Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 91065 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 455(@200wpm)___ 364(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91065 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 455(@200wpm)___ 364(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
I don’t point out to Margot that on a whim I could close my eyes and run a finger down the list in my phone, text any number of the contacts, and have a girl down on her knees within ten minutes. Twenty if there’s too much traffic.
Me:
I’m not the cleat chaser here, sweetie.
Margot:
Don’t call me sweetie. You don’t know me.
Well.
This isn’t going well.
In fact, I’m beginning to miss Claire.
I take several seconds to exit the chat to give Margot’s profile a glance, something I probably should have done before messaging her back in the first place.
Margot, 29
Single mom.
Fun professional who loves adventure. Date nights.
Spontaneous weekends, board games.
Loves: trying new food and restaurants.
I am on the short side, but sweet.
You: someone with their shit together—please know what you want!
Single mom?
Like—an actual mom? This means she has children, yeah?
Yikes.
Kids = do not pass go.
Do not advance to the next round.
Seriously. How many kids does this mom have? Her bio doesn’t say, and in my opinion, that’s need-to-know information.
Me:
Listen, babe. You’re a great-looking woman. I’m sure you’re a nice person and a lot of fun, but I’m not looking to be a stepdad any time soon.
I hit send, satisfied she’ll be grateful I’m letting her down gently—not to mention, I’m being straight up and honest with her. No bullshit here, thankyouverymuch.
She’s going to eat that shit up.
Margot:
Wow. I didn’t Ask if you wanted to be a stepdad.
Okay. So she doesn’t exactly sound thrilled with my candor.
Margot:
And don’t call me babe.
Me:
I’m simply responding to the information you have in your bio. Chill out. You don’t have to get salty with me.
I learned the phrase don’t get salty from one of the rookies on our team. The cocky little prick had the gall to say those words to my face after he’d taken the last flavor of Powerade I wanted from the locker-room fridge.
Been using it since whenever it suits my fancy.
Ha!
Margot:
Chill out? That’s a good one. A man with a Fake account, using Fake photos of some famous football player, telling me to Chill Out. Don’t make me laugh.
I doubt very much that Margot is at home laughing.
Me:
You can stop coming at me with those harsh, all-caps words, K?
Margot:
You are a catfish! Why should I give a crap whether or not you’re sensitive to my “harsh words?”
I sink farther into my pillows, luxuriating in their softness and staring at my cell phone screen because it is the most interesting thing in my bedroom at the moment.
This broad is on a bender, and I have no idea what has gotten her all worked up. Was it me?
Me:
Was it something I said?
Margot:
OMG. I can’t believe I’m still wasting time talking to you.
Me:
Your bio says you’re short but Sweet! You’re the one who’s full of shit! You are anything But sweet.
I use all caps sporadically, mirroring her vibe.
Margot:
How about we just stop talking altogether—I do not need to defend myself to you!!!!
Me:
Nor I to you.
“Nor I to you,” I repeat, laughing when I type out that sentence.
“How proper do I sound?”
I give my nut sac a scratch, spreading my legs a bit to give my balls more air, wishing I had crackers or something crunchy to snack on.
Margot:
Great. Have a nice night.
Me:
Good luck with your search.
Margot:
Yeah, you too. You’re going to need it after I report your profile for being fake.
Me:
To clarify, based on your personality, you’re going to need all the luck you can get.
I smirk, firing off that last message.
My agent is always saying things like to clarify, and I dig how those words look in a written sentence. It makes me feel smart and stuff.
Then, as I prepare another message to Margot, grin spreading my mouth, her profile disappears completely.
Poof.
Gone as quickly as it had taken me to swipe on her.
For several seconds, I feel an odd disappointment settle in the pit of my stomach—a disappointment that should not be there. Margot is a nobody to me. A stranger. A single mom.
But damn I enjoyed sparring with her.
Is that wrong to say?
Our banter was fun, in a weird way, though it appears Margot didn’t feel the same and wasn’t willing to stick out the conversation. Good riddance.
I yawn, bored now that Margot has given me the axe.
Rude of her to delete me without saying goodbye, don’t you think?
“Dating apps suck,” I gripe, making a mental note to complain to Harlow, too, since this is her doing.
I exit the app and plug in my cell to charge, abandoning my efforts for the remainder of the night, and within minutes, I’m asleep, Landon’s advice to use a fake profile ringing in my ears.
Chapter 4
Margot
I may be an adult, but that doesn’t mean I don’t love letting my parents take me to dinner and treat me to a free meal.
A nice meal at that.
I lean back in my chair so the server can set the plate in front of me, smiling and thanking her once she’s through placing it, adjusting the white linen napkin on my lap.