The Kiss That Launched 1,000 Gifs (22 page)

He hadn’t, but now Grace really wished he had. Or she had. Or someone had. Or something, because time was up. The play-in music was played out and it was time to roll.

“So it’s Monday here on Battle of the Sexes,” Grace said, putting a smile in her voice before realizing this wasn’t a smiley show. “But before we get into the show, Ash and I have some big news.”

Across the table, Ash leaned in and spoke into his mic. “And when you say ‘big,’ let’s be clear that this news falls into the Big Bummer category of news, not a Big Happy category.”

He’d caught her misstep. Crap.

“Yes,” Grace agreed quickly. “I should have been more specific about that. This definitely isn’t good news, but…” She couldn’t think of how to finish the sentence. Everything sounded too abrupt. “Wow, this is harder than I thought.”

“Breaking bad news?” Ash said. “Yeah. But drawing it out only generates anxiety. Best just to get to the point.”

“True,” Grace said, a little surprised at Ash’s objectivity. “You want to give it a shot?”

Ash gave a little nod and repositioned his mic as he moved into his Clooney voice. “Sure, but before I say this, I want to make it clear that Grace and I have had this news on our radar for a while. We’ve known it was a possibility for months, which is why you’ve seen giant billboard campaigns and other marketing gimmicks pushing you to tune in. Grace and I have been trying to prove that our fun local show is the best show to fill the hours between two and four each weekday afternoon, but the fact is that someone beat us out.” He let that settle in. “That means, this is the last week of the Battle of the Sexes before a new show takes over our slot, called Love 411. It’s a radio-advice show that is syndicated around the country. So while you may not have heard of Love 411 yet, you will. And based on their ratings, you’re going to love it.”

“So while you still have five more shows with us,” Grace added, “a week from today at this same time, you will be hearing your first episode of Love 411, rather than Battle of the Sexes.”

“But don’t worry that this change is putting Grace and me out of a job,” Ash said. “We still have our jobs. We’ll just be in different departments, arguing with different people.”

Ash smiled at her to jump in, which turned out to be a big mistake. Hours of watching #Fossy GIFs on Tumblr over the weekend jumped into Grace’s mind like popup ads the moment their eyes locked. She’d had something in mind to say, but it vaporized somewhere between her mind and her mouth.

“But it won’t be the same,” Ash filled in as Grace fought to close the popups. “I’m putting on a brave face right now, but I really am bummed.”

“Me, too,” Grace replied, happy not to drop the ball twice in a row. But did her voice sound strained to him? Because it sounded strained to her.

“I was thinking about the last week of shows over the weekend,” Ash said. “And I thought that it might be fun to change things up a bit. Like, maybe we could make it a week that’s all about taking calls and talking to as many people as possible. It could be an NHB week with our listeners.”

“NHB?” Grace asked.

“Sorry,” Ash said. “NHB is a fighting term for no holds barred. It means everything is on the table. For us, it would mean that nothing regarding the battles between the sexes is off the table—or at least that was my thought. I’m open to suggestions.”

“Sounds good to me,” Grace said, grateful for an excuse to turn to her computer. “But does that mean if no one calls in that we have nothing to talk about?”

“I don’t know,” Ash said, sending a flirtatious smile to the webcam. “I guess I imagined that enough people would call in for it not to be an issue.”

“You would think that,” Grace laughed over an irrational ping of jealousy, even as she noted that the phone lines were indeed lighting up. “But I’m game to give that a try. We can call it Fan Appreciation Week.”

“Or the girls can call it that,” Ash teased. “We guys will call it NHB Week.”

“Of course,” Grace agreed, feeling a little off balance. Usually Ash was so warm—even flirty. Last Friday he’d been cold and distant. Now he was his usual playful self minus all of the flirt. He looked at her, but his eyes weren’t warm. He was speaking to her, but it felt impersonal—like he would have said the same thing to anyone sitting in her chair.

It was better than how things were on Friday, true. But at the same time it didn’t feel right, either. It felt… shallow.

“So let’s give this format a try, shall we?” Ash was saying to their audience. “No holds barred, ladies and gentlemen. You can ask us anything, and we won’t waste time. We’ll start taking calls right now.”

Who was the woman in the photo you posted on Instagram over the weekend? It was the first question that popped into Grace’s mind, and she hoped that a fan of the show had the same question. Because the woman had been cute—one of those sun-kissed athletic women with blue eyes that seemed to glow with an inner light.

And Ash had been cozy with whoever she was the day after he’d kissed Grace.

Who did that? Grace couldn’t be the only one who found that post incredibly tacky. Apparently not, since their first call was a woman calling to see if Ash was really single.

Fully annoyed, Grace kept her mouth shut and let Ash handle the call. She had a feeling she was just getting her first taste of the rest of her week.

Tuesday

“Our next call is from Bev,” Ash said, punching in the line as Grace leaned back and let him take the lead. “I hear you’ve got a good one for us, Bev, so lay it out there.”

“Hi, Ash,” a female voice said in a nervous-happy tone. “First-time caller, but let me say how much I’ve enjoyed your show over the past couple of years and how much I’m going to miss it.”

“We’re going to miss you, too,” Ash said, sending a wave to the webcam. “But hopefully Grace and I can help you with your question. Lay it on us!”

