Page 39 of The Comeback Summer

I nod, accepting my punishment—and the fact that I’ve got eleven more chances to find my sister herbeshert.

•••

I HAVE EVERYintention of going to sleep—but after I brush my teeth, wash my face, and climb into bed, I open the One+One app. Swiping left and right is more addicting than TikTok.

There are two new messages from guys I swiped right on earlier—one of them a six foot two lawyer. At least, he claims to be.

I study this guy, Brandon, and try to glean something from his picture. Is the sparkle in his eyes devious or enchanting? His smile sinister or sincere? It must be exhausting forHannah, being so suspicious of every person who crosses her path.

It should be easy enough to find out if this guy really is a lawyer, but I have no clue how my sister thinks I’m supposed to fact-check how tall a man is. Better to just assume they’re fibbing a bit. No one tells the full truth—men add inches to their height (and their length); women subtract digits from the scale and their age. It’s what people do. Just last month I rounded down a good twenty pounds when I went to renew my license.

I click on the possibly tall lawyer’s message.

BRANDONB:Wassup?

Oy.Do better, Brandon.

I close the message without responding.

The second message is from a guy named Adam. Out of the hundreds of profiles I’ve skimmed over the last few days, his stood out. He’s cute in that nerdy, Jewish-boy-next-door way, with curly brown hair, glasses, and a neatly trimmed beard. I swiped right even though he’s only five nine, which is shorter than Hannah’s requirements—especially if he rounded up—but his answers to the questions on his profile were so witty and charming I couldn’t help but like him.

For the question about the last place he traveled, Adam said wherever the last book he read was set. Automatic bonus points that he reads, and also, I completely agree! A good book can absolutely transport you to another place.

As far as his favorite night out, Adam wrote that he prefers a quiet night in with a bottle of good red wine and a dinner that he and his date cook together (he’ll do the dishes).After that he wrote something about trading favorite songs on the stereo and dancing in the living room. Total swoon—the date sounds like something ripped from the pages of a romance novel.

It also sounds like Hannah’s nightmare. At least for a first date.

I tap to read his message, hoping he has something more interesting than “hello.” I swear, these men have no imagination.

ADAMR:Hello

I frown, disappointed—until I read his second message, sent two minutes after the first one.

ADAMR:Sorry. I’m awful at opening lines—but I have to tell you, I’m excellent at opening jars.

This makes me laugh, but I’m not quite sure how to respond. I fluff up my pillows and settle back, trying to think what Helen Hoang or Jasmine Guillory would write if they were drafting a meet-cute between Adam and me.

Between Adam and Hannah.This is for Hannah, I remind myself.

I consider saying something about women being strong enough to open their own jars, thank you very much... but I don’t want to scare him away. I consider asking what kinds of jars he likes to open, but that’s lame. Although maybe that will get him talking about what he likes to cook...

HANNAHF:What was the last jar you opened?

I hit send, and before I can close out of the message, three dots appear. He’s online? At 11:11 on a Friday night? Forget that I am, too, but I wonder what that says about him.

ADAMR:Don’t judge me... but it was a jar of marinara sauce

He’s two for two with getting a laugh out of me. Which is good. Hannah likes funny guys; she was always laughing around Josh.

HANNAHF:Why would I judge you for that?

ADAMR:Because homemade sauce is so much better. But this was an emergency situation.

HANNAHF:Ahhh. A pasta emergency. Those can be very dangerous. I hope you’re okay.

ADAMR:Everyone survived

I wonder if “everyone” was him and another woman, someone else he met on the app.

---