Chapter 4
CHAPTER FOUR
SOPHIE
“Fuck. Yes. Sophie Sullivan, one. App from hell, zero,” I crow, reaching for my phone to text my dad’s sister, my aunt Amelia.
Me
BOW TO MY GENIUS.
Amelia
No fucking way. You did it?
I laugh because, fuck yeah, I did. Amelia owns an app development business and got stuck on some code for one of her clients. She asked me to take a look at it like she sometimes does for a second set of eyes, and I made that code my bitch.
Me
Did it? I annihilated it. Check the GitHub. The code is all there.
Amelia
Holy shit, Soph.
You are the most brilliant Sullivan of all the Sullivans.
Me
Smarter than my dad?
Amelia
You can’t hear me but I’m snorting right now. You’re way smarter than your dad. I’ll be texting him next to tell him you figured it out. I gave him this code a week ago and he’s still working on it. It took you less than a day.
I make a mental note to text my dad later and do some bragging.
He may have started a multi-billion-dollar business a hundred years ago and invented the phone that pretty much everyone in the world owns, but when it comes to coding, Amelia and I wipe the floor with him, and we really like reminding him of that as much as we possibly can.
It’s an honor thing.
Me
What can I say? My coding skills are legendary.
Amelia
They sure are. Are you sure I can’t put you on my payroll?
Me
Nah, I have a job. I just like to help for the fun of it.
Amelia
I would say you’re a mega nerd, but it takes one to know one. I’m paying you for this one though. Call it a freelance fee.
Me
Don’t you dare. I like the challenge.
Amelia
Fine, but don’t yell at me when a ten-pound bag of those gross jelly beans you love shows up at your office later today.
Me
The buttered popcorn or the toasted marshmallow?
Amelia
I just threw up in my mouth a little. One of each.
Me
Fuck yes, I love you the most.
Amelia
Oh, I know.
When are you coming to Boston, Soph? It’s been too long and we miss you.
Amelia lives in Boston with her husband, my uncle Elliot Wyles, and my cousins Clara and Mason. Sarah’s dad and Emmy’s dad are two of Elliot’s brothers, and Elliot’s fourth brother is also connected to our little group through his wife, Hannah, who is Caitlin and Jack’s aunt.
Our family tree interconnects in so many weird ways even I sometimes have a hard time keeping track of it, but Amelia’s message reminds me it really has been a while since I’ve been to Boston.
I try and go a couple times a year to hang with Amelia and Elliot and my cousins, and they come to Pittsburgh a lot since my dad and their other sister—my aunt Olivia—also lives here with her family, but I’m definitely due for a Boston trip.
I consider that, glancing up at the calendar displayed on one of my computer monitors before turning back to my phone.
Me
What about for Clara’s birthday next month?
Amelia
I’m writing it in permanent marker and circling it on my calendar with hearts and rainbows. Try and get Sarah and Emmy to come with you. They’re due for a trip too.
Me
I’m now making plans in my head for an epic road trip. Stay tuned.
Amelia
I’m counting the actual minutes. Love you, Soph.
Me
Love you too.
I put my phone down on my desk and kick back in my office chair with a grin.
What an excellent fucking day. Everything is finalized for the robotics competition a week early, which is basically unheard of in the world of Sophie Sullivan—I’m a last-minute sort of girl.
I got to troubleshoot a coding issue, which is one of my favorite things in the world, and a jelly bean restock is on its way to me just when I was running low.
All I need is a Broadway stage and a microphone, and it would be the best day ever.
I would even settle for off-Broadway. Or local theater.
Fuck, I miss performing. I was in my first play when I was five and fell deeply, head over heels in love with it.
I went to a performing arts high school and double majored in theater and computer science in college.
I always figured I would keep one foot in that world, but then I started working at my dad’s foundation, and when I fell in love with the work we do, theater kind of fell by the wayside.
Cam’s daughter, Riley, and my Aunt Olivia’s daughter, my cousin Zoe, are both freshman at Fieldston, the same performing arts high school I went to, and since they started there earlier this year, I’ve been thinking about doing some volunteering at the school to get back into the theater world.
I make another mental note—my fifth of the day by my count—to check out alumni volunteer opportunities.
This girl needs a stage.
