Page 22 of Swiped By My Dad's Best Friend
There were a few notifications, direct messages from guys who’d liked my profile. I navigated through them, pausing when I saw the one from Coop420.
Well, shit.
Cooper had messaged me days ago.
To read it or not to read it? I knew what Ishoulddo.
But hadn’t I wanted a distraction from my work problems? I couldn’t think of a better one than the bratty boy who’d been occupying so much of my mind.
“Fuck it,” I muttered, clicking the message. “We’re hundreds of miles apart. What can it hurt?”
* * *
COOPER
A notification showed a message on Thrust, and my heart lurched. It was probably some random asshole wanting to hook up—but I couldn’t help hoping that Trace had replied to my messages. I hadn’t been able to resist reaching out a few times—even without a reply from him.
Trace didn’t want a relationship with me. He’d only agreed to our one night because he was leaving. And I hated the idea of being that clingy guy that wouldn’t respect boundaries.
But…hell. I was that clingy guy. Something about him just made me want to go full octopus and wrap myself around his leg and beg him to never leave me.
Too bad that ship had already sailed.
I checked my notifications, fist pumping when I saw that Trace had replied.
I re-read my initial message to him:Wish I could blow off some steam with you again. Weed just isn’t doing it for me.
When there’d been no reply, I’d followed it up with:It’d be nice to at least talk to you again…
He still hadn’t answered, so I’d gone with humor:
Well, okay, you leave me no choice but to get high every day.
I was only partly joking. It wasn’t a daily habit, but well, I’d gone through stressful periods in my life where smoking was the only thing I wanted to do. It was easier sometimes to hole up in the house and invite a few friends over, just smoke and decompress. College was stressful, even for the straight-A, overachiever crowd. Some of themloveda chance to chill with me and get out of their own heads. It was practically a therapy circle.
Finally, desperate for any kind of reaction, I’d messaged:I get it, Trace. I am my father’s son, even though I’m nothing like him. I should probably start searching this app for Daddy types and see if there’s someone who can handle me. Maybe find a different kind of stress relief…
One day later, and I’d finally gotten a response.
Trace had replied with:Stop putting that crap in your body.
I rolled my eyes. Wow, he’d really gone full Daddy on me.
Weed isn’t bad for you,I typed back.
He didn’t miss a beat.You’re using it as a crutch. You as good as told me so.
I pressed my lips together. Maybe messaging had been a mistake. I was hoping for some flirting, and I was probably going to get a lecture instead.
Well, this has been fun,I started to type, but before I could finish my sign-off, Trace messaged again.
Here’s what you’re going to do. You’re going to stay off weed all week. And instead, each night, you’re going to make a video of yourself coming for me.
My breath caught. Holy shit, I hadnotbeen expecting that. I’d kind of thought Trace would blow me off, or at the very least, offer a friendly ear. My heart pounded.
Another message came in.
Starting right now.
