Page 6 of Mixed Motives

Anger flashes through me as I think about Henry’s face. He was heartbroken, and here’s my son not caring at all about his feelings.

I want to lecture Kerrigan. To tell him that if he keeps throwing away guys who are wonderful, he’s going to miss out on something great.

But I don’t think it will achieve anything. Kerrigan’s not going to listen to me, and nothing’s going to change. He’s an adult, and I can’t fix this for him.

So instead of telling him off, I nod and shoo him out of my office.

My best friend, Wolfe LaBella—he’s a professor at Albrecht College in Santa Barbara—comes over for dinner a few nights later. And he surprises the fuck out of me by admitting that he’s secretly dating a student.

“You’re doing what?” I try not to sound accusatory or censuring, but Wolfey is not the kind of guy to break rules. He’s more likely to break his reading glasses.

Wolfe sips his wine. “He’s worth it,” he finally says. “When you find that person … when you know that he’s the one, nothing can keep you apart.”

“Hmm,” I say noncommittally. I can’t help worrying about Wolfe. He could lose his job if anyone finds out. “There are some lines I can’t cross.”

“Look, I’m not going to tell you what to do, but you really should get out there more. I worry about you.”

“I’m fine,” I tell him, but then I find myself adding, “Although, truth? I’m jealous. I wish I were doing what you’re doing. Enjoying things I couldn’t before.” I sigh.

Wolfey’s eyes light up. “It’s marvelous when we don’t have to hide—that is, when we’re not on campus. Sure, we get some looks sometimes, but I don’t care. He’s worth it.”

He pulls out his phone and shows me a picture of him with his new boyfriend. What gets me about the photo is not that his boyfriend is cute—though he is—but that they’re holding hands while someone took the picture of them.

That kind of casual affection is something I crave deep down in my soul. The one thing I’ve wanted in a relationship—especially one with a man, ever since I figured out my bisexuality—was to be able to shout my feelings from the rooftops. I’ve never been able to do that. At first I was in the closet. Now I’m out and proud, but with no one to share my life with, it feels hollow.

After Wolfe leaves, I’m scrolling on my phone and am inundated with ads for Valentine’s Day special dinners, chocolates, jewelry, and candy.

Gah. My least favorite holiday. The one that reminds me how alone I am. Why do the algorithm gods hate me so much?

The algorithm answers me by serving up yet another ad, this one for the Heart2Heart dating app. “Ready to fall in love this Valentine’s Day?” it reads. “Time to meet CUPID! Over the last five years, Heart2Heart has helped thousands of lonely hearts find their perfect match. Now, just in time for Valentine’s Day, we’ve taken match-making to the next level. Your romantic future is about to get even brighter thanks to CUPID, the Compatible-Unit Partnering Intelligence Databot, which pairs H2H’s enormous database with the most accurate compatibility-detection technology ever created. Many users say CUPID knows what they need in a partner even better than they do! Want to know what CUPID has in store for you? Click here to sign up.”

I don’t know why, but I download the app. Actually, I do know why: I’m lonely, and I don’t want to be alone on Valentine’s Day.

Henry’s face enters my imagination, except I know he can’t be the one for me.

But maybe a computer can find the right match. Since this small town offers limited possibilities, I expand the geographic parameters to include Santa Barbara, to the south.

After clicking a few more boxes, I agree to try a date with an unknown partner, and my heart pounds as I wait to be matched up.

CHAPTER 3

HENRY

“Whoever said the best way to get over a man is to get under another must’ve had way more game than me. Seriously,” I say, dipping a chip into some excellent queso.

Zayden French, my best friend from college—before I dropped out—waves a hand in the air. He stopped by to cheer me up, which I appreciate, even if it isn’t working. “You’ve got game. You just haven’t been successful yet.” That’s easy for him to say. He’s dating Turner Graff, the most popular guy on campus. He’s forgotten how much he hated Turner at first.

Zay and I met because we were both art majors, but Zay’s way more stylish than I am, in an industrial goth way. “Opposites attract” apparently works for friendships, too.

Regardless, nothing’s working for me at the moment. I point two fingers at my chest. “Geek of the week over here, trying to be a playa. And failing miserably.”

“You tried one time to be a playa, with the sexy-as-sin but very rule-following father of your cheating ex-boyfriend. That’s barely trying,” he scoffs. “You should ask CUPID.”

I raise both eyebrows. “You’re aware that the chubby baby someone gave a bow and arrow to doesn’t exist. And while I’m on the topic, why would someone give a baby a bow and arrow? It’s illogical. Or at least dangerous.”

Zay laughs. “Ignoring the fact that you’re ridiculous, the CUPID I’m talking about is a computer program that’s part of Heart2Heart. It matches you up with a date.”

“No.” I cross my arms over my chest. “Oh my God. Absolutely not.”

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