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)
“I can just unmatch him.” We all make mistakes. “This was obviously an accident and not the part of my subconscious that secretly finds him attractive.”
And now I’m talking to myself—again.
I stop swiping long enough to re-read the biographies and blurbs of the dudes I matched with, wondering and waiting to see who messages me first, racking my brain for a good opening line.
The last thing I want to open with is “Hey!” or “Hi!” or *wave emoji* Worst conversation starters ever.
My phone pings with a new notification: Drew has sent you a new message.
No, he did not.
Drew C: Hey there. You’re the same girl from the Mass Comm class, yeah?
I bite down on my bottom lip, debating. He doesn’t sound like an asshole, but I’ve seen firsthand what he’s like. No pleasant hello is going to convince me otherwise.
Still.
My nose goes up.
I scroll through his photos, frowning the entire time.
Him laughing in a plaid shirt. Him throwing a football—big deal. Him in a pair of swim trunks, dripping wet, standing on a pier at the lake.
Gag me.
Of course he would post a shirtless photo of himself. What an ego on this guy! Unbelievable…
I snort.
A thought suddenly occurs to me. What is a guy like him doing on a dating app?
Surely, he has girls beating down his door. Why would he need to use an app to find one?
I look at his bio, which I hadn’t looked at.
DREW, 21—.04 miles away
BIO Chem major. Likes long walks on the football field, hanging with my bros, comedies, movies, and burgers. Looking for my partner in crime. Fun Fact: I can tie a cherry stem with my tongue.
6’3” because apparently height matters.
I cannot roll my eyes back into my head far enough for my liking.
This guy is an idiot!
Drew C: Hey there.
Daisy: Yes, I’m the girl from your Mass Comm class, and NEWS FLASH, I am still not amused by you. I swiped on you BY ACCIDENT.
Drew C: Then why did you bother messaging me back?
Daisy: To let you know it was an ACCIDENT.
Drew C: You could have just deleted me.
Well, obviously. But for some reason, I want to have the last word with this guy so he knows there is at least one girl on this planet not falling at his feet.
We are not all fazed by his body, hair, or social status.
Daisy: Oh trust me, I plan on deleting you.
Drew C: But you had to come have the last word about it?
What is he, a mind reader or something?
So annoying.
Daisy: No, I don’t have to have the last word, but you messaged me, and I assumed that during our next class you would harass me about not messaging you back.
There. That sounds legit.
Drew C: Why don’t I believe you?
Daisy: **shrug** I don’t know—why don’t you believe me?
Drew C: I just don’t. You were mad as a wet hen in class, and if looks could kill, I’d be a dead man.
Daisy: Can I remind you that YOU are the one who swiped on ME?
Drew C: False. You swiped on me.
Daisy: You swiped on me first.
Drew C: Did this just become a dick-swinging contest? Because I can assure you, if it is, I will win.
Dick-swinging contest?
Gross.
Daisy: Obviously. You’re the only one here with a dick.
The app flags my message, asking me if I want to reconsider sending because of the profanity. I’m assuming it doesn’t like my use of the word dick, or maybe it thinks I’m asking for a picture of one?
“Yes, I want to send it! He said dick first! Did you flag his message? No.”
I hit send and off it goes into cyberspace.
Drew C: Obviously.
Daisy: Yeah, obviously **eye roll**
Drew C: Are you always this sarcastic?
No.
And I’m not always this rude, and I’m not always this combative, but something about this guy rubs me the wrong freaking way. He had no business messaging me in the first place, let alone swiping on me.
At least my swipe was by mistake. His was on purpose!
Daisy: No.
Drew C: Then why are you being a sarcastic asshole with me?
Daisy: Am I? I’m sorry I didn’t realize…
Drew C: There you go again.
Daisy: Oh, you caught that? ’Cause I was laying it on pretty thick.
Shit. I sound like a snarky brat.
What do you care how you sound? You’re not interested in this guy. You’re trying to get rid of him, remember?
Yes, I remember, but that doesn’t mean I want to be a jerk. It’s not in my nature, although I probably would describe myself as being independent, empowered—and strong-willed.
And apparently, I’m more sarcastic than I thought.
Drew Colter doesn’t reply for a few minutes, and I wonder if I’ve succeeded in scaring him off. What I should be doing is busying myself with checking the new messages I’ve gotten since we started chatting, but no, here I am, waiting for this asshole to message me back.