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“I don’thatethem—” Suddenly, I feel like I need another margarita. “I just can’t imagine going out on a date with any of them.”
“Okay, well—” Maggie swipes past a couple more guys that are obviously a no before stopping and tilting the screen towards me. “What about him?”
The guy on the screen is undeniably handsome, a little rugged with his short-trimmed beard and dark hair, in a button-down open at the neck.Nickis his name, apparently, and he’s twenty-four, which isn’tthatmuch older than me. I hesitate, and Maggie glances at me.
“You’re not signing a contract in blood to go on a date with this guy, Sash,” she says gently. “Just showing a little interest.”
I swallow hard. “Okay,” I tell her. “Swipe right.”
All the women explode in happy hoots and cheers, and I flush as Maggie grins, swiping right on Nick. With that first hurdle overcome, I feel a little better overall, and I’m able to enjoy the game a bit more, commenting on what I like and don’t as we swipe left on most of the guys. By the time we’re all starting to wind down, we’ve swiped right on three more, which I feel like is more than enough.
“You’re gonna wake up with a full inbox,” Sofia says with a laugh, and Maggie lets out a chuckle.
“And something else full before too long, if she’s lucky.” She gives me a lewd, drunken wink, and I turn bright red.
“Okay, okay,” Caterina says, snatching my phone out of Maggie’s hand and giving it back to me. “Let’s give Sasha a break. We should probably start cleaning up anyway. I think we’re out of tequila.”
We’d demolished both the spread of food and the alcohol, and all of us are thoroughly drunk. I stumble up to my room after we say our goodnights, my head spinning a little. I open Tinder again as I change into my pajamas and flop back onto my bed, looking at the four guys we’d swiped right on again.
They’re all handsome, they all look interesting enough, and they’re all only a few years older than me. But no matter how many times I scroll through their profiles, all I feel is a cold knot of fear in my stomach when I think about going on a date with any of them. Not because I think any of them would hurt me, but because I can’t imagine what we’d talk about. I don’t know how I’d carry a conversation about finance, or surfing, or pets, or skiing. If any of them ask about my past—which a good dateshoulddo—or what I’ve been doing with my life for the last few years, all I have are either vague answers or extremely depressing ones. If they ask what Iwantto do, I don’t have answers at all.
I don’t think I’m in a place to date yet,I think, as I close the app. I know everyone else, my therapist included, thinks it’s just an excuse, but I don’t feel like I have anything to offer anyone—and I don’t even really know what I want.
The only man who makes me feel differently is Max.
The moment he pops into my head, I can’t shake him loose. I lie there, remembering running into him in the garden, how good he’d smelled, how close he’d been standing to me, and my heart races. I miss him suddenly, with a deep ferocity that I know isn’t entirely rational, and I’m just drunk enough to do the one thing I know I absolutely shouldn’t do.
I open my phone to his contact and send him a text.
Hey. Are you still awake?
His response comes a few minutes later, just as I’m starting to think it might have been a bad idea—that he might be upset I texted him out of nowhere.
I am. Are you alright?
Something about the fact that his first thought was to make sure I’m okay makes me feel warm and fuzzy down to my core, for reasons that have nothing to do with how much I’ve drank. I type back quickly, feeling my pulse leap a little.
I am. At the McGregor estate.I hesitate and then keep typing.Saoirse threw a party.
A few seconds pass, and then I see him starting to respond.
A party? One of those stuffy networking events, hm?
I laugh, covering my mouth to muffle the sound as I quickly type back.No, not at all. A girls’ night. Lots of margaritas.
This time, I know his hesitation in responding is on purpose.Did you have a good time?
Yeah. Maggie was there too. She talked me into downloading a dating app.
I stare at my phone for a second after sending the message, my heart climbing into my throat. I don’t know why I told him that. I hadn’t really meant to make him jealous—if I even could—but for some reason, I’d thought it was a good idea.I shouldn’t have done this,I think, feeling a little panicky.Texting him was a bad idea.
The last thing I want is to ruin my friendship with Max. But I can’t seem to let it just be only that.
10
MAX
Idon’t really know what to feel, looking at Sasha’s last text. I’ve never known Sasha to be the kind of person who would try to make me jealous—or even that she would have any reason to know shecouldmake me jealous—but looking at the text again, that’s all I feel.
