Page 16 of The Confidentiality Clause
Ariel: I’m the judge of what counts, remember?
Brock: And your verdict?
Ariel: Doesn’t count. Has to be intentional.
Brock: You’re hard to please, Duke.
I shake my head, a smile playing on my lips.
Ariel: If you think a woman who lays out specific directions is hard to please, then I’m glad you don’t have time for a relationship.
Brock: Trust me, if we were dating, you’d have no complaints.
“Hello? Ariel?” Sutton’s voice makes me drop my phone on my bed. “What are you doing?”
“Sorry, sorry,” I say as I pick the device back up. “I was reading a message from work.”
“Now you sound like my brother.” Sutton laughs, but it’s not her usual bright laugh. My stomach sinks.
“How’s he doing?”
“Fine, I guess. He’s texted me more since you went to see him. I just can’t shake this feeling that something is wrong. He’s my twin, you know? We should talk more than a couple of stale texts a week.”
If a sinkhole could appear in my bedroom and swallow me up right now, that would be great.
“I’m sorry, S. Do you want me to go throw another garlic roll at him?”
“No, it’s okay. I’m probably being dramatic.”
I’m an awful friend.
“Do you want to look through dating profiles with me?” I ask as a way to change the subject. If we stay here any longer, I’m going to spill everything. “You can help me find my date for the event.”
Sutton perks up. “That sounds fun!”
I exit out of my chat with Brock and open up one of the dating apps, then screen share so Sutton can look with me. The app is fairly simplistic, with profile photos that have a heart or an ‘x’ at the bottom. You can scroll up to see some information about the person as well.
“Ew. Do not heart him.” Sutton cringes at the first guy that pops up.
“We haven’t even gone through his profile yet,” I say with a laugh.
“I don’t need to. I can see everything I need to know.”
Admittedly, the guy looked a little…greasy? His hair and mustache seemed to have copious amounts of gel in them. At least I’m hoping it’s gel. He could just be the type to not bathe much.
We swipe through a few profiles. I don’t heart a single one. If I don’t have an objection, Sutton does. Nothing slips past her.
“Do you have another app? This selection is awful,” Sutton says with a scrunched-up nose.
“I have about five other apps.” I sigh. “But I think I might be getting burnt out. It’s always the same kinds of guys. Even ones with good profiles don’t work out.”
“What if you’re meant to meet your husband the old-fashioned way? Reach for the same book in the library, or lose your handkerchief and he picks it up off the ground for you.”
“I don’t go to the library or carry a handkerchief.”
“Maybe you should start there.”
I give her a flat look. She grins in return.
