Page 47 of Fighting Mr. Knight

Tattoos.

Nipple ring.

Dark hair in topknot.

Permanent grin that you want to wipe off his face.

Excessively overgrown penis.

Reminds me of alpha wolf Caleb fromthe Red Moon Canines.

Abort.

I’ll just do some window shopping.

Oh, hello, Barry.

Jim’s not bad on the eyes, either.

Nope.

Nope.

Nope.

Sam says he’s the best catch in London. These claims should be validated with a blue tick as they do for celebrity profiles.

Hello, Officer Nigel!

Maybe.

Dear Lord, Jordan with the hot abs is a pilot. Some guys definitely get more sex because of their job.

So many options.

Jerome doesn’t want to go out with any Labour Party supporters. I haven’t decided how I’m going to vote this year.

God, this is fun. How many have I swiped?

NINETY MINUTES.

This is an addictive game.

Not a game. It’s a sport. My eyeballs are hanging out of my head, and adrenaline is pumping through me like a current.

I’m never building new hobbies at this rate.

I bet there’s a diagnosed addiction now for swiping.

In a year’s time, I’ll be standing in a room with a twitchy finger announcing,Hello, my name’s Bonnie and I’m a serial swiper.

I must ask Nisha how many swipes per day are too many. Maybe I’ll run out of swipes before I can become addicted.

Although, London’s a big place, and if I run out, I can widen my catchment area to Kent and the home counties.

I transition from sofa to bed, still swiping on my walk.

Nope.

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