Skyler’s a fucking genius.
Wilder’s place is the definition of a bachelor pad - old leather couch and not much else furniture-wise, piles of laundry around the floor, empty beer bottles sitting on the counter in the kitchen, and take-out boxes stuffed into the trash can.
“What kind of app?” Wilder asks without taking his eyes off the game.
I hesitate a moment before admitting, “It’s, uh, a dating app. It’s called Cloak.”
Jayce furrows his brow. “I’ve heard of that one. It’s like anonymous dating or something, right? LikeLove is Blind?”
“Yep,” I nod, executing a quick combo move in the game to score a goal while Jayce is distracted.
“Fuck!” Jayce exclaims.
“So, what?” Wilder questions with his usual stoic tone. “You talk to girls without knowing anything real about them? Seems counterproductive.”
“Big guy’s got a point,” Jayce says with a nod. “What makes you think you won’t end up meeting a serial killer? Or some chick who wants you to join her cult? Or, worse… her MLM?”
“Okay, calm down. The idea is to get to know someone on a deeper level without knowing what they look like so you’re not biased by appearance,” I explain, as if I’ve become a spokesman for the freaking app.
“And how’s that going?” Wilder asks with a grunt, his eyes never leaving the game.
“Not great,” I grumble. “I don’t get it. So far, my conversations have all sucked, but the profiles I’ve reached out to seem to have a lot in common with me. You’d think that’d mean we’d be a good fit, but lots of the conversations are either trolls or just… boring.”
Jayce laughs and shakes his head. “You mean trying to chat up your clone isn’t working?”
I frown. “What do you mean?”
“Jayce’s right,” Wilder says matter-of-factly. “Why would you ever think it’s interesting talking to someone who’s like you? Try to find someone who’s completely different, now that is something that would spark a relationship.”
I sit back, my mind a little blown. “Huh… I didn’t think of that.”
“Don’t worry, bro,” Jayce chuckles. “That’s why you’ve got us. We’re here to do your thinking for you.”
He’s joking, but honestly, now I’m thinking that I should approach the app in a completely different way. Not be so obsessed with compatibility, and reach out to girls myself instead of waiting for the pings.
Okay… maybe I won’t give up on the app quite yet.
Suddenly, Wilder shoots a puck into my team’s goal.
“Fuck!” I exclaim.
It’s almost two in the morning by the time I make my way back to the apartment. After playing a bit longer at Wilder’s, we ventured out to a nearby bar, and so I’m a little buzzed as I ride the elevator up to my floor. A mistake, because I know I’m going to feel this at practice tomorrow. Dumb, dumb, dummy. Coach is going to rip me a new asshole.
Making my way down the hall, I dig out my keys as I draw near the door.
I can’t wait to collapse into bed and sleep until noon. A pure fantasy, though, since I have practice tomorrow…
The moment I open the door, something small, furry, and demon-like shoots out of the apartment and attacks my leg with a vicious hiss.
I scream - unfortunately, like a high-pitched girl, but fear does crazy things to a man - and bolt into the apartment to try and get away from the tiny demon clawing at my calves. My foot catches on the rug just inside the door and I go flying to the floor.
“Fuck!” I shout, the gremlin pouncing on me before I can get away. I scream again, and hear footsteps rushing down the hall from the bedroom. I see a flash of blonde hair, and meet startled moss green eyes that are all too familiar.
Rylee is standing over me, holding a lamp over her head, and the world seems to freeze as I gawk up at her in shock.
CHAPTER SEVEN: ROOMMATES
RYLEE
