My stomach dropped. “Absolutely not.”
She stared at me. “You have to put at least one, or no one will match with you.”
“Perfect,” I said.
“Emma.” She dragged my name out. “Come on. You look gorgeous in half of these.”
“Half?”
She grinned, tilting the screen toward me. “What about this one?”
The photo was from last summer—her in a coral bikini, all sun and sparkle; me beside her in black.
The memory surfaced—warm sand, the rare weightlessness of that afternoon. But the photo only captured a smile that stopped at my mouth and a collection of chins the camera insisted on preserving.
Ugly.
Fat.
Disgusting.
“I’d rather die.” A brittle smile stepped in to cover the flinch.
Her brow furrowed. “Why? You look incredible.”
“It’s too much,” I said, the deflection thinning.
“I’m doing it anyway.”
“I’ll stab you in your sleep if you put that photo online,” I shot back, only half joking.
“Nice,” she said. “Waiting until I’m asleep. You really must feel bad for me.”
We cracked then—laughter breaking loose, raw and unguarded, spilling out in a way that felt more honest than anything else that night.
“Fine. What about this one?” She swiped. A close-up—collarbone up. Flattering. Still too exposed.
“I don’t want my face out there,” I said. “Not on a dating site.” A pause. The knot formed low and unwelcome. “What if someone from work sees it? That would get… messy.”
Candace rolled her eyes. “Fine.” Her thumbs flew in practiced flicks. “How about now?”
She turned the phone toward me again.
Same photo. Different version.
“I went for an artsy vibe,” she said. “It fits your personality. Plus, it makes you mysterious.” She winked.
My mouth betrayed me. “You’re insufferable.”
“And yet,” she said lightly, “you love me.”
When she held up the finished profile—a version of me I barely recognized—I didn’t know whether to laugh or hide. The woman on the screen looked gentler. Softer. Less braced for impact. I tried to imagine how someone like that moved through a world like mine.
Then I saw the name.
“Don’t worry.” She rolled her eyes. “I didn’t use your actual one. JustE.I know better.”
A stiff curve tugged at my mouth, loosening the knot a fraction as she handed my phone back.
