I hum, caught off guard by his use of the words ‘people’ and ‘nerdy.’DoIqualify as nerdy?a shit-stirring voice inquires.
“But back to the subject at hand. It’s not that wild of an idea. Asking him out. I mean, you’ve been on dates.”
I nod non-committally.
“Ruby?”
“Hmm?”
“You have dated before. I know you and Grant were together for at least a year.”
I throw a sidelong glance at him. Has he been asking around about me? “How exactly would you know how long Grant and I were together?”
Eitan squints out the front windshield. “I had to do my research.” He puts a hand over his heart. “I take my role as your coach very seriously.”
That’s a yes. I hide my thrill behind my hand.
“You’re really milking this coach thing,” I tell him. “I used to date more. I just haven’t gotten back into the swing of it since…you know.”
“What’s stopping you?” he asks.
He glances at me, and I see in his eyes he’s completely serious. “Where do I begin?”
Eitan shrugs.
I sigh and throw my hands up. “I don’t have tits.”
“You do. I’m looking at them right now.” His glance only lasts a second, but the thought of Eitan staring at—admiring, perhaps?—my chest is blush-inducing.
I barrel on. “I have no estrogen in my body. I’m menopausal.”
“And the relevance is…?”
“My—” I huff. How do I explain vaginal elasticity to a normie? “Equipment is different.”
“Different how?” He tilts his head.
Well, he asked for it. “The tissue down there changes. Less blood flow. Less lubrication. Less…everything.”
“Isn’t there something called lube?”
I growl. How dare he take every issue I name and offer mitigation? “I’m—bald!”
“You literally have a full head of hair.”
I’m about to rip out said hair. “I’m just not ready!”
“That’s fair.” He nods. “I just don’t see how you’re going to become ready if you don’t try.”
I knead my temples. “I’ll be ready when my life sucks less.” The hangover of oversharing about my vaginal tissue’s blood flow is catching up to me.
“Your life doesn’t suck,” Eitan says calmly.
“My life does suck! The Universe is out to get me,” I insist, feeling and sounding like a teenager. I take a deep breath and re-center myself. “My life isnota tragedy, to be clear.”
Eitan holds up a placating hand. “Never said it was.”
“And why do you even care!” I mean this as a question but it comes out more like a scream.