Bev gave a nervous laugh. “Well, I guess since it’s your last week, you can really give it to us straight. You’ve always said that a lot of men don’t prefer skinny women, but if that’s so, why are those the women in all the magazines? If men don’t prefer that look, why does it sell the best?”

“Um, because women are the ones who buy magazines?” he offered.

“I’m being serious,” Bev said.

Ash sighed. “Would you believe me if I said I was too?”

“It’s a valid question,” Grace said, joining in the conversation. “In past episodes you’ve always said that men like all types of women, and yet I’ve only seen you date the type of woman Bev is talking about—the model on the cover of Maxim.”
Like that girl in your Instagram photo.

Grace’s mind really wasn’t letting that picture go.

Ash shrugged helplessly. “I’m an active guy. Everything I do is outside and usually involves athletics, so that’s the kind of women I cross paths with. It doesn’t mean I don’t find other women attractive. It just means we’re not at the same place at the same time, and that we don’t enjoy doing the same things.”

Grace laughed. “You’re telling me that no full-figured women share your hobbies? Try again, Miller.”

Ash shook his head. “I learned long ago that there’s nothing I can say on this matter that women will believe, unless I’m repeating what fashion magazines say I should say.”

“Which is what?” Grace prompted.

Ashton let out a sigh. “That the bonier a woman is, the better. Right? Isn’t that what I’m supposed to say here?”

“Well, maybe not boney,” Grace said. “But women are often shown other women who are a Size 0 or a Size 2. Yet polling of men seems to claim that men choose Size 12 as ideal. Would you say that’s correct?”

Ash brought his lips up to his microphone, knowing it would cause some distortion as he said, “I. Like. Curves.” He leaned back a few inches and continued. “I don’t even have to think when it comes to the difference between sizes 2 and 12. I would choose 12 any day. Why is that so hard for women to believe?”

“Because it’s not what we see,” Grace said.

“Really?” Ash laughed. “When you go out on the street, you don’t see Size 12 women with rings on their fingers every day? Are you telling me that every woman over Size 2 is single and has no men hitting on her out in the real world?” He made a show of looking Grace up and down before adding. “I’m guessing you’re a Size 8, Grace. Are you telling me that no men hit on you?”

“Well, no—”

“Exactly,” Ash said, noting that her cheeks were flushing slightly. Ash tried not to focus too much on that. He focused on his mic. “Bev, I’m going to lay it out for you and every other woman listening one last time. There is no one type of woman that all men are attracted to. Women think way harder on this topic than men do—like,
way
harder. Men are like trolls in a botanical garden. Everywhere we look we see blooms of different shapes and sizes and colors, and think,
Ooooh. Pretty. Me likey.
Women are more like bees that get right up into the business of all the details and develop opinions as to why one flower is better than another.”

“Wow, Ashton, that’s a good line,” Grace said, her lips pursed flirtatiously. “Did you practice that one?”

Ashton kept his eyes on hers. “No. Things like that just roll off my tongue whenever I speak the truth. Which is always, by the way.”

“Sure,” she drawled. “So what you’re telling Bev now is that men really don’t see a difference between a Size 2 and a Size 12?”

“Of course we see the difference,” Ashton said with a laugh. “That’s like asking if a man can tell the difference between a Gerber daisy and a tiger lily. He knows which one is more exotic, but that doesn’t mean he wants to share the same air as tiger lilies all day, every day. Sure, a tiger lily for a day or a month might be great just to say he’s been there and done that. But deep down he may just be a Gerber daisy kind of guy.”

“I see,” Grace said diplomatically. “So your advice to Bev on what she should think every time she sees one of those magazines covers trying to coerce her into being one version of pretty is what?

“That the one thing desirable women have in common is that they
feel
pretty and desirable,” he said, kind of impressed with how coherent he sounded. “A woman who feels attractive sends signals to a man that
maybe
he won’t get shot down if he asks her out on a date. I promise there is no conspiracy among men to get all women to look the same. Just like every woman doesn’t like the same physical type of man, there is no female standard for what
all
men like. It varies. But most men do like a woman who is comfortable in her own skin. I think that might be the closest to a universal quality men are attracted.”

Grace opened her mouth to respond, but Ash cut her off.

“And that’s my final answer on behalf of all decent men in the universe,” he said, staring Grace down. “So you women can go on buying all the magazines saying that you need to buy this or lose that to be pretty. You can buy a new pair of shoes every day and a new dress for every occasion, but just remember that’s what other women think about and read about and care about. Not men.”

Ash hid a smile when Grace dropped eye contact, his words hopefully hitting too close to home.

“All a man wants to know that his woman is happy and wants him back. Forget fads. If a man has those two things, he’s got it made.”

Wednesday

“Our next call is from a listener who wants us to call her Linda,” Grace said, putting Linda’s line on the air. “She wishes to remain anonymous, and says that she really is taking us at our word that this is NHB question week.”

“Bring it,” Ash said, tossing his stress ball up in the air before giving it a firm squeeze when he caught again. Now that he knew there was an entire Tumblr feed devoted to examining his rippling arm muscles on the show, Grace had noticed that he seemed to be happy enough to provide new material.