Page 80 of The Play

I roll my eyes. “TJ is too—”

“—in love with you,” Hunter finishes.

“He’s not in love with me. But he’s too good of a friend and he’s super sensitive. I could see him getting emotionally attached.”

“Got it. So you want a guy who won’t get emotionally attached.”

“Pretty much.”

“Are you on Tinder?”

“I’ve been dating the same guy since I was thirteen. Of course I’m not on Tinder.”

“Then you should be. It’s the easiest way to find a no-strings hook-up or friend with benefits. Come to think of it, that’s probably a better fit for you. You need a FWB.”

“Why’s that?”

Hunter offers a shrug. “I think you’d feel sleazy after a one-nightstand. Like you said, you were with the same guy since the age of thirteen. You’re used to a certain level of intimacy.”

He has a point. “So you think I need someone who I’ll see more than once.”

“Yup yup—”

“Don’t say yup yup.”

“—this will be fun. Come on, let’s download the app.” With a wolfish grin, he climbs onto my bed and flops down beside me. A moment later, we’re downloading—ugh—Tinder.

“I only have an hour or so for this,” I warn. “I’m meeting TJ for dinner tonight.”

“In town or on campus?”

“Carver Hall.”

“Then we have plenty of time. Carver’s like down the street from you.” Hunter watches as I load the app. “Oh, this is so exciting. I get to live vicariously through you.”

“When your dick was functional, were you ever on any of these apps?”

“Nah. Do you realize how easy it is for me to get sex, Semi?”

“You’re such an egomaniac.”

“No, I’m a hockey player. I could literally walk out my front door and there’d be a woman standing there ready to screw me.”

He’s probably right. I’m still not much of a hockey fan, but I have been making an effort to pay attention when it’s on. My favorite part of hockey is when the half-naked men get interviewed in the locker room after the game. So I can definitely see the appeal.

“Also, we’re in college. Dating apps aren’t really necessary since everyone’s always partying and being social. It’s easy to meet people on campus.”

“Then why am I setting this up?” I grumble.

“Because we’re fishing for a specific kind of meeting. When you want a particular thing, you filter out everything else. Yeah, you could sit in a bar, wait for different guys to approach you, and tryto figure out what they’re looking for. But this way you go into it knowing exactly what they want.”

“Fair enough.” Excitement tickles my belly as I set up the account. I use my phone number to log in, because I don’t want my social media linked to this craziness. When it’s time to load my profile picture, Hunter slides closer and watches me scroll through my camera roll.

He smells fantastic. It’s a woodsy, masculine scent and I’m tempted to bury my face in his neck and inhale. However, I think that could be construed as sexual harassment.

“How about this one?” I click on a photo that I think I look super cute in.

Hunter balks. “Seriously? Who are we trying to attract here? Young Republicans? No. The first profile photo needs to show some skin.”

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