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PROLOGUE—SLOANE

TWO YEARS AGO

Swipe. Swipe. Swipe.

“Oh, hello…” I muse. I’m not typically attracted to blond men, but I can definitely get past his hair color with those slutty little glasses. I click on his profile picture and begin reading aloud to myself.

Wyatt, 36

Event Planner

Los Angeles, CA

“Well, that certainly narrows it down. He could be anywhere from ten minutes to three hours away.”

I continue scrolling.

Height: 6’5”

Education: MBA

Assuming he’s not lying about his height, this seems promising. I can count on one hand how many dates I’ve been on where their stats were actually accurate.

Relationship goals: Long-term relationship

“Are you sure?” I laugh. They always say they want a relationship, but what they really mean is a long-term situationship.

Drinking: Occasional

Smoking: No

Exercise: Daily

I wince. While I walk daily, I don’t have time to be a gym rat. Hopefully that won’t be a dealbreaker.

Hobbies: Writing, reading (fiction and nonfiction)...

Clicking on the little ellipsis for more information, I accidentally swipe right on his profile. “Shit, shit, shit!” I scramble to figure out if there’s an undo button or a way to unswipe without looking like a total cunt. Alas, there is not.

Defeated, I slump back in my seat and toss my phone onto the armrest, only to startle when it vibrates. With one eye closed, I peek at the notification.

Rachid

Bitch, get cute. We’re going out tonight.

Blowing out a sigh of relief that it’s just my downstairs neighbor and not a message that I matched with the hot blond from the dating app, I type out a quick reply.

Hard pass.

Don’t make me come up there!

There’s $4 well drinks at Neptune tonight.

We’re too old to be drinking well drinks. Also, don’t you have a meeting with our sketch writers first thing in the morning?

Which is why we’re going to happy hour…

I get up to grab a probiotic soda from the fridge, and by the time I return to my seat, there are two new messages.