Page 3 of Kicking it with my Best Friend

I swiped for several minutes, left, left, left, right, left. I was being picky, but it didn’t matter. I could be as picky or forgiving as I wanted to be. It wasmydick andmyass on the line.

I was ready to give up and call it a night when I swiped one last time. The picture that popped up was not just familiar, it was instantly recognizable. The guy had wavy, short brown hair, green eyes, and a square jaw covered in stubble. I knew that guy. It was Travis Weston, standing on a mountaintop somewhere. My eyes widened in surprise. Just like his social media pictures showed, he’d grown up to be super hot. Just the type to bring home to Mom and fuck senseless afterward.

“I’ll be damned,” I murmured.

Swipe right.

Chapter Two

Travis

MyassholebuddiesdecidedI needed to get laid and surrender my “V-card” once and for all. Nick and Dylan, guys I’d been friends with since college and who had the dubious distinction of being my best—and only—friends, cornered me at the bar one night, snatched my phone from my hand, and created a profile on Fyre for me. They promised they wouldn’t swipe on anyone, though. They just wanted to create a profile—or so they claimed. Once the profile was set up, Nick slid my phone back across the bar in my direction.

“Have at it.” He grinned at Dylan and sipped his beer.

I gave them both the finger and stuffed my phone in my jeans pocket. “Now let’s see you try to get it.”

Dylan smirked. “Don’t think I won’t.”

I wrinkled my nose. “Hands off.” Just because we were all gay didn’t mean I had any interest in hooking up with either of them. I wasn’t saving myself, exactly, but I definitely wasn’t interested in having a meaningless hookup just to get it over with.

He shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

“What am I supposed to do, anyway? Just find some random guy and beg him to fuck me?”

Nick shoved a pretzel in his mouth. “I don’t think you’ll have to do much begging, considering how hot you are, but yea, pretty much.”

I raised my eyebrows. “You think I’m hot?”

Nick shrugged, disinterest all over his face. “Objectively speaking.”

“What if I don’t want a one-night stand?”

Dylan put his glass down. “Dude, you want to get laid, don’t you? Get it over with? Break the seal, so to speak, so you’re not holding back anymore?”

“I don’t know.” I heard my volume rise as defensiveness took over and my throat tightened. “I mean, sure, I guess, but I don’t want to sleep with just anyone.”

Nick rolled his eyes. “Give me a break. You’re thirty. Quit holding out for Mister Perfect when Mister Good Enough for Now could be right in front of you.”

“What’s wrong with waiting?” I frowned, my shoulders tightening as the tension started to get the better of me.

Dylan leaned forward. “Nothing. Nothing at all. But it sort of feels like you’re waiting for the impossible. Maybe…”

“What? Lower my standards?”

He shook his head, and when he spoke, his tone was gentle. “Set more realistic expectations. Nobody’s perfect and if you’re always focusing on the disqualifiers, you might miss out on someone great.”

I scowled, annoyed mostly because what he was saying made sense. Too much sense. Instead of admitting he was right, I changed the subject, ready to talk about something else—anything else.

“How’s your mom doing, by the way?”

Dylan rolled his eyes, but he took the hint and answered my question, and neither of them brought up the stupid dating app or my virginity again for the rest of the night.

Later that night, in the privacy of my own home, I tried to decode the profiles I saw. The first one only had dick pics. Left. Several only contained shots from the neck down. Left, left, left. There were a few which said they were straight but open to same-sex hookups—as long as we kept it quiet. Hard left.

I swiped left on self-proclaimed sports fanatics, profiles that screamed “internalized homophobia,” and even ones that showed the guy holding a dead animal. I swiped left a lot. There were other deal breakers, too. No pics, pics with cats, and just not my type. I wasn’t shallow, but I had to seesomephotos before I decided a guy was attractive. If I didn’t want to know what they looked like, I would’ve joined Blindr, the blind date dating app. My type was guys who looked like jocks but weren’ttoomuscular, who had a variety of photos, and at least one with friends, so I knew he wasn’t a total loner. As far as the cats went, I wasveryallergic.

Maybe Nick and Dylan were right. Or worse, they were wrong about the benefits of the dating app altogether and I’d wasted precious time and energy. I didn’t get what the big deal was. I wasn’t in any hurry to lose my virginity. Then again, maybe that was the problem. Maybe Ineededto hurry and lose it already. Then I could put it behind me and I wouldn’t need to worry anymore. That’s what the guys claimed—once I lost it, I’d feel freedom and wouldn’t be scared to kiss a few frogs.

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