Page 50 of Perfect Enough
“I mean, I don’t care at all. It would be sad for all females because you have a nice…well, you know. But I won’t judge you at all if you like men.”
“I’m not gay, Sophia.”
Her face pulled into a confused expression. “But how has a woman noteverseen you naked? Do you keep the lights off? Because I’m here to tell you that you donotneed to be shy with that body. Any woman would love to see and explore it. I mean, I’m saying that strictly as an observation, of course.”
I stirred the eggs and popped bread into the toaster. I glanced at Sophia, who was now studying me like I was some kind of new species she had to examine under a microscope. I focused back on the eggs as I let out a groan and willed my hard-on to go back down.
“I know you don’t have a problem with the little guy getting um…well…hard.”
Turning, I stared at her. “Little guy?”
She laughed. “Well, whatever you want to call him. That is, if you have a name for him. Oh! If you don’t have a name for him, we can come up with one!”
I raised a brow. “Do you have a name forher?” I asked as I jerked my chin to indicate her lower body.
Glancing down, she shook her head. “No, I never thought about naming her.”
When she looked back up at me, and I knew she was being serious, I laughed.
“Good God, you are unlike any other woman I have ever met.”
“Is that a bad thing?” she asked with a smile.
I stared at her mouth for too long before I dragged my gaze back to the eggs. “Not at all. It’s refreshing.”
The toast popped up, and Sophia grabbed it. “How much butter on your toast?”
I shrugged. “I guess the normal amount.”
“I like a lot of butter, so I’ll do a bit less for you. I like my toast mushy.”
“That’s gross. Why toast it then?”
“It’s notthatmushy, just soft. Yeah, soft is a better word. I love soft.” Then she mumbled, “Not to describeotherthings, though.”
I shook my head and turned back to the eggs. “I’ll take just a little bit of butter. There’s jelly in there as well if you want any.”
“I don’t, do you?”
“No, thanks.”
I turned off the burner, slid the eggs onto our plates, and then returned the hot pan to the stove. I grabbed the salt and pepper grinders and placed them on the island.
“Wow, I didn’t realize how hungry I was,” Sophia said as she peppered her eggs.
“Me, too. Do you want some orange juice?”
“Oh, yes, that sounds good.”
It was strange how natural this felt, as if we had shared space in this kitchen countless times.
“Glasses?” Sophia asked.
Pointing to a cabinet, I replied, “That one right there.”
She grabbed two glasses, and I poured as I asked, “Do you want to eat here on the island or the back porch? It might be a bit chilly out.”
“I think here is okay.”