Not a single one.
Instead, I’m greeted with more photos of Luca on a beach oron a catamaran, laughing with his arm slung around Paulie Osborne—a famous comedian, of all people.
“Okay,what?” I mutter, flipping to the next photo.
There’s one of him in a flannel, holding a coffee cup during what looks like the holidays. A random mountain range looms out the living room window, majestic and snowy and gorgeous.
Then there’s Luca on a motorcycle, looking like he just strolled out of a movie set.
“Who the hell is this guy?” I ask no one, my voice dripping with suspicion.
I keep scrolling.
I’m so fascinated.
Him standing with two young women that resemble him—sisters? Cousins? Another photo of him snorkeling, his face half-hidden behind goggles and a snorkel tube.
And then there’s a selfie of him hiking with that black lab puppy he had six months ago—only now, the dog’s mostly grown, its floppy ears framing an adorably derpy face.
I set my phone down for a moment, rubbing my temples.
It doesn’t make sense. Luca’s life isn’t this…glamorous.Is it?I mean, he plays hockey, hangs out with my brother and his teammates, and from what I know—goes home and sleeps. None of this beach-and-motorcycle nonsense fits the image I have of him.
Unless…
I glance back at the screen, narrowing my eyes.
Could someone be pretending to be him? It wouldn’t be hard—there are hundreds of photos of him on the internet.
“What do you think, Gio?” I say to the dog, asking for his advice. “Is this him, or is someone out there pretending to be Luca freaking Babineaux?”
Gio yawns, showing off his tiny, uneven teeth, and turns his head away, clearly over my dramatics.
“Thanks for your input,” I mutter, picking my phone back up.
I hesitate, thumb hovering over the screen.
Do I swipe right and investigate? Or do I swipe left and pretend I never saw it?
Because if it’s him and we match…it’s going to be super awkward because that means he swiped right on me too.
But if it’s not him…it could behilarious.
I hold my breath.
Close my eyes.
Before I can stop myself, I swipe right, heart pounding for reasons I’d rather not analyze.
I toss my phone onto the coffee table like it’s made of lava and cross my arms.
“Oh my God!” NO, I DID NOT!
“No way he swipes back,” I reason aloud, sending those vibes into the universe.Oh my God this is so embarrassing! “There is no freaking way.”
A few seconds pass. Then my phone pings.
One new match!