I smile sweetly. “Occupational hazard. I’m stuck working with you.”
“That goes both ways.”
The microwave beeps. He doesn’t move. Neither do I.
“I believe that’s my lunch,” I say.
He finally steps back, raising his hands in mock surrender. “After you.”
I brush past him to retrieve my food, and I’m painfully aware of how close he is—how the space between us feels charged instead of empty. When I turn back, he’s still standing there.
“You know,” he murmurs, “for someone who claims to find me unbearable, you sure like picking fights.”
I lift a brow. “And for someone who acts like he can’t stand me, you sure seem eager to engage.”
For half a second, something unreadable flickers in his eyes. Then it’s gone, replaced by that smug, infuriating calm.
“Enjoy your lunch,” he says coolly. “Try not to choke on the tension.”
I snort. “Trust me, David, I’ve survived far worse than you.”
I walk out with my food, fully aware of his gaze following me—and even more aware that neither of us won that round.
Once I’m back at my desk with my food in hand, my phone goes off with a text from Joey, asking if I got the link from Donny. I respond, acknowledging that I did, then sit back to open the app, forgetting that I never finished setting up the account this morning after I downloaded it.
Before Joey first mentioned his idea, I never even thought about doing a dating app. If I’m honest, it still kind of freaks me out, meeting complete strangers this way, but I want to help Joey, so I do the unthinkable and click the button to create an account.
In an effort to prevent people from catfishing or lying about who they are, the app makes you upload a picture of your ID to prove you look like the photo you are using as your profile and your name is actually what you say it is.
I know my first name isn’t that unique, but it’s also not super popular. I worry about using my real name, just in case it’s someone I know, so I put in the app that I go by my middle name Jenelle to keep it a little more incognito. Since Jenelle is indeed on my ID, the app accepts it with no problem.
It asks simple questions, like what I do for a living, my age, hobbies, and things like that. It will use my location to decide which guys to show my friends as potential matches, so the only thing left to do is assign which friends I trust to set me up on dates. Turns out, I’m the last to sign up, so Macy, Chasity, and Candace are already there, asking for my approval. I give them access, and within a few minutes, I get the ding of approval that I’ve completed my account setup.
I click the button to show me the male options and am instantly impressed at how clean and interactive the app is. As someone who does this for a living, I’d say they are spot-on with their design and use.
On my right are three circles, and each circle contains a picture of one of my friends. Then, filling my screen, is a guy who I have to admit isn’t too bad-looking. Since this is my first time playing matchmaker, it explains to me how I can click on the photo and simply drag it to the friend I think would be into him. He does look like a guy Macy dated in the past, so to test the app, I hold down the photo and slide it over to Macy’s photo, where it displays a little heart to acknowledge my suggestion.
This makes me smile, so I swipe through some other guys, suggesting a few more, and swiping left on others I don’t think anyone would be interested in before closing the app and getting back to my lunch.
The day flies by, and I totally lose track of time until David walks up to my desk.
“You ready? I’d like to get this over with so we can actually get out of here on time.”
“I’d ask if you had a hot date, but, one, I don’t care to know about your personal life, and, two, I don’t think anyone would actually want to date you, so I know that couldn’t be the case.”
“Ouch. That hurts,” he states with zero emotion. “Can we meet now that you’ve wounded my soul with your hateful words?”
I glare at him, but he just smirks before leaving. When Jana chuckles under her breath, I turn my expression to her.
“Have fun,” she singsongs.
I flip her off, making her laugh even harder as I walk toward the conference table with all of my drawings.
David and I take a seat across from each other, where I lay out my drawings while he opens his laptop.
“Okay,” he starts. “I did some more research on the company and actually spoke to Samantha, the owner, so I could get more of a feel for what they are looking for and who they are.”
I pop my head up, surprised. “You did? How?”
