One
Eleanor
“You need to find yourself a man.”
I blink at my friend Kelsey, who’s slowly weaving back and forth in her seat, trying to point at me, but her arm wavers so it’s like she’s pointing at everything she sees.
I think she might be drunk.
“You need to find yourself a man,” I tell her, trying to hide the fact that I’m offended by keeping a neutral expression on my face.
But yes. I’m totally offended.
We’re at a local bar on a Saturday night, drowning our sorrows in booze after our friend Caroline’s bridal shower. Kelsey and I are the only single ones left from our friend group. All the rest of them went home to their boyfriends. Fiancés. Side pieces. Whatever you want to call them.
No, wait. None of our friends have side pieces. That’s such a gross term, so I’m taking it back. I know I would never be a man’s side piece. That implies I’m not even worthy of being his main piece, if you know what I mean.
Huh. Does that even make sense? I might be a little drunk too.
Milligan’s Pub is one of our favorite places to hang out, considering its central location. I can walk to the bar from my salon. I’m a hairstylist at Inspirations Salon and Day Spa in downtown Carmel. I’ve been there for seven years. It’s the first and only salon I’ve ever worked at, and it’s one of the most popular in the area. My mom worked there before me and got me the job. But she’s retired now, living in Florida with her husband, my stepdad. I see her twice a year if I’m lucky.
I really miss my mom.
“I think I found one,” Kelsey says, pulling me back to the here and now.
I frown at her. “You found what?”
“A man. Okay fine, I’ve found a couple, and we’ve started chatting.” Kelsey rolls her eyes and slaps her hand on the table, making our empty glasses rattle and me jump a little in my seat. “Keep up, lady! There’s a new app that I’ve been trying out since last night, and I like it. A lot.”
“A dating app?” I wrinkle my nose. That is not the way to find true love, if you ask me. Shouldn’t you meet your true love in person? Or have one of those cute accidental meetings? Like oops, you picked up my coffee order by mistake! Let’s swap drinks—and phone numbers.
Okay, look, I’ve had a few I want to meet my true love in the Sweet Dreams Café fantasies, okay? My friend Stella, who works there, would tell me I’m being ridiculous if she knew this fun little fact.
I can’t help that I’m a total romantic.
“Yes, a dating app. Don’t say it like it’s a dirty word. You should give it a try. I bet you’d find someone. In fact, I know you would.” Kelsey picks up her phone and starts tapping away. Her brows furrow in concentration. “How tall are you?”
“Um, five-four? Maybe five-five?” Why is she asking me this?
“Blonde hair. Hazel eyes, curvy.” Kelsey’s fingers are flying as she types. “Hairstylist to the stars.”
“Not quite,” I say.
“Close enough.” She shrugs before she starts tapping the screen again. “So…you have a positive attitude, you’re kind and thoughtful, and you’re looking for a man who can commit and isn’t afraid of making those big romantic gestures.”
Alarm rises in me, making my entire body go stiff as I watch her. “Wait a minute. What are you doing?”
“Nothing.” Her voice is deceptively innocent. She keeps her gaze fixed on the screen. I want to snatch that stupid phone out of her hands and see exactly what she’s putting together, but I restrain myself. Barely.
But after approximately one minute of restraining myself, I can’t take it anymore. “Kelsey.”
“Eleanor.” She’s still typing, a little smile curling her lips. “Oh, this is gonna be so good. You’ll thank me for this, I promise.”
Unable to stand it any longer, I grab the phone from her hands.
“Hey!” Kelsey glares at me, reaching over the table to take her phone back, but I turn away from her, holding it up in the air. “Give it back!”
“No way.” I keep my back to her as I study the screen. It’s a dating profile on what must be that new app she’s talking about: Rate A Date.
Huh.
The information is all about…me.
The profile pic is one of…me.
The user name is qtstylist926. September 26 is my birthday…
“Kelsey, this is a dating profile for me.” I turn to face her, my mouth hanging open in shock. Holy crap, I need to delete this. Stat. Beyond stat. Like yesterday stat. “What in the world did you do?”
“I did exactly what you just said. Created a profile for you, so you can be on this new dating site,” Kelsey explains, her eyes big, her gaze one of complete and utter innocence.
I’m not buying it. Not for one minute. In fact, I’m fuming mad.
Like, super angry.
Livid, even.
“Kelsey, I am livid.”
Isn’t that a great word? Livid? I never get a chance to use it, considering I’m not what I would call an angry person. I’m usually pretty positive.
“Why? Oh, come on,” Kelsey whines. “You need to give it a chance.”
I read over my info again, getting to the what I’m looking for section.
I’ve discovered that short-term relationships aren’t my thing. I’m an old-fashioned woman looking for a serious relationship. Are you willing to commit? Not afraid of big romantic gestures? Like to read, watch movies and take long walks on the beach? Then I’m your girl. It helps if you’re at least six-foot and physically fit, but still like to eat ice cream and pizza.
Kelsey’s not wrong with this description, but also, she made me sound kind of ridiculous.
“How do I delete this?” I click on the little gear symbol in the top right corner, see the words profile settings and select it.
“No way.” Kelsey snatches the phone out of my hands, smiling at me while I glare. “You’re not deleting it.”
“I don’t want to be on that app,” I tell her, stomping my foot. Considering how loud it currently is in this crowded bar, my stomping is completely ineffective.
“Come on, do it for me. Please?” Kelsey flashes me her puppy-dog eyes and bats her lashes. She’s annoyingly attractive. Plump lips and dark eyes and beautiful silky brown hair. She came into the salon once asking for highlights and I convinced her not to do it. Her hair is gorgeous as is. Instead, I applied a special gloss treatment that made her hair even shinier than usual.
“I don’t believe in dating sites,” I say primly, resting my clutched hands on the table. “Delete it.”
“Give it a month,” she says, sticking out her lower lip in a mock pout. “They let you use the site for free for the first thirty days.”
“No.”
“I’ll do it with you.”
“You were already doing it, whether I was on the app or not.”
She considers me for a moment, and I swear I can see her brain working, trying to come up with a convincing idea. “We could go on double dates together.”
Hmm. That’s not a bad idea. I say nothing, contemplating her offer.