Page 39 of Don't Go Breaking My Heart
I squirm.
He shrugs. “To be honest, I’m not sure. I haven’t…” He clears his throat. “It’s been a long time since I’ve dated and now the guys are riding my ass about it, so I figured I might as well check it out.”
He picks up his phone from the nightstand and taps it a few times, then turns the screen toward me.
“Behold,” he says, deadpan. “The worst dating app bio in the history of mankind.”
I squint at it, reading aloud. “Hockey player. Middle child. Likes pets. Currently trying to figure out what to do with too many expired HelloFresh meals in his freezer. Open to suggestions.” It’s not the worst biography I’ve read, if we’re being honest. “The good news is, you haven’t said anything about fishing or hunting.”
“I haven’t added photos yet.”
“Oh god.” I slap a hand dramatically over his forearm. “Please—on behalf of women everywhere—don’t add fish photos.”
“I’m trying to seem approachable.” He gestures at his general mass. “The size thing kind of works against me.”
Is he serious?
Women love big dudes. The taller the better. Did he not get the memo?
“You absolutelydocome off as approachable. But you also sound like someone’s divorced uncle who doesn’t grocery shop on a regular basis and only has butter in his fridge.”
No offense.
He winces. “That bad?”
“It’s humble butdeeplyunsexy. Which—congrats!—is really hard to do.”
He laughs and takes the phone back, shaking his head. “Okay, critic. What would you put?”
“I don’t know…” I cross my arms, pretending to consider. “Something like: Tall, dark, and emotionally available. Has a giant TV and knows how to use a washing machine.”
He raises an eyebrow. “You think putting ‘emotionally available’ in my dating bio is a good idea? Won’t that scare women off?”
No!
It won’t scare women off. It will attract them like bees on honey or flies on shit!
“Sure, it will scare the wrong people off,” I say. “And attract the right ones.” I select all the words in his bio and delete them, talking out loud as I type:Perpetual hockey bro. Own my own laundry basket. Will buy you coffee and listen to your podcast recommendations without judgment.Six foot plus something. Can reach the top shelf and carry your emotional baggage.”
There.
Turner doesn’t look convinced. “That’s what you think women want?”
“It’s whatIwant,” I blurt out. “And I can confidently say I speak for most women.”
Our eyes meet.
Silence stretches.
I notice he hasn’t shaved in a day or two, stubble beginning to fill in his face. The sexy five o’clock shadow—it’s the kind of rugged scruff that looks like it should be illegal on someone this wholesome.
The jawline is jaw-ing.
I toss the phone onto his stomach. “You’re welcome. You could add something about LEGOs too. Everyone’s into those right now,” I offer, reaching for the water glass I brought with me and pretend I’m not scrutinizing every sharp line of his face.
Turner nods, nibbling on his bottom lip.
He hums like he’s actually considering it. “How about… ‘Can build a replica castle by hand, but can’t figure out how to start a conversation on dating apps.’”
