Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 90682 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90682 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
I catch him winking as I close the door.
I love a challenge…
He wasn’t speaking to me when he said it—wasn’t speaking about me, either. He was talking about scaling the side of the house to get down to the yard.
Still.
I lie in bed, tossing and turning, his words echoing in my mind.
After everyone left—calling Ubers because they were all drinking—I came up to my room and hid, wanting to be alone with my thoughts.
Duke Colter is a celebrity, and you are a schoolteacher. He would never be interested in a woman like you.
Plus, he is five years younger.
Clicking open the app store on my phone, I type in the word DATING and hit SEARCH. The results are a long list of dating and connecting and hookup apps.
I download one and bite down on my bottom lip.
Who meets people this way anymore?
Everyone, the little voice says.
Literally everyone.
Once upon a time, I had an online dating account, and apparently, I hadn’t actually deleted my account; deleting the app from my phone is not the same thing as deleting the actual account, and so—all I have to do is enter my phone number and wa-lah! There’s my profile.
It's old.
Outdated.
Embarrassing…
I look so young in these photographs. And naïve.
And full of hope.
Well. I’m not so full of hope anymore. This new, more mature Posey has a bit of an edge.
A bit of an edge? Ha.
Duke would laugh if he heard me saying that. The man probably has a motorcycle and a fancy sports car that cost more than this house I’m sleeping in, gives zero fucks about what anyone thinks, and can probably ride a bull.
Talk about having an edge.
I study my profile, deleting all but one of my photographs, and scrolling through my gallery for new, updated ones.
Brown hair.
Blue eyes.
More freckles than I can count.
I’m not tall, but I have nice boobs, so not without some attractive physical characteristics.
Now. What do I say about myself? This bio is much harder than I thought it would be to write, describing who I am and what I want in a life partner.
POSEY, 30
Looking for my best friend and companion.
Companion?
Lame.
Delete.
POSEY, 30
Molder of young minds.
Looking for my best friend. Love to travel.
Amateur baker, cannot cook.
Hate camping but don’t mind the outdoors.
Hate camping but don’t mind the outdoors? What a dumb thing to say.
Delete.
Hate camping but like to hike. Dog lover. Over packer.
Short but (mostly) sweet.
Sweet.
I haven’t been sweet at all since Duke’s been here, on edge the majority of the time, walking on eggshells, waiting to see what fire he’s going to start that I have to put out.
I should begin a countdown calendar for his departure and hang it in the kitchen.
POSEY, 30
Molder of young minds.
Looking for my best friend. Love to travel.
Amateur baker, cannot cook.
Hate camping but don’t mind the outdoors.
Hate camping but like to hike. Dog lover. Over packer.
Short but (mostly) sweet.
DO NOT SWIPE IF YOU’RE ONLY HERE TO BANG.
F Boys keep swiping.
Molly would be proud I added that last line; her take-no-shit attitude has finally rubbed off on me. Duke’s, too. Why should I be the only one always worrying about what everyone thinks of me? What good has that done me?
I’m single, living in a house my friend owns, that she’s moved out of because she took a chance on a man she never thought would be her type.
“Holy crap,” I whisper to no one.
It’s him, Duke.
Except he’s not using his name, which makes me laugh because he’s so recognizable.
The man is on a dating app, and he’s sleeping in the room next door.
What the bloody hell!
He’s not supposed to be seen, let alone on a damn dating app as if he were going to go out gallivanting.
Two weeks.
That’s all the time he has to behave.
I study his profile.
D, 24 -.03 miles away
Profession: Hammock Tester
Bio: Big dude who likes eating food (mostly BBQ) and chillin’. In town for a few days for work, just looking for friends.
Not looking for an LTR, so it doesn’t matter if you like dogs or cats or what your feet look like.
Eh?
It doesn’t matter what your feet look like?
Who the hell says that?
The whole bio is weird and has me laughing again. His photos are slightly blurry and super shitty, probably so no one recognizes him.
They’re old.
Definitely old.
No self-respecting woman would swipe on such a horrible bio.
I scrutinize his photos a little longer before moving on, entering my location and preferred distance, and begin the search, excited to see I get SEVEN FREE DAYS to see all the men who swipe on me before I swipe on them.
“Seriously?” I mutter. “I’ve been on this app a grand total of twenty minutes and already have fifty-eight people who liked me?”
Damn!
I scroll and scroll and scroll some more. Swipe on one guy who looks cute—glasses and a goofy grin—and scroll on.