Page 7 of Biggest Player
“What I should do is give him a piece of my mind for wasting everyone’s time!” I announce to a room full of no one. “Then I’ll report the fake account!”
Yes!
That’s what I’ll do.
Swipe in the guise of science—see if we match, then chew his ass out for giving women false hope that they’re going to meet a player in the NFL.
With a knot forming in my tummy and a bag of mixed nerves from the impending excitement of catching a catfish, I swipe right, reminding myself not to be anxious.
“This is fun!” I chant. “Sofun!”
Plus, if this is a fake profile, I’ll never hear from him anyway, and even if I do hear back, that most likely means he’s a bot. Right?
Seconds pass.
They feel like minutes.
Hours.
I set the phone down and go to the sink, then stack the dirty plates neatly so Wyatt can load them into the dishwasher tomorrowafter school, then add the forks, spoons, and knives. I busy myself so I will not be tempted to fixate on my cell, putting it out of my mind so I can—
A notification pops up on my screen.You’re a match!
Hearts flutter, floating over my screen as if they were balloons being released into the air.
“Okay, pal, let’s see if you’re who you say you are.”
I’m not a detective, but I play one when I’m bored.
When no message instantaneously appears from Dex, I bite my lower lip.
“Sir, you are off the hook for having a life.”
It will have to be up to me to make the first move.
I hesitate before typing out a message, fingers hovering over the tiny keyboard.
What do I even say? Should I play it cool—or let my nerves show?
In the end, I settle for something simple yet playful.What do you think would get you laid more often: pretending to be a professional football player on a dating app, or being one in real life?
I hit send, immediately regretting the harsh tone of my first note. He’s never going to message me back when I sound like a bitter shrew! Ugh!
Why would he?
“So what!” I reason out loud. “He’s a liar!”
And I’m going to prove it.
He deserves the lashing I’m about to dish out, and nowheknows thatIknow he’s a liar, so perhaps he’ll delete his profile and create a new one.
None of this stops me from going back to studying his pictures. Why would a man who looked like him swipe on a woman like me? Why would a man who looked like him swipe on a single mother?
“Because he’s fake, Margot.”
He’s big—massive, some would say. I can tell because he is surrounded by a few other dudes and stands a head above all of them.
Bearded.
