Page 9 of Riptide

She shakes her head and nudges the dishwasher closed with her hip. “Already done. You heading up?”

“Yeah, I’m pretty beat.” I finish the last gulp.

“Sleep well, sweetheart.”

“Night,” I murmur, giving Dad a lazy wave as I head for the stairs.

The house creaks in all the familiar places as I make my way up, the kind of sounds that used to comfort me when I was younger and still kind of do. I push open the door to my old room and flick on the light, greeted by a wall of memories I never took down. Collapsing onto my bed, I look up at the walls covered in posters I’ve outgrown—well, except the ones of Harry Styles…and maybe Selena Gomez. They can stay—I can’t help but feel like I’m taking huge steps backwards in my life. Harry judges me, I’m sure of it.

Pulling my phone from my pocket to set an alarm for the morning, a new notification flashes across the screen, with a bright neon pink-and-blue banner falls down from the top.

SPARK: You have a new match!

Huh.

I unlock my phone, swiping into the app. I’m met with a new match at the top of my screen.

Foxx has swiped right.

I tap his profile to reveal dark hair, dark-rimmed glasses that highlight the scruff lining his jaw, and the kind of eyes that are deep and would fuck with my head if I stared at them for too long. His first photo is all rolled-up sleeves and bookish intensity. Hot. The second is more casual, outdoors, wearing hiking gear. Okay, he likes being outside, though he has less scruff and looks a little younger there. The third is just him in a dark sweater, arms crossed. He’s not smiling in one of them, and still…I definitely feel a tug of interest.

I scroll to his bio.

Name: Foxx

Age: 29

Bio: “I’m allergic to bad grammar and small talk.”

He borderline comes across like a snob. But I like his dry humor. It’s practically foreplay for me. Plus, his name? Big points, makes him hotter.

Another notification pings at the top of my screen.

Foxx

Hey.

Simple. No weird emojis. Nowhat’s up ;)bullshit. I tap the message box, debating my opening move. First impressions matter, even in something as low stakes as a hookup app.

I start typing.

Finn

Hey?

I was expecting something a little more dramatic. Maybe a sonnet. A thesis. Anything.

His reply comes fast.

Foxx

A thesis, really?

Finn

You look like the bookish type.

Foxx

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