From Butt to Booty Read Online Free PDF Page A

not riding in a vehicle with drunk Stevie behind the wheel.
    “So?” Stephen draws it out.
    “So? Family good?” I really should be more attentive. I’m sure I’m not being a good girlfriend.
    “They are. Crazy. You see that show this morning?”
    “We had to watch the parade.”
    “Rose Parade? That’s cool. We were treated to Dr. Phil’s Holiday Family Makeover. My mom TiVo’d it so she could stop it and make us all do the exercises.”
    That’s hideous. I thought my mom was the only one who watched bad talk show reruns. “Wow.”
    “Yeah. Look, I really like you.”
    “I like you, too.”
    “I feel all, you know, safe with you, like I could tell you anything.”
    Wow, um, really? Because I don’t think I feel that way at all. “Me too,” I say, since the silence kinda demands it.
    “So I’m not sure how to say this—”
    Oh, Lord, he’s breaking up with me. I sit up and blink in the dark. I’m getting dumped on New Year’s Day. I was a ball-dropping kiss and nothing more.
    “I have a small dick.”
    What? He did not just say that.
    “I’m sorry?” The bacteria on the eggs must be replicating in my brain, causing all sorts of irrevocable brain damage. And ear damage.
    “My penis. It’s small,” he says again.
    Good God, what the hell do I say? I have to say something.
Your tongue makes up for it
. I try to laugh a little to break the tension. That makes it worse. Are we really in the place in the relationship where you can fart freely and overshare insecurities? God, that was quick. I thought you had to have sex half a dozen times and do holidays at the other family’s house before you got to be this free.
    Must say something supportive and not totally mortified. “I’m sorry.” Think. Think. Is there anything worse for a guy? I don’tknow. Think. “Maybe it’s not. I think my boobs are small.” Not really, but I’m so not using the V-word on the phone with a guy I’ve been dating for a couple of months. Besides, I’d be lying if I mentioned my vagina. I have no idea if it’s small or humongous. I’d like to keep the lying to a minimum.
    “You think your boobs are small?” he asks.
    “Yep.” Brain hemorrhage right now, please. Quick death.
    He’s grunting and breathing. “Well, they are a little small. Have you thought about getting a boob job?”
    Have you thought about getting your dick expanded? “No, they’re still growing.”
    “Oh.” He sounds deflated.
    I feel the need to soften my last comment. “I’m sure yours is, too.”
    “What?”
    “Growing. Your penis. Is still growing.” I’m almost whispering this, hoping my mother isn’t listening for the first time ever at my door. She’ll never believe I’m as shocked as she is. We are not having this conversation. I’m in an E. coli–induced nightmare. I will wake up in a hospital surrounded by balloons and flowers.
    “Sometimes, but I don’t think it stays that way.”
    This could not get worse. Couldn’t. Must get off the phone. “I have to go. My dad is yelling for me.”
    “Oh. Okay. I’ll talk to you later.”
    “Sure. Later.”
Like when I know what to say to you
. I just can’t get the image of a teeny-tiny dick out of my head. I don’t want this picture in here. Get it out. Get it out!
    I hang up the phone and stare at the ceiling. Did that really happen? Let me be hallucinating.
    Please. I am not that lucky.

    “How was your New Year’s?” Adam’s much-needed call breaks my small-penis-am-I-gay-inflicted trance.
    “Uh.” Language is beyond me.
    “What’s that mean?”
    “Uh.” The idea of Stephen’s small dick is just painfully mortifying—so is that proof I’m gay? Although frankly, if Stevie was a girl I’d have to kill myself. What does this mean?
    Adam waits a second to launch. “Whenever you’re ready, but in the meantime we had a fabulous time. Incredible. Love cuddling. He’s so cute and smells so—”
    “I—I—gay?” I stammer.
    “What?”
    I try again.