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)
Ben, no.
Aaron, no.
Josh, another Josh, Dylan, and Josh.
“What’s with all the Joshes?” I muse, not swiping on a single one of them.
More than one guy looks like he wants to hide me in his basement and put the lotion in the basket, and I shiver, imagining what a creepy date those would probably be.
Scroll.
Scroll.
Then…
I go back to that list of men who have already swiped on me to see if I missed anyone cute during my hunt, and see that familiar face again, heart racing.
Why would he swipe on me?
Why not just ignore me?
Is this a joke? Did he swipe on me so I’d know he knew I was on a dating app?
My face gets red with embarrassment.
He knows I’m on a dating app.
Shoot me now.
But he’s on the app too.
So? The man is the last person on the planet who needs a dating app to find women. Give me a break. He’s just wasting time.
But…
He did swipe on me.
What would be the harm in swiping back?
If only as a joke.
One… two…
On three, I squeeze my eyes shut—like a total idiot, chickenshit—and swipe right on Duke Colter, my screen lighting up with a blinding YOU HAVE A MATCH!
Oh God.
Why did I do that?
I kick my feet beneath the covers like a teenage girl who’s just been invited to the school dance by a cute boy, butterflies working overtime inside my stomach.
The app wants me to send Duke a message, even giving me several suggestions for opening lines, but there’s not a chance in hell I’m going to take the first leap. Not when I have no idea why he matched with me in the first place—no way.
So I move along, doing my best to slow my speeding heart, having to pee but not daring to go into the hall.
YOU HAVE A NEW MESSAGE FROM D.
I snicker, stomach roiling.
Shit.
I can’t look.
You have to look. I bet he says something stupid, and we’ll have a laugh, and that will be the end of it.
Ugh, fine.
Duke: Well, well, well—look what the cat dragged in…
I crack a smile.
Posey: They’ll let anyone on these apps these days, apparently.
Duke: Apparently. Who’d swipe on a dude who doesn’t give his name and uses blurry pictures LOL
Posey: I was bored. Cut me some slack. Plus, I obviously knew it was you. **rolling my eyes**
Duke: No man—at least 100 women have liked my profile, and my pictures are shitty.
Posey: Stop it, you’re joking. 100?
Posey: Your profile picture is horrible.
Duke: What? No, it isn’t!
Posey: It barely looks like you. Also, your bio says you didn’t mind what someone’s feet look like, which is asinine.
Duke: What’s wrong with saying I don’t care what her feet look like??? It’s the truth!
Posey: Nothing, it’s just weird. And now that you mention it, it actually makes you sound like you might have a foot fetish.
Duke: Fuck, I never thought of that.
A box pops up after his last message. It’s a warning from the dating app server: Are you sure you want to reply to this potentially offensive message?
Oh. It must be the use of profanity.
I click yes so we can move on with our conversation because I don’t care if he used the word fuck in a sentence. Big deal.
He’s entertaining.
Posey: I mean, some people are into feet.
Duke: I’m not.
Posey: Oh please, I saw you checking out my feet tonight when we were in the kitchen.
I one hundred percent did, though I would never say that to his face.
Duke: They’re hot pink. What was I supposed to be looking at?
Posey: All I’m saying is, you MIGHT have a foot fetish.
Duke: **ROLLING MY EYES**
Posey: You’re way too easy to tease, LOL
Duke: Moving right along to a new topic…
Duke: Have you swiped on anyone else tonight, or am I the only lucky guy?
Posey: Of course you’re NOT the only guy I’ve swiped on tonight. Please. Pfft, as if. I did just match with someone else, but I only just downloaded the app tonight.
Duke: You can’t just boost my ego by saying I’m the only one? Rude.
Posey: Oh come on, we both know you’re lying in bed on the other side of the wall swiping like a little maniac.
Duke: Yeah, I’m pretty bored.
Posey: Yes, I know, it’s soooo boring here.
Duke: You lock me in my room and feed me scraps.
Posey: We have about four hundred dollars’ worth of food jammed into my tiny fridge. I do NOT feed you scraps just because I refuse to be your personal chef while you’re here. You’re a grown-ass adult.
Duke: Excuse me while I update my profile and put “must be a good cook” and “must have painted toenails.”
Posey: You already have a cook; you don’t need another one.
Duke: Yeah, but he ain’t here. I gotta make do!
Posey: You don’t actually want to meet anyone and go on dates, do you? I might have to tell Eli you’re leaving the house to go on dates before the media finds you…