Page 4 of Fluffed and Folded

“We’re going to help Eli construct the best online dating profile ever.”

Now Tristan trained the raised brows on Eli, and he must be getting to know the guy because he could read the amusement there. “Oh, good, I was hoping it would turn into a fun group project,” Eli said. “I love those. Maybe we could call the jock table from high school, gather their input.”

“You can trust Tristan,” Josie said. “He’s amazing with secrets.”

“This guy? Secretive?” Eli said, pointing at Tristan in what was clearly a joke. The man had barely said five words in the last six months. At the Fourth of July parade, a float ran over his toes and he didn’t even say ouch.

“I know he may not seem like it,” Josie said, draping her arm once again on Tristan’s shoulders so the size difference between them was highlighted, this time even more comically. “But trust me, despite the outward chattiness, he’s solid.”

“I will take your word for it,” Eli said warily. “But if this ends up on some private investigator gossip blog, I am going to be so mad.”

Tristan pretended to ignore them both, but he did pick up Josie’s drink and take a sip of the whipped cream. From what Eli had been able to discern, that was like full acceptance of their shenanigans.

“I know what I want to see on Eli’s profile, but from a guy’s point of view, what should we put?” Josie asked Tristan, eyeing him.

Tristan was thoughtfully quiet for so long, Eli assumed he wouldn’t answer. Or maybe Josie would parse his answer by discerning his grunts and squints, some kind of primitive couple code or something. But after another sip of Josie’s latte foam, he actually spoke.

“You need to be careful with your privacy. Nothing to indicate your real name, job, or address. These sites are notorious for attracting fleecers and lowlifes.”

Eli hadn’t thought of that, and he appreciated the heads up. “Maybe I shouldn’t do it.”

“What? No, you’re scaring him,” she accused Tristan, who shrugged, expressionless. “Eli, it’s fine. Obviously there are scammers, but you’ll have that anywhere. And that’s why we’re here, to help keep you safe and point you toward a real person, someone warm and loving and perfect.” She did the thing again, where she clasped her hands under her chin and gave him big eyes. This time they weren’t filled with pleading; they were filled with rosy hopes and dreams for his future. As much as he appreciated her enthusiasm, it was hard to share it. All he hoped for from this scenario was the chance to meet a nice girl and build some momentum, to lay some groundwork for future dating. Not to actually meet his soulmate. No one got that lucky. Did they?

He glanced at Tristan, trying to get a reasonable take, but Tristan stared at Josie, clearly besotted by her rapturous delight.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I’m kind of missing Gabe right now,” Eli said. For all of his faults, Gabe kept him level. It was hard to be too happy or believe in happily ever after when Gabe always brought you back to earth with his cynical self-centeredness. If you believed true love and happiness could be found, Gabe was always able to disillusion you. But with Josie, rosy-cheeked and dewy with love and happiness, it was all too easy to envision a similar future for himself, one where he found his person and rode off into the sunset, hand in hand while feeding each other frozen grapes.

“Honest opinion, Tristan,” Eli said, demanding Tristan’s focus on him instead of his walking emoji girlfriend. “Do you think online dating is a horrible idea for me?”

Tristan regarded him stoically a few seconds, glanced at Josie, fastened on Eli and said, “No, I think it’s terrific,” so deadpan that he might have been talking about the mold he found on that morning’s milk.

“See?” Josie said, with impossibly more enthusiasm. “With us as your wingmen, you can’t fail.” She held out her hand toward Tristan for a fist bump, and he actually did it. For kicks, Eli also held out his hand for a bump and Tristan stared at it like he wished it was made of metal so he could melt it down and make something useful from it. A gun, perhaps, or possibly a barbell.

“Okay, let’s see, what rhymes with braces?” Josie asked, going doe-eyed again as she once again clasped her hands beneath her chin.

“Maces,” Tristan supplied, so quickly it was as if he’d been waiting for it.

“This is going to go well,” Eli said, staring between them.

“We bring balance,” Josie said, pointing between herself and Tristan.

“Great. Between the two of you I’m going to get a munitions expert who likes to bake cupcakes,” Eli said.

“She sounds amazing,” Tristan deadpanned.

“Squee,” Josie exclaimed.

“She squeed,” Eli noted.

“She does that,” Tristan agreed as Josie got out a piece of paper and began to make a list. As soon as Eli heard her mutter “kisser/mister” under her breath, he stood to grab another espresso.

CHAPTER 3

The apartment complex was not a luxury dwelling, but neither was it a hovel. It averaged somewhere in the middle, but the location was prime enough so that even a studio apartment went for thousands a month. As Eli had told Josie, Adams Morgan was the neighborhood of note for movers and shakers in DC, and there was a waiting list a mile long for his apartment, should he ever give in to temptation and flee the city for the peace of the country. He thought about what Josie said as he sat by the pool and tried to figure out if he was where he wanted to be or where he thought he should be.

Conveniently close to work: pro.

“What’s up, my guy? You getting in?”

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