Page 40 of Plays Well With Others

“C’mon, Rach. He rolled out all the stops for you at my store,” she says. “He arranged that whole datefor you.”

This isn’t the first time Elodie and I have discussed the chocolate date. She texted me the next day to sayYou looked so happy last night,then she addedAlso, you two looked like a couple.

I’d replied withWe aren’t!

“The date was amazing. But it wasentirely platonic,” I say, then bite into a chip, finishing it before I add, “Something he made quite clear when he asked me out on it. It was for Date Night. You know he has this sponsorship with them.”

“Yes, I see him all over the app,” Juliet says breezily while snagging another chip.

What? Like, hitting on women? A hot burst of jealousy flares through me, chased by red-hot irritation. Is he messing around with women on the app? Is he lying to me? Like Edward did?

My heart spins like a washing machine off-kilter. “What do you mean? Like you can see him flirting or something? Can you tell who he swipes on? Is he going on dates? What can you see?”

I’m desperate to know since I barely understand how apps work these days. I used them in college and for a few years after, but I didn’t even meet Edward online. I was a retail buyer for jewelry at a big department store, and he was one of the company’s bankers. I’ve been off apps for more than seven years. A lifetime in modern dating.

Juliet laughs gently.“No, grandma. You can’tseehim flirting or talking to anyone. That’s not how apps work.”

Oh. Right. Of course. But hecouldbe talking to other women.

Of course he is. He owes his sponsor four more dates. Unless…

“Sure, right. I knew that,” I say, then grab my merlot since wine doesn’t make me feel stupid. I do that well enough on my own.

“But I saw the videos he did with Quinn on Date Night a couple years ago, and now there are all these ‘five great first date’ ads running,” Juliet continues, twirling a strand of brown hair with a free hand. “And obviously there’s the video of you two from the date.”

Of course I knew that. He showed the video to me before he posted it a couple days ago. I even approved it. But now I can’t stop thinking about him using the app to talk to women. My eye is twitching.

My sister’s lips curve into agotchagrin. “Oh my god, you’re sooo into him,” she says, then reaches for a nacho triumphantly.

“No,” I say, trying desperately to cut that notion off. “Not like that.”

“Then like what?” Elodie asks pointedly.

“I’m not into him like anything,” I say, and I’m saved by the game, since the action on the screen returns to first down.

I stare intensely at the TV. As I crunch hard on chips, I pour all my focus into the game, only the game, as the Renegades quarterback hands off to Malik Hamlin. The running back hustles downfield, evading first one tackle, then another as Carter blocks for him. Malik’s finally knocked down but after he nabs another first down. Carter offers him a hand and yanks him up, then they smack palms. I cheer. A few plays later, Carter easily sails across the end zone on a short pass.

“Yes!” I shout.

He smacks palms with his quarterback in the end zone, then he rips off his helmet as he trots to the sidelines. His grin is pure exuberance. The thrill of a job well done. A bead of sweat slides down his brow and his eye black is smudged. He high-fives his teammates.

I smile stupidly.

“You sure seem like you’renotinto him,” Elodie says dryly.

“It was a platonic date,” I insist. The more I say it, the quicker these flutters I get as I stare at the gorgeous, sexy, totally built stud on the screen will stop. I hope. I really hope.

“Sure,” Elodie adds with awhatever you saynod. “I see a lot of men who roll out all the stops on platonic dates.”

“For a sponsor,” I add. “A sponsor. Let me remind you of what he said to me when he asked me on said platonic date.” I clear my throat, then adopt a masculine tone as I repeat Carter’s words. “Idon’t want to go anywhere near a real date, so my agent is getting it all sorted for me to do five first dates. And it’ll be way easier for me if you and I could do the first one. As friends.”

I mime dropping a mic.

Juliet frowns.

Elodie sighs.

Then my sister grabs a couch pillow and tosses it on the floor like a petulant child. “Thanks for ruining my Sunday.”

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