Page 45 of Mine Again

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I laugh. Out loud.

God help me, I’d swipe right on that so fast I’d sprain my wrist. Not that I’d get the bonus points. I can’t drive, let alone parallel park.

I glance back at my profile attempt.

It’s still not right.

Sebastian’s really is the bar.

He’d be the kind of man who wouldn’t flinch at complicated. Who wouldn’t need me to smile all the time. Who wouldn’t mistake silence for weakness?

So, I mirror it. Not copy. Mirror.

This is still me, after all.

Isabella, 22, knows when to speak, when to disappear, and how to win a card game without letting you realize you’re losing.

Recovering perfectionist with a habit of overthinking and an eye-roll so sharp I had to register it as a weapon.

Loyal beyond reason. If I care about you, you’ll never doubt it. If I don’t… you’ll wish I did.

Enjoys, as previously mentioned, card games with the people she trusts most, lemon trees in bloom, and quiet company that doesn’t demand or perform.

Turn-offs: liars, inflated egos, and men who call women “baby.”

Looking for someone real. Bonus points if you listen more than you talk and can shuffle a card deck properly.

I read it back.

It’s weird. It’s honest. It’s… me.

And strangely, it doesn’t seem so terrifying.

It’s like a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding.

I hit save.

Then, I immediately second-guess everything.

Too intense? Too dry? Too much?

I picture Sebastian again. That quiet, intense look of his. And I know, if someone reads this and runs, they were never meant to be mine anyway.

So screw it.

Just as I hover over the “log out” button, the screen flickers.

New message.

Already?

It’s either a bot or a man who didn’t read a single word of my profile.

But curiosity gets the better of me, and I click.

From: CardCounter42

Subject: Can you teach me that disappearing trick?

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