“Can’t wait.”
14
Leti
Three days later, I open the front door and my eyes fall on the giant three-ring binder before the person carrying it. That thing has to be at least three inches thick. I could successfully commit a homicide with it, though white is not a convenient color for a murder weapon.
“Can I use your wall?” Julian sidesteps me into the apartment before I have the chance to ask for an explanation. “I need a place to spread this out.” He indicates the could-be-weapon in his hands.
“What exactly is in there that requires wall space?”
“I printed out the profiles of all your matches,” he says casually, as if that is anywhere near a casual thing to say.
“I’m sorry, you didwhat?”
“Look.” He holds out the binder, opening it to the first tab (there aretabs!). “These are the profiles of everyone we swiped right on.” He flips to the next one. “These are our matches.” Dear god, there’s a third tab. “These are printouts of all the messages we’ve sent so far, along with my notes on how compatible I think you’d be. There’s some real potential here.”
“Wait a second, I only have five matches. Why did I see twoextra people in here? And how do you have all this printed out—” My eyes cut to him as it dawns on me, but he’s not looking me in the eye anymore. His guilty gaze trained on the floor is all the confirmation I need. “Julian. Did you…did youstealmy login info?!”
“‘Steal’ is a loaded word.” He sets the binder down on the coffee table. I narrow my eyes at him, because that’s not exactly a denial. “You forgot to log off your account on my phone. What was I supposed to do?”
“Julian.” I can’t tell if I’m surprised or angry or exasperated. All three, I decide. I think I’ll always be all three with him around.
His face reddens as he rubs the back of his neck. “I like to think of it as being proactive. But you’re right, I should’ve asked for your permission first.”
“Yeah, you should have.” I shake my head. “What the hell were you thinking?”
“The short answer is I was thinking it might speed up the process if I disregarded privacy laws until we met up again and I could show you what I found.” He rakes a hand through his hair. “But really, I was thinking of you.”
“Me?”
“Yeah, you,” he says. “What you would think of each profile I came across. What interests you had in common, how you’d look together. I even scripted a few first messages you can use to break the ice. Let me show you. Please.”
I try to stay mad, but I can’t quite hold on to the feeling. Even when I cross my arms over my chest, the only emotion left inside me is…curiosity. Is it his sheepish charm that makes me want to cave? Or the way he bulldozed his way into my life with all the warmth of a brilliant sunshine that makes me forget to be angry about the wreckage left in his wake? The wreckage he’ll make of me, the longer I let him into my life.
When I let out a sigh, it’s one of defeat. If I’m going to accept this, the least I can do is put up an exasperated front. “Fine.Show me the damn binder. But just know this incident will be going on your permanent record.”
A flicker of surprise crosses his features before it melts into a blinding smile. There’s a hint of amusement in his voice when he says, “Yes, ma’am.”
He rushes forward with the binder, handing it to me before entering my bedroom. I don’t even blink when he comes back with tape and thumbtacks. What’s a little more bulldozing at this point?
He’s my friend.
If he has to be anything to me, he suits as my friend. Regardless of the fact that he practically foisted himself on me. I keep my circles small as a rule, but maybe it wouldn’t be the worst idea in the world to open up that circle a little more. Let Julian in.
Friends.
I test the word in my mind, on my tongue as I mouth the word to myself. Let it fill the hollowness inside my chest. We can be friends.
We’ve only managed to move the couch out of the way when the front door swings open, revealing a confused Bella and hyperactive Mari. The former walks forward cautiously, as if coming home to a ransacked apartment. The latter immediately jumps up on the askew couch, which is half out on the balcony, half blocking the TV stand. That’s the way of kids Mari’s age. One day you’re driving them to the ER in a panic, the next they’re hopping onto the furniture good as new.
“What is going on? Oh—” Bella stops short when she notices Julian for the first time, currently standing on a stool and tacking faces to the wall. He gives a short wave before continuing what he’s doing. She turns back to me, a knowing smirk on her lips. “Care to tell me what’s going on here?”
I evaded her text about Julian and never got around to explaining thesituation in person when she got home from the ER. When I came out of my room for dinner, I found them asleep on the couch, Mari splayed out on top of her mother. I couldn’t avoid her questions for long, though. Yesterday she cornered me after work with a home-cooked meal and a glass of wine that smelled of deceit. I knew the display was too good to be true when she said I could only have a plate after an explanation.
“All part of the dating app takeover plan,” I tell her, squinting at the wall. “Who knew my love life needed this amount of work?”
“I did.” Her smirk is pure evil before her expression changes to bewilderment as she examines the chaos that is our living room again. “But I agree, this might be overkill even for you.”
