Miles: Who’s better than me?
There was a paperclip at the bottom corner of the message, so I clicked to see the attachment. A photo of my best friend appeared on the screen—he was beaming, holding a pair of red mesh underwear that seemed to match my bra perfectly. I snorted.Only Miles.
Maybe he was right. Maybe I should’ve brought the red dress—though not to lure Brendan’s little brother. What I needed was astranger, a quick fling with someone who was good in bed.Greatin bed, even. My mind leaned into the idea. No-strings-attached, anonymous sex. No names, no numbers—hell, no faces would work at this point. It could be hot if he wore a mask. I just needed to have sex with six inches thatdidn’trequire batteries. Tonight, I was planning to go to a bar and not come home alone. I wasn’t sure why I hadn’t shared that tidbit with Miles. He’d been my best friend since elementary school and knew everything else about my life.
Aileen wheeled over the ice cream cart, interrupting my thoughts. I ordered vanilla with peanut butter sauce and chocolate chips, and it wasfreaking delicious. Devouring it, I decided maybe I shouldn’t object so much in the future when my mother wanted to throw her husband’s money around and spoil me.
There wasn’t enough time left on the flight for a second movie, so I opened the internet browser. Spooning the delicious sundae into my mouth, I checked my email, did the daily Wordle, and finally googledbest bar in Manhattan to meet a man for a one-night stand. I was pretty surprised how many hits came back, and not just your typical Reddit chats either. There were articles in legit magazines and entire websites dedicated to the subject. Yelp had aTop 10 Best Hookup Bars in NYClist. Too bad they didn’t have Yelp ratings for the men who frequented them. I clicked into one website that had a map of all the different neighborhoods of Manhattan, and each of those had a clickable list of bars. I double tapped into Gramercy Park and scanned the six places listed. Bullets underneath outlined the reasons each place was good tomeet someone. While I was reading the write-up of the last bar, an animated ad popped up showing a bird inside a cage. The door opened, and a bright red finch fluttered its wings and flew out. It was cute and colorful. Underneath read: NY Loves DARE—dating freedom.
Though I’d decided tonight was the night I was finally going to find a man, it had never crossed my mind to use a dating app. I’d joined a few after Brendan and I broke up, but something about the constant cut-and-paste introductions I’d received turned me off. Yet this one had me curious. So I clicked and read. DARE wasn’t your typical swipe-right-and-swipe-left-type deal where you judged people in two seconds based on their looks and a few sentences. Instead, you had to answer a ton of questions before your supposed matches were presented to you. Users didn’t even see photos until the matches had been selected. The site claimed to beultra exclusiveand charged a whopping $599 a year. Considering I was no longer employed, that price was too rich for my blood. So I clicked the X to close out of the site. But rather than shutting down, a banner flashed on the screen: Try free for five days.
Hmmm…What the heck? Why not? I had another hour to kill. It might be fun to see who a computer would pick as my perfect match. Lord knows I hadn’t had luck finding the guy on my own. So I clicked to redeem the offer and started entering some basic data. The first few questions were simple—age preference, type of looks and physique I was generally attracted to, religious beliefs, languages spoken, hobbies, rating the importance of salary and different values.
I was moving right along until the question about what I was looking for in a relationshipgave me pause. There were three choices to select from—a long-term partner, an occasional companion, or no strings attached. I knew the answer, yet it took me a full five minutes to find the courage to check the last box. I’d never had a fling. As I continued, the questions became more personal—did I like a dominant lover in the bedroom, was I open to multiple partners at once, and did pain turn me on. Let’s be real, I had no idea what I truly liked after wasting all those years with Brendan. Yet I chewed my lip, considering my answers anyway. Multiple partners at once? Definitely not. I wanted someone with more experience than I had, so a lover who took control sounded good—yes to dominant partner. And who knows, a little spanking might be fun. The rest of the questionnaire took another fifteen minutes, and by the time I was done and hit submit, I had to admit, I was a little excited. An hourglass appeared on the screen with sand falling from one globe to another. Eventually a message flashed.We’ve found your match.
Match? Just one? Not matches? Why did I think I was going to be given a smorgasbord of men to choose from? I’d wasted almost half an hour for one measly guy who was probably going to be creepy? I sighed, but clicked anyway since curiosity had already gotten the best of me. I was certain I was about to be shown some troll based on a dumb computer algorithm deciding who was my Mr. Right.
But the man whose photo appeared was most definitelynota troll.
