"So, what now?" I ask, a little more intrigued by the idea. Maybe online dating isn't so bad. You sort of get to feel the person out first—a photo, a bio, maybe even a little conversation before the first date. That's not that horrible.
"Now, we search."
And the screen suddenly changes from my face to that of a relatively cute guy. Below his face is a green check or a red x. Before I even have a chance to read his profile, Bridget hits the x, shaking her head and muttering, "too jock."
Another image pops up of a different boy. And I suddenly realize what's happening. "Wait, so you just like, check yes or no? Pretty much entirely based on their photo? That's sort of horrible."
She ignores me. "Ooh, he's cute. Glasses, a little nerdy, but still sophisticated. I'm checking him."
"Wait!" I reach for my phone, but it's too late. The green check has been hit and his photo has disappeared into the void. "What did that just do? Did I ask him out? Isn't that, like, desperate or something?"
"Relax, he'll just get a notification that basically implies you're interested. And if he takes a look at your profile and likes what he sees, he'll send you a message to meet up."
"Hmm." I nod and lean back, letting Bridge continue to take the reins on this whole online experiment. She knows me better than I know myself, so really, she'll probably pick better guys for me than I would anyway. "This is way easier than I thought it would be."
"I told you."
But then my phone dings. And again. And a third time.
"What's happening?"
"Oh, nothing…" Bridget trails off, but I can't help but notice she is slowly pulling my phone farther and farther out of reach.
"Bridge, what's that noise?"
"Just guys responding."
Another ding. And another.
"Give me the phone!" I shout trying to yank it out of her grasp just as another ring chimes through. But her arms are longer than mine and she easily keeps it out of reach. "How many guys did you check?"
"Just two, the others are guys finding you."
I pause. Sit up. Guys are finding me? Guys are noticing me? They're singling me out based pretty much only on my photo? I mean, it's totally demeaning and a little gross, and I know it's really the pull of the bikini and not much else, but still. A sort of buoyant feeling trickles up my spine, puffing out my chest, bringing a slight smile to my lips.
Another ding.
My heart starts bubbling like champagne, fizzy and light. So what if it's the bikini photo? It's still me in the bikini, not some other person whose photo I stole. I feel pretty good right now. Confident, and dare I say, a little smug. "That's like seven guys."
"You know…" Bridget looks up from the search to meet my amazed gaze. "Guys hit on you all the time, it's not their fault that you tend to run away every time they say hello."
"I don’t run away," I grumble under my breath. I walk…quickly…
But Bridge won't let me off that easy. "You do too. Ollie, back me up on this."
He remains silent.
"Ollie?" Bridget says again.
"Wh—what?" He snaps to attention, pulled from a daze. Was he looking at my phone? For a moment, it looked like he was staring at my phone.
"Tell Skye that guys hit on her all the time."
He turns his eyes to me. They're sparkling with controlled laughter. "Guys hit on you all the time."
"And that she's just too nervous to take notice."
"And you're too nervous to take notice," he repeats, eyebrows raised in mock admonishment.
"And that she should try saying hello once in a while."
Now he's nodding his head, fighting back a grin. "And you should try saying hello once in a while."
"And that she's beautiful."
Ollie pauses. Swallowing. Humor gone. "You're beautiful."
Was his voice breathy or was that just in my head?
"And that your sister is your favorite person in the world." Bridget turns to me with a wink.
But Ollie just ignores her and stands up, pushing her legs off of his lap. "I'm going to start dinner. I bought supplies for dumplings, can you guys help me wrap them? I'll do the rest."
"Oh, so we're your sous-chefs now?" Bridget teases.
I interrupt before this carries on for too much longer—between the two of them it could be hours before I eat. And my stomach is already growling. "Yes, Ollie. We'll help."
He holds my gaze for a moment before disappearing into the kitchen. I stare a little too long at the spot where his face used to be, pulled away only when Bridget starts giggling in my ear.
"What?"
"Um…" she starts. "You need to read these yourself."
"Oh god, what now?" I ask, grabbing my phone and looking at the screen.
At first I don't notice what she's laughing at, but then it hits me. I race to click on the little envelope at the top of the screen, dread tightening into a deep, dark pit at the bottom of my stomach.
Your place or mine?
That's all the first message reads. Your place or mine!
Are you kidding me? Is that serious?
I'll choose neither, thank you very much.
I delete his chat from my phone, erasing it completely before I click on the next message from a different guy.
Sex?
And that's it.
Delete!
I click on the next, heart racing, vision turning the slightest hint of red.
Your gorgeous… Okay, well that one's not so bad, except for the incorrect grammar. Not ideal, but at least he was trying. I scroll down and read the second half of the message. I want to lick chocolate fudge off your body.
What the?
I mean, does someone actually think that is a good pick-up line? Or not even a pick-up line, but just an acceptable thing to say to a human being you've never even met before? Scratch that. Even if we had met, heck, even if we were dating, I'm not sure I'd ever want to hear that from someone. Ever.
I turn off my phone.
"Bridget, is this for real?"
She licks her lips, a sorry expression creeping onto her face. "Well, it's not the ideal first online dating experience. But, what's that saying? My mom always used to say it. You have to kiss a lot of frogs before you find your prince?"
I gawk. "Kiss a lot of frogs…?" I trail off, shaking my head. "He asked me to lick chocolate fudge off of him. Not just chocolate, but chocolate fudge!"
"What?" Ollie shouts from the kitchen. A moment later, his head pokes around the corner. "Who? What's going on? I'll be back in a second, wait for me before you guys say anything else."
I ignore him. "This isn't a dating app. This is a sex app! You put me on a sex app!"
"I didn't know that…" Bridget cringes. "I don't have a profile. I just have friends who use it. Ollie uses it!"
Speak of the devil.
At that moment, Ollie walks in with a bowl of dumpling stuffing and empty wrappers, ears perked to listen in on the conversation.
The perfect unsuspecting prey.
"You let her put me on a sex app!" I shout and jump off the couch, slapping him repeatedly in the arm—crush completely negated by the fury scalding my blood.
"Hey, watch the food." He swerves around me, almost dropping the bowl.
Just what I need right now—pork bits splattering all over my apartment—not. I drop back, still fuming, but calmed somewhat after my outburst.