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CHAPTER8
david
I’ve tossed and turned most of the night, so by the time I decide to finally get up and start doing things around the house, it doesn’t take me long to realize I feel more tired now than I did before I tried to go to sleep. I still haven’t heard anything from Tori—which is really starting to concern me—but thinking back to what happened in the mall, it’s really no surprise if she’s had a major setback again. Kyle’s cousin was way out of line and the insinuations were definitely uncalled for.
It’s not really my place to say anything, but I should’ve stepped up and said something to defend her. Tori didn’t deserve to be treated that way at all. She’s been through enough and doesn’t need go down that dark path again.
I pour myself a mug full of coffee and grab my phone. The sun is still a long way from coming up, and the dimness around the house is actually quite fitting for the mood I’m currently in. Being off these last few days hasn’t been all that thrilling, and I’ll actually be glad to go back into work again tomorrow morning. If nothing else, so I can get back to working out again.
The only time I’ve been on my phone was to check if Tori had reached out, so I’m not surprised to find that my notifications are out of control. I should delete them all—since I’m sure ninety-nine percent of them don’t pertain to anything important anyway—but I decide to check off each one just to be on the safe side.
‘Your profile has been saved on your Singles in Seattle account. Click the notification to see who has viewed your information.’
I reread the words one more time. Seriously, I’ve had this stupid account for years, and no one has ever bothered to save it before. I almost laugh at the absurdity of it. The only reason I created the thing in the first place was because the guys dared me to.
We were sitting around the station one night discussing relationships, and because I was the only one who didn’t have a significant other in their life, they all decided to pick on me about it. Thus, the account was created. I didn’t take any of it seriously at first—for one thing, I didn’t use an actual image of myself but rather an illustration of a fireman’s hat—so that alone wasn’t something that would attract very many views. Sure enough, less than a dozen or so people even took the time to read what I’d added about myself and that was pretty much the extent of it. A few days later, I’d lost interest in the account altogether.
Over the years, I’d have a random message left, but I never even bothered to read any of them. I simply wasn’t interested in hooking up with anyone this way. It was more or less created as a joke just so the guys—me included—could have a good laugh.
As I stare at the notification though, I can’t help but be curious about the person who took the time to save it. Hell, I don’t even remember half the stuff I filled out about myself.
Bored and with nothing better to do, I open the app and shake my head. I can’t believe I’m even doing this. It gets better, though. When I submit the payment to activate my account for thirty-days, I wonder if I’ve reached the point of desperation.
I spend the better part of the next hour updating my profile with somewhat accurate information but there’s no way I’m ready to submit an actual photo of myself. I’ll probably delete the entire account before it’s all said and done, so why not have a good time and play around with it.
I finally reach the section to view the individual that saved my profile. Their personal info is even more vague than mine, and it’s easy to see how reluctant they are to share certain information too.
I decide to reply to the message—to see if they’d be interested in a private chat. I’m not obligated to anything, so why not?
Rather than browse through my potential matches, I realize that sleep sounds a whole lot better. Besides, it’s not like I’m taking this profile thing seriously anyway, am I?
* * *
The next few days seem to pass in a blur. I knew picking up those extra shifts would be torturous—especially if we had a lot of calls—and sure enough, this is exactly what happened.
I don’t even bother to shower when we get back to the station after the latest call. Working a traffic accident is a little different than battling a fire, and though I’m still hot and sweaty by the time we get back, I can hold off until I get home. Don’t get me wrong, the station has a decent set of showers, but nothing beats coming home to use my own.
I don’t bother putting on anything except for my gray shorts when I’m done. They’re cool and quite comfortable for lounging around the house. I still haven’t heard anything from Tori, and now that the rain has finally moved out of here and the ground is no longer saturated, I make up my mind to pay her a visit in the morning. Well, her yard that is. If she comes outside to see me, then I’ll know she’s doing okay. But if she doesn’t…I’ll cross that bridge when I get to it. Hopefully, she’s just been busy and nothing else.
To be quite honest, I haven’t thought about the dating app until now. And while I’d like nothing more than to go to sleep, I’m curious to see ifWidowinWAhas had a chance to respond.
I’m a little shocked to find three messages waiting for me and I quickly read through them. I half expected to laugh at the reply—because these stupid sites really are a joke and I can’t believe I got suckered into joining—but instead, I find myself deeply concerned. Seems thatWidowinWAhas had a rough couple of days and finding out that I was interested in chatting somewhat lifted her spirits.
Her messages are quite lengthy actually, and I find myself struggling to find the right words to say. How do you console someone that you don’t know without it coming across the wrong way? Without it sending mixed signals?