I’m falling into a delightful daydream about taking a bow to the sounds of a standing ovation when my phone chimes. My feet drop to the floor, and I sit straight up in my chair because that’s not just any chime.
It’s the VibeCheck notification.
I eye my phone cautiously, as if it might grow fangs.
That notification has haunted me in the ten days since I created my profile.
I thought maybe the fact that it’s an anonymous app means there would be fewer freaks and weirdos than the average dating app, but in the almost two weeks I’ve been back from New Orleans, I’ve gotten, among other things, five extremely unsolicited dick pics, three Wanna fuck?
texts, endless wyd? messages and, unnervingly, one request for a picture of my feet.
The audacity of men, I swear to fucking god. I think we should throw them all away and start from scratch because they are really not sending their best.
I now understand why Maya is always complaining about the dating pool and am sort of regretting every one of my life choices that led to me signing up for one of these apps in the first place. I really should just delete the damn thing and call it a failed experiment.
Without my permission, my eyes stray to the scatter of picture frames on my office bookshelf, landing directly on one of Tyler and me from the day the Renegades won the AFC championship a few weeks ago.
The massive, beaming grin on his face and his arm looped around my shoulders, tugging me into him, along with the way I’m looking up at him and beaming back make my stomach flip, and no.
No way. No stomach flipping over Tyler allowed.
Digging into the bowl on my desk, I toss a handful of jelly beans into my mouth, letting the familiar buttered popcorn and toasted marshmallow flavors soothe me. Gross? Maybe. My favorite candy of all time? Absolutely yes.
Properly fortified, I take a sip from my ever-present pink water bottle and then one from the slightly warm Dr Pepper can sitting next to it before picking up my phone.
I click into the VibeCheck app with one eye closed to at least partially shield myself from whatever grossness I’m about to encounter.
When I see I only have one message, I breathe a sigh of relief because even if it’s weird, at least it’s only one.
The request is from the username RenegadeRush, and I figure that even though there’s a reasonable chance it’s something gross, the odds might be tilted just slightly in my favor because Renegades fans are the best fans.
Takes one to know one. With a deep breath and a prayer to the goddess of dating apps, I click to accept the message.
RenegadeRush
A love that defies gravity, huh? Theater fan?
It’s not a request for a picture of my feet, so we’re already off to a good start.
Flexing my metaphorical fingers, I prepare to bring my A-game to this conversation.
Then I decide that A-game might be aiming too high.
Not one single man on this app is bringing his A-game, so I really shouldn’t waste my energy.
I mentally downgrade my aspirations to a solid B-minus performance.
ChaosQueen
Whatever gave you that idea?
RenegadeRush
Every time I hear Idina Menzel sing the line “And if I’m flying solo, at least I’m flying free,” I get chills.
ChaosQueen
You know your Wicked.
RenegadeRush
Bet your ass I do. Are you surprised?
ChaosQueen
I’m surprised you took the time to read my profile, quite honestly.
RenegadeRush
Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do?
ChaosQueen
In my admittedly limited experience, men skip over the profile entirely and go straight for openings of the “u up?” variety.
RenegadeRush
I feel like I need to apologize on behalf of all the men.
ChaosQueen
Well, someone definitely should.
RenegadeRush
ChaosQueen, on behalf of every man to ever walk the earth, I apologize for how many of us are total and complete assholes, and I promise to keep my assholery as limited as possible.
ChaosQueen
The fact that you didn’t promise not to be an asshole at all is noted and appreciated. That shows a level of self-awareness that is rare among the mens.
RenegadeRush
Self-awareness is my superpower. My mom made sure of it.
ChaosQueen
Do I sense a mama’s boy in my midst?
RenegadeRush
You better believe it, but not in the weird, creepy way. More in the, she’s the reason I’m 98% non-asshole way.
ChaosQueen
Between loving your mom and knowing your Broadway, I’m left wondering if you’re some alien species of man. Those are two qualities I have yet to encounter amongst the menfolk.
I take it back actually. I have a friend kind of like that, so maybe there are two of you.
RenegadeRush
A friend?
ChaosQueen
Are you unfamiliar with the concept?
RenegadeRush
Nah, I’m wondering if this is actually just a friend or if I’ve got some competition.
ChaosQueen
You’re awfully sure of yourself for a conversation that’s only 21 messages old.
RenegadeRush
You counted the messages?