Total pages in book: 135
Estimated words: 129027 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 645(@200wpm)___ 516(@250wpm)___ 430(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 129027 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 645(@200wpm)___ 516(@250wpm)___ 430(@300wpm)
I grin. “All right, all right. Simmer down, girl. It’s good to know my virile presence causes such a reaction.”
Her mouth drops open as she looks over at me haughtily. “Your virile presen—! Ugh! Men!” She hurries with her little footsteps across the quad as if she could possibly outpace me, but I easily keep up by extending my long strides.
“As if you didn’t think wearing that tight little prim green sweater with that sexy skirt wasn’t going to have me fighting a stiffy all through class.”
She bursts out laughing, holding out the voluminous fabric of her skirt and doing a little twirl that makes the fabric flow outwards in a circle as it catches the wind, giving me a peek of her bare knees and her curvaceous sexy calf that’s topped by an even sexier little pair of black librarian pumps with a little buckle over on the strap.
“I wear this because it’s the least sexy thing I can possibly think of.”
“You thought wrong. Every growing boy dreams about fucking at least one of his teachers.”
“Oh god, don’t tell me that,” she says as we get to her car and she swings her bag from around her chest to deposit in the trunk. “I have a hard enough time getting them to take me seriously. I don’t need to know they’re picturing me naked, too.”
“Sorry, just the truth. Speaking of, any weird interactions while I was out of the room?”
She’s biting her bottom lip as she unlocks the car and sits down in the driver’s seat. As her security, I really should be driving, but she said it was sexist for me to assume I got to drive.
“Maybe if I wore really thick, baggy layers, they’d stop thinking of me as a sex object? Or if I cut my hair short? It’s the long hair, isn’t it? How can I expect the patriarchy to treat me any differently if I keep living up to such patriarchal standards?” She holds out a lock of her beautiful, curly red hair.
“Kira, focus.” I snap and finally manage to catch her attention from the passenger seat. “Any weird interactions with students today?”
“Oh.” She blinks. “Nothing unusual. Phillip repeated facts from the text and other sources, talking over everyone else like he’s the smartest person in the room. Zachary mostly looked like he was trying to murder his paper with his pen.”
“What about the other kid?”
“Dae?”
“I don’t think it’s him. He and Allegra just started dating, and they both look moony-eyed over each other.”
“Allegra? What, he’s dating an allergy medication?”
She smacks me on the arm again before pulling out of her parking spot and navigating the busy parking lot. “Don’t say that. She chose that name. It has a lot of meaning for her. She loves music and is considering doing music therapy for kids.”
“What was her name before?”
“Martha.”
I make a face and get another smack on the shoulder.
“Don’t make people feel bad for their names.”
“You just said she didn’t like it and chose another one!”
“But as the adults, we should be affirming of whatever her name is, or was, and however she chooses to identify in the future.”
“Fucking millennials,” I breathe out under my breath.
“Excuse me,” she arches an eyebrow my way when we’re at a stoplight. “Aren’t you a Millennial? I’m Gen Z, thank you very much.”
“Jesus, you are?” I scrub a hand through my head. What the fuck am I doing here? She’s such a kid, still. Even if she doesn’t feel like it when I see her teaching at the front of a college class. Or sucking my dick. I shake my head to clear the image away with the same thought that she’s Gen Z and I’m closer to X.
“Yeah, I guess technically, I’m a millennial. But I grew up in the late 90s, thinking Gen X was cool as fuck. Plus, most of the guys I served with were Gen X.”
“But nobody wants to be Gen X,” she says, sounding a little horrified. “I mean, they’re, like, the worst.”
That gets a genuine laugh out of me. “Gen Xers say the same about the Boomers.”
“Yeah, but Gen X had like time, to like, I don’t know… fix things. My generation grew up knowing we’d never be able to buy a house or fix the planet.”
I snort. “Pretty sure you’ll be able to buy a house sooner than me. Isn’t that the whole point of your glorious upcoming nuptials? So you can pass on the generational wealth?”
Her mouth had been open as if ready to hit me with her next comeback, but it snaps shut, her shoulders slumping slightly.
“What?” I ask. “Don’t stop now, Red.”
“No,” she breathes out. “You’re right. I’m a total hypocrite. Who am I to rage against the patriarchy when I’ve been so focused on profiting from it? As if I somehow deserve the wealth my ancestors managed to accrue and pass down over generations of oppressing people who had less than them?”