The walk home is peaceful. Seattle at night is all glowing windows and wet pavement. My boots splash through puddles and I don't even care. I've got a pocket full of filthy goals and just enough tequila in my system to believe I might actually accomplish some of them.
Mmm, a cinnamon roll would be excellent right about now.
In my apartment, I shake the rain off my pink shell jacket and put my boots on the rack by the door. Then I change into my favorite black yoga pants and an oversized Havoc hoodie. After pulling on my coziest socks, I smooth the list out on the kitchen counter. The ink has bled a little, but the words are still clear.
The Naughty Girl Scout List stares up at me, daring me to actually do something about it.
I think about all the years I spent making myself smaller for Enzo. Playing hostess. Laughing on cue. Pretending his constant absences didn't bother me. He called my degree a waste. Got me a part-time job where he could keep tabs on me. He might have loved me, but only the version that stayed quiet and useful.
Screw that.
My phone sits on the counter, the Twinge app I downloaded three weeks ago just sitting there. Unopened. Judging me for being a coward.
Well, not anymore.
I tap it open and spend a few minutes uploading photos and answering inane questions. Then I start swiping.
Faces blur past. Guys holding fish. Guys with dogs. Guys whose profiles mention craft beer and hiking like it's a personality. Honestly, I have no idea what my type even is. I was twenty when I started dating Enzo, completely dazzledby his looks and money and attention. I just said yes the first time he asked me out and didn't question it for six years.
So now what? I swipe almost indiscriminately. Tall, short, whatever. Photos of abs. Photos of travel. Photos that are definitely someone else's photos.
Then I stop. One profile catches my eye. Grainy photo from the neck down showing a truly impressive number of abs. The next is a blurry shot of a tall guy on a plane, staring out the window. The caption reads, "Seems like I'm always at an airport."
About to swipe left, I catch the profile bio.
Don't like small talk. Just looking until I'm not. Numbers make more sense than people.
Weird. Blunt. This is probably a bot trying to scam me.
I look at the abs photo one more time and think,screw it. My hormones can make this decision.
I swipe right.
The app pings immediately.A new match!
My heart jumps. I tell myself it doesn't matter, but I open the message anyway.
StatMan12
You don't look like you belong here.
I stare at it. Rude. Presumptuous. Somehow, it’s exactly what I needed.
Yoga4Lyfe
And yet you messaged me first.
He's online, because he writes back in under a minute.
StatMan12
Exactly.
Heat skims under my skin. Not fear or obligation. Something wilder.
Another message appears. Then another. The conversation flows easy and sharp. He's not trying to be nice or asking me to take care of him. He's just... talking to me like I'm interesting.
The rain taps against my window. My phone lights the dark kitchen with squares of possibility.