Wow…just wow. This had to be an AI photo, right? Real men weren’t this beautiful, certainly not any of the ones I’d run into lately. I lifted my cell to my nose for a closer inspection. Pictures generated with AI, or ones that were heavily retouched, tended to be too smooth or overly blurry. They were also usually missing shadows, or the background lighting was unnaturally even. But this guy wasn’t like that at all. I could see the texture of his skin, the sexy stubble of his five o’clock shadow. The ocean was also in the background, and the water reflected the sun. Not to mention, different shades of blue and turquoise revealed the changes in depths beneath. I was almost certain the photo wasn’t generated by AI.
Jesus, that means this guy is actually real?
I scanned down to his short bio, assuming that was where I would find his blatant flaw, some big smoking gun. His hobbies probably include stalking his exes and poking dead things with a stick.
Though what I found made my jaw fall open.
Hobbies: Snowboarding, scuba diving, and travel.
Those were the same three things I’d written. Astounded, I kept reading. Jagger L.—even his name was sexy—had a well-written bio. It was personable, yet funny. In thelanguages fluentsection he’d written “sarcasm,” and in thelooking forsection he’d written “no strings attached, except the one you allow me to tie you up with.”
This guy seemed likeexactlywhat I was looking for—even more than I’d thought possible. But it couldn’t be this easy, could it? I was still mulling around the potential pitfalls—he’s a catfisher and using someone else’s photos, he’s made up everything in his bio. Or what if his profile isn’t even real—the company made it up to get people to pay their exorbitant $599 fee. That was probably it. The people at DARE dangle a seemingly amazing guy in front of your face for five days, and it’s onlyafterthat when Mr. Perfect responds and says he’s not interested.Yeah, that’s probably it.My eyes slanted to the message button. I was just about to type a short note, see if the guy wouldeven respond, when a chime sounded, alertingmeof an incoming message from my new match.
***
God, why didn’t I bring the stupid red dress? I looked in the mirror one last time. I looked nice, but not Jagger L. nice. That man was a dozen echelons up fromnice.Though I did look better than I had earlier. I’d blown out my long, chestnut hair and used a curling iron to style a few loose waves into it, swept eyeshadow across my lids that made my green eyes pop from my warm Italian skin, and lined my lips in a bold red. I had on a blue dress that wasn’t as dull as the brown one Miles had forbidden me to wear. This one hugged my curves nicely, but it was high necked and didn’t show any cleavage or anything. Though there wasn’t much I could do about that now. I was already going to be late to meet my perfect match by the time I grabbed a cab and got to the bar. So I took a deep breath, swiped my purse from the counter, and forced myself to walk out the door.
When I arrived, the Copa bar seemed pretty busy for a Thursday night, but what did I know? The last time I’d lived in this city, I wasn’t even legally allowed to drink. My heart raced as I scanned the room looking for my date, though part of me still doubted my perfect match would show. And if he did, I probably wouldn’t be able to find him since he likely looked nothing like the amazing photo in his profile. But then my eyes landed on a man seated at the corner of the bar, and my galloping heart came to an abrupt halt.
Holy. Freaking. Cow.He’s real.And the man might’ve been even better than his picture, if that were possible. My eyes met with Jagger’s, and his lips curved to a seductivesmile. He stood, but it took a few beats for my frazzled brain to get my feet to move. I somehow expected the sparkle of his looks to dim as I moved closer, but the exact opposite happened. His broad shoulders and custom three-piece suit hit every one of my hot buttons.
My date waited for me to make my way over, all the while keeping that delicious smile on his face. It was slightly crooked, considerably mischievous, and told me more about him than his bio already had. This man hadoodlesof confidence. At the risk of sounding like a sappy romance novel, I felt the air shift as I stood across from him.
He extended his hand, exposing a chunky watch and silver cufflinks, and I stared at his face, unable to form words. Or…apparently function at all. After an extended period of time with his arm outstretched, and me obviously incapable of completing basic etiquette tasks, he leaned forward and smirked.
“I don’t bite.” His deep, raspy voice lowered, and he winked. “Unless you want me to.”
I blinked a few times, finally managing to place my hand in his. “Sorry. I…I…it’s been a long day.”
I’d come for a hook-up, even checked the box that said as much, but suddenly I was a shy, nervous wreck. A man this spectacular had a lot of experience and probably wanted a woman with equal skills—which I didn’t have.
While I stood there drooling and acting like a complete idiot, my date seemed completely at ease. Jagger pulled out the chair next to him, and I miraculously managed to plant my ass on it without falling off. It seemed like a monumental accomplishment in the moment.
The bartender walked over and dropped a coaster on the bar in front of me. “What can I get you?”
Alcohol!Oh! Yes, yes, I definitely needed alcohol! Wine wasn’t strong enough to calm these nerves. “I’ll take a vodka cranberry, please.”
Jagger put his hand out. “Would you give us a moment before taking her order?”
