She grumbles before opening the app and finally depositing the phone into my hand. Only, she doesn’t remove her hand. Her brows crease as she flips my hand over and examines my knuckles. “Is that a tattoo?”
Should it concern me that her touch, even with her phone between our palms, is making my pulse jump? A finger traces the black lines on my middle finger, her touch causing goose bumps to erupt down my back. The circle is a recent addition I got once my principal told me the school was lax on teachers with visible ink. Not that a small tattoo on my finger is all that noticeable to a classroom of screen-addicted teenagers. The ones on my chest and abdomen are another story.
“Are you done yet?” I ask, trying to keep my expression bored. “Or would you like a tour?”
“A tour? What—” The question dies on her tongue when I raise a brow, and I take a moment to appreciate the way her cheeks turn tomato red as she imagines where else on my body there might be ink.
“No need for all that, sunshine boy,” she says, finally removing her hand from mine. “Go ahead.”
“Sunshine boy?” I bite my lip to hide the smile itching the corners of my mouth.
“Yeah, you can’t wear yellow around me and expect me not to notice.” She scrunches her nose as her eyes rake over my T-shirt with obvious disdain. “It’s pretty on par with your personality, though.”
I can’t help the grin that pulls up my mouth. “All right, let’s see what we’re working with.”
The first profile is of a blond twenty-eight-year-old posing with a fish, an immediate left swipe. The next two are also easy to reject, seeing as they’ve barely filled out the questions with more thanone- or two-word responses. Finally, I strike gold on the seventh profile with a hiker named Nathaniel who has some clever responses to the prompts that hint at an actual personality, which is more than the last few accounts have going for them. I swipe right.
“Wait—” She grips my arm as her phone lights up, but I’m not surprised when the screen announces she’s made a match. “Julian! I didn’t get a chance to finish reading his profile.”
The delicious, addictive warmth of her hand on my forearm is replaced with a sting as she swats at my arm. It shocks me more than it hurts, but I still let out an involuntary “Ow!”
“That didn’t even hurt you, drama queen.” She rolls her eyes before making a move to snatch the phone out of my hand. Luckily I’m faster than her as I bounce to my knees on the mattress and hold my arm out of reach. She rises after me, gripping my shirt in a fist with one hand as her other reaches for the phone. “Slow down, you could’ve matched me with a serial killer for all I know!”
“Do you trust me?” I rest a hand on her shoulder even as her grip on my collar never lets up. Those serious dark eyes cut into me like she can’t believe what she’s hearing.
“Are you kidding?”
“Fair point. We still don’t know each other that well yet,” I concede, even as my heart races beneath her fist. As it is, I’m having trouble prying my eyes away from her lips and up to her eyes. I’m surprised to realize she is too. Our faces are only a few inches apart, and we’re staring at each other’s mouths. It would be all too easy to close the space between our breaths and kiss her. My throat works on a swallow, and her molten eyes follow the movement. After a beat of trying and failing to get my breathing under control, I ask, “Can you try?”
Finally, her eyes flick up to meet mine. They’re still hazy, but I can practically see the wheels turning in her head as she stares upat me. Indecision wars in her expression as her mouth purses and her brows crease as she considers my question. It’s killing me, not knowing what she’s thinking. She could be realizing it was a mistake to let me this far into her life. Right as I’m sure she’s about to take it all back and ask me to leave, she takes a deep breath and gives a reluctant nod.
“Fine.” Leti clears her throat. “My love life is officially in your hands.”
12
Leti
By seven o’clock, I have five matches.
Five.
That’s four too many for this little experiment.
But Julian isn’t nearly as nonplussed as I am. He merely leans back against the headboard, wearing that smug smirk that has no business looking so good on him. It only grows when I can no longer contain my groan. I hate the way he seems to love tormenting me. It’s bad enough I thought about kissing him earlier. His hand holding my phone over our heads, my fist buried in his shirt, our eyes locked on each other’s mouths.
Stupid.
I swear, it took my brain an entire minute to buffer before I answered his question.Can you try?Try trustingJulian? A guy I barely know but somehow have already dated twice and let into my bedroom to take over my dating apps? I’m still not sure why I said yes. Or why it felt true the moment the word left my lips.
“Okay.” He sets down the phone and turns over to face me. “We’re off to a good start. I’ll let you pick who we message first.”
“And you’re sure these are people I’ll be interested in?” He barely let me read their profiles before swiping right. Fifteenminutes in, I got bored of staring over his shoulder and grabbed my laptop to start editing a video I have planned to go up next week.
“Not a hundred percent, but I figure this way you can tell me what you think of your matches this round and we can fine-tune the process for next time.”
“Next time?” I blink, trying to figure out why the thought of hanging out with him again isn’t immediately appalling. I figured this would be a one-time thing where I’d either miraculously find a match I liked or declare this afternoon a massive waste of time. At no point did I think we’d be making this a regular thing, but I should’ve known better.
“Before we get into the particulars, you might want to check your messages. You…got a text from Bella while I was swiping.” His cheeks redden as he hands my phone back. How uncharacteristic of him. Even the tips of his ears are pink.
