Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 104745 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 524(@200wpm)___ 419(@250wpm)___ 349(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104745 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 524(@200wpm)___ 419(@250wpm)___ 349(@300wpm)
He coughs again, face still red from his last bout.
“Dude. Chill.”
“Why? Why would you do this to me?”
Isn’t it obvious? “Because I see how determined you are to find a girlfriend, but you’re so terrible at closin’ the deal. If I’m being real honest, you’re not great at pickin’ babes, either.”
“I’m not determined to find a girlfriend. Stop makin’ me sound desperate.”
“No one is implying that you’re desperate.” I stuff noodles into my mouth. “All I’m sayin’ is I see you trying really hard, and for whatever reason, you’re not, you know, having any success.”
“It’s a numbers game.”
Eh. “Or. You’re just asking out the wrong girls before knowin’ any actual information.” Hasn’t he ever heard of vetting a candidate first before climbing into bed with them? Or taking them out for dinner?
I might not be in a committed relationship, but I know a thing or two about the chicks I bang on the weekends. Their major, if they’re interested in a long-term relationship (hopefully not), if they’re over the age of eighteen, and whether or not they intend to stay for breakfast.
Ha!
My qualifications are obviously less involved than Drew’s, but that doesn’t mean I don’t do my homework.
“I know information.” He sets his plate on the counter behind him, appetite gone. “What do you even know about courtin’ a girl? You sleep with them, slap them on the ass, and send them out the door.”
“So? That doesn’t mean I can’t read people.”
See, that’s the truth of it. The reason I don’t settle down and haven’t found anyone—haven’t clicked—is ’cause not one girl I’ve met hasn’t wanted something from me. And I can smell the desperation and greed half a mile away. Long before they trail a long fingernail down my chest, I’ve sniffed that shit out.
Yes, I’ll still sleep with a gold-digger, but she will never meet our mama.
No fucking way.
“Do you trust me?” I ask my brother, knowing full well he does…mostly.
He nods. “Sort of.”
His honesty makes me chuckle. “Then what’s the worst thing that could happen?”
“I need to think about it.”
Think about it? “What’s there to think about?”
He puts a hand up. “Just don’t do anything until I’ve made up my mind. Just ’cause my date this afternoon didn’t go well doesn’t mean I don’t know what I’m doin’.”
Jeez, why’s he so stubborn?
“Fine. Think about it.”
He’ll think about it? Fine. In the meantime, I’m gonna do him a favor and create the dating profile. In the time it takes him to make up his mind, he’ll be well on his way to a few first dates with chicks I’ve already decided would be good matches for my bro.
What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.
And when I find him the girl of his dreams, he’ll be thanking me.
seven
daisy
Pro Tip: If you’re ever on a date having pizza and you don’t like the guy, cover your slice in garlic salt and tell him, “This is in case you were planning on kissing me later.”
I have four hundred and ninety-two matches.
Whoa.
I haven’t paid for the app, but I get the first seven days free and plan to take full advantage.
492 matches.
I’m impressed with myself!
I begin swiping.
Swipe left, left, right, left.
“No. No. God no…”
Off I go, reading and swiping, swiping and glancing at the ages, names, brief blurb at the top of the bio.
“Hmm.” I pause on the photo of a guy wearing glasses, arms around the neck of a black lab. “There is no way you’re over the age of eighteen.”
Swipe left.
Left.
I stop short on another guy who looks promising. He likes to read, travel, and his major is biochem, but he doesn’t go here. He was in town visiting a buddy.
Ugh. “Sorry, Mark, I’m not looking for a long-distance anything.”
Moving right along…
Ben, Brennan, Kevin, David.
No.
Stephan, yes.
Derek, Peter, Riley, no.
I’m on a roll now, finger fast and brain going a mile a minute.
“Greggory, yes.” Cutie.
Dylan, yes.
Drew, yes.
The words YOU ARE A MATCH! light up my screen, his face and mine make a collage.
Drew?
NO! WE ARE NOT A MATCH.
We are oil and water.
He is annoying and rude—I am serious and driven.
Drew WhatsHisFace that Isabelle was losing her mind over?
NO!
God no.
Ew.
“Shit!” Double dammit, I hadn’t meant to swipe on the asshole from my class! Crap, crap, CRAP! Ew, he’s going to think I have the hots for him. Lies! I detest him based on principle alone. “How do I reverse this?”
Shit crackers.
Calm down, Daisy. It’s just an app, not a marriage commitment. “Besides, he probably won’t even message me. Why would he swipe on me? He was glaring at me every time I turned around in my chair.”
True story. “Maybe he doesn’t recognize me since I was wearing a ball cap.”
I shake out my long hair. I’d pulled it back into a messy knot at my nape, but it’s turned to frizz in the humidity.