“No, Selma.” My asshole friend spun, my phone in hand, and shuffled out the bathroom door, her fingers tapping a hundred words a second as she went. “Selma!”
She stopped dead in her tracks, turned to me in the middle of my studio apartment kitchen, and handed me the phone. “There.”
Her smile was big. I wanted to bitch-slap it off her face.
“What did you do?”
“Created your account, uploaded that pic. Now you’re ready to swipe your way to a lay, baby.”
“Jesus, Selma. Why are we friends?”
“Probably because I challenge your very boring and predictable nature.” She twirled a fresh curl at my temple. “And you love me.”
I only grunted in reply, my eyes focused on the screen, the first handsome candidate to show up on my phone. “I have no idea what I’m doing.”
“Swipe left. He looks like a businessman wannabe.”
“Wannabe? What are you, an expert at typing men on this thing?”
“Swipe enough.” She shrugged, peering over my shoulder to glance at the next potential date.
“Ew!” We both swiped left, clearing the older gentleman with the overgrown mustache off our screen.
“He’s not bad.” Selma paused on the third, tilting her head. “If you squint.”
I groaned, swiping left. Then left. Then another left.
“I’ve learned one thing from this app tonight,” I said.
“What’s that?” Selma was swiping left for me, the frown growing deeper with every swipe.
“That we’re surrounded by a million really creepy guys. It’s no wonder I haven’t found a date in ages.”
Selma nodded, taking in my words. “Maybe it’s time I move. When I visited my cousin in Denver, you should have seen the hot guys. Like, h-o-double-t hot.”
“Well, I’m deleting it. All that’s on here is mountain men and college guys looking to score more action. Not interested.”
“Wait, what about him?” She paused, thumb hovering over the handsome face lit with a one-sided cocky smile. His eyes were a clear shade of ocean blue, hair dark and a little mussed, with a dark smattering of sexy five-o’clock shadow across his angled jaw.
“Nuh-uh. He’s married.”
“What? No way! What makes you say that?” Selma squinted, as if trying to read the signals through the screen.
“Because no man that beautiful is still on the market at his age.”
“His age? He’s like thirty-five, tops,” she scoffed.
“Exactly. Married, divorced with kids, something.”
“Well, okay, then. What do you care? This is just a hookup anyway, remember? Not like you have to worry about him proposing on the first date or anything.”
“Selma…” I groaned, ready to swipe left on his gorgeous, smug ass.
“Nope.” Selma slid her thumb across my screen, swiping right. “Got him.”
She grinned up at me triumphantly.
“Oh my God, what are you doing!” I wiped left, left, up, across. “Where are the settings? Can I undo that right swipe?”
She laughed, walking back down the hall to the bathroom. “Nope. No undoing!”
I followed quickly on her heels, stopping right next to her in front of her post at the bathroom mirror. Just then, the little app chimed in my hand. An alert popped up that said a match was made.
Oh, shit.
“Oh, you are such an asshole, Selma Martinez.”
“You got a match! That means he likes you, too.” She nodded, taking every second of this painfully embarrassing moment in stride.
“That wasn’t even a good picture of me! I hate you.”
“Or you could say thank you.” She winked. “Now send that boy a message.”
“What? No way. I’m not interested. Maybe you should go out with him.”
“Nah, I’ll take one for the team. Your vag needs some love, and I think Mr. Sex right there is going to give it to you.”
“I’m not going.”
“You’re an idiot if you don’t.”
I nearly replied that she was an idiot for even downloading the app when another chime popped up.
New message alert.
“Oh Jesus.”
“Ooh, he’s really into you.” Selma snatched the phone from my hands and opened the message.
“Wait! Don’t answer it!”
“Too late, it already shows him that I’ve seen it—or you’ve seen it.” She waggled her eyebrows at me. “It says, Would love to meet tonight. I’ll just reply…” She started tapping at warp speed.
“No! No!” I yanked my phone from her. “Don’t reply.”
“Well, you have to. Otherwise, that would just be rude.”