Page 10 of Left on Read
Maybe drunk me had a point. Looking for my forever person was obviously a waste of time. Maybe I needed to get over my hangups and embrace hookup culture.
On a whim, and because I was still a bit salty from my last attempt at online dating, I downloaded the one dating app I hadn’t tried yet.
Singles was kind of like Grindr for straight people. It had the reputation as the app for finding a quick hookup. I had nothing against that for other people, but pair that with the relatively small number of queer men who used the app because we had our own versions, and I hadn’t bothered to download it.
It didn’t take me long to set up my profile, and less than ten minutes later, I was scrolling bios and swiping left.
When I was done with dinner, I grabbed my phone and settled on my couch. I wasn’t in the mood to grade papers yet. Might as well check a few more profiles and remind myself why I was going to die alone.
“Nope, nope. Nope. Ew, double nope for the fish pic,” I muttered, swiping left on every bio that popped up.
A photo appeared on my screen. My thumb froze as I zeroed in on it.
The guy in the photo was arguably one of the hottest men I’d ever seen. He was built like a Greek god with broad shoulders, a trim waist, thick legs, an actual six-pack, and arms that were corded with muscle and covered with ink.
Tattoos had always been my weakness. My older siblings used to tease me about my thing for bad boys, but show me a decently attractive guy with tattoos and a sharp jawline, and I was a puddle on the floor.
Tearing my eyes away from his rippling abs, I focused on the rest of the photo. He was wearing a flimsy-looking hard hat, what looked like a plastic tool belt, and was holding a hammer that was out of proportion with the rest of his outfit. He should have looked ridiculous, but he had such a gorgeous and bright smile that he came across as fun and playful instead of cringey or weird.
Normally I would automatically swipe left on anyone who looked like him. I knew my place in the dating hierarchy, and a guy like that was way out of my league.
Out of curiosity, I read his bio. River. Was that his real name or a nickname? I’d used my real name, but this app didn’t need any sort of verification, so I assumed that wasn’t typical of the people who used it.
He was twenty-four, worked as a laborer, and his bio was…strange.
“Got tools you don’t use? Swipe right to get them taken off your hands. Fair prices and public meetings are my jam.”
Was he actually looking to buy tools? Or was this one of those weird things people did to make their profiles stand out on the apps and hopefully get more swipes?
Biting my lip, I studied the photo. He didn’t look like a serial killer, and the thing about meeting in public was a green flag. But why was a guy on a hookup app looking for tools? Was tools a euphemism?
Feeling a bit sassy, I swiped right. It wasn’t like I’d see when he rejected me.
I waited for the next profile to load, but instead the image on my screen shimmered and his full bio, including the message option, was revealed.
“The hell?” I said to my phone. He’d already swiped right on me?
I took a closer look at his profile and the photos in his gallery. They were all like the first one. I smiled at his antics. This was a guy who didn’t take himself too seriously and could laugh at himself.
I wished I was like that.
Should I message him?
I had a pile of nearly new tools in my basement that were collecting dust. It wasn’t like I was ever going to use them.
With Ryan’s voice echoing in my mind, I opened the message option and typed out the first thing that popped into my head.
Hayden: Hi, not sure if you’re actually looking for tools, but I’ve got some for sale.
I sent the message before I could talk myself out of it or spend the next ten minutes editing the message and rewriting it a thousand times.
A little shiver of unease moved up my spine, spiking my anxiety. Yup, that was enough online dating for now. Time to grade papers and forget about the hot guy looking to buy some tools.
The ping of my phone startled me out of the daze I’d fallen into.
Curiously, I tilted my phone screen toward me from where it was resting on my desk. I had a notification from Singles? Who the hell was messaging me at nearly midnight on Friday?
As far as I knew, late-night messages usually meant a booty call, but I hadn’t talked to anyone on there yet and had only messaged the tool guy.