Page 29 of Falling for My Matchmaker

“And also why you’re definitely not the guy I’d sleep with on a third date.”

“Excellent. Boundaries already working.”

***

I wasn’t overthinking the mock third date.

I waspreparing. Like a professional.

I’d already put on fresh sheets. Not because anything was going to happen—obviously—but because old sheets felt...emotionally stale. You can’t confront your intimacy issues on wrinkled jersey cotton.

I’d shaved my legs. Again, not because I was expecting anything. But smooth skin made me feel grounded. Confident. Slippery with intention.

And yes, I’d chosen the black lace underwear.

It was comfortable. I’m allowed to have standards. Sexyandfunctional. Like a high-performance sports bra with trust issues.

“Are you seriously putting on matching lingerie for a fake date?” Lauren asked from the doorway, one eyebrow in a near-vertical climb.

“It’s not lingerie. It’s...underwar.”

She walked in. “Underwar?”

“Underwear,” I corrected, grabbing a pillowcase. “But battle-ready.”

Lauren flopped onto my bed, narrowly avoiding the pile of backup outfitsI’d rejected already.

“Let me get this straight,” she said. “You’re doing full glam, fresh sheets, perfume I recognize from your ex’s birthday dinner—andyou checked your condom drawer.”

I froze mid-spritz. “That was just to make sure I’m responsibly stocked. In case I need it for Brad. Later.”

“Oh right,” she said, dragging out the “right” like it was on trial. “Because Brad, who you’ve now kissed exactly once and described as ‘technically acceptable,’ is coming to pick you up for a third date that he won’t tell you the plan for.”

“Yes,” I said. “It’s a surprise.”

Lauren raised both eyebrows. “And surprises always end in separate hotel rooms?”

“He’s picking me up at seven. I’m not hosting. It’s not that kind of third date.”

“But you still changed your sheets?”

“Because I respect myself. And housekeeping is self-care.”

She stared at me.

“What?” I said.

“You’re staging your apartment like someone’s going to sleep here,” she said. “But it’s not for Brad. And it’s definitely notnotfor Nate.”

“He is gay!” I threw a towel at her.

Lauren caught it with zero effort, because of course she did. “Bisexuals exist, babe.”

“This one doesn’t,” I snapped, already halfway into the closet like I was being chased by my own logic. “Nate isnotattracted to me. Also, he’sdating someone. That guy Rob? Literal human wallpaper of masculine perfection? Nate brought him to the party.”

Lauren shrugged. “You sure Rob wasn’t just another client?”

“Rob said ‘date.’ Nate didn’t deny it.” I sighed.

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