14. Dee #2
“All right, I think we’re done here.” I press the lid back onto the cookie tin. I’m taking my tits and hightailing it out of here. “I’ll take your opinions into consideration when I choose a worthy date for my very platonic roommate.”
I snatch my phone from Carissa, and yup, there’s my face smiling back at me.
“Isn’t that interesting,” Abby says, leaning back onto her palms, smiling up at me as I walk to the kitchen table.
“Isn’t what interesting?” Bec asks. This girl could win an Oscar for the performance she’s putting on.
“It seems our sweet Deanna, or her identical twin, matched with Dylan’s dating profile,” Abby explains.
Okay, Abby and Bec will have to split the Oscar.
“That does seem strange,” Carissa interjects.
“I wonder what would happen if I just…” Ellie says, pretending to swipe right.
“There is no world in which Dylan and I ever match up on a dating site. You do realize we live in the same apartment. If we were a good match, there’d be signs.”
The girls all exchange a look.
“What?” I swirl my finger around between them. “What the fuck is that look for?”
“I mean, it’s not like you two argue,” Bec adds.
“If anything, the two of you being together has only made you…stronger.” Ellie shivers.
“Yeah, the sass, confidence, and charisma have basically joined forces into one…dare I say, power couple?” Abby asks.
“I think the fuck not.” I grab a bag of chips, ripping them open and shoving a handful into my mouth.
“So how do you explain this?” Carissa adds, gesturing to my phone, where sure as fuck, there is my goddamn face, still staring back at me.
My dating profile matched with Dylan’s.
“This is what happens when you make a dating profile for someone else. We clearly both got it wrong. The answers are obviously skewed. This would never happen if we made our own profiles.”
“Uh-huh. Sure. Whatever helps you sleep at night, Dee,” Ellie says.
“I still think the lawyer is a good investment for the group,” I say through another mouthful of chips.
Bec rolls her eyes. “Yeah, because Dylan is looking at career credentials. You know as well as I do, he needs someone who challenges him.”
“Who better than a lawyer?” I ask.
“Gee, I don’t know, maybe the hellcat he shares an apartment with,” Bec mutters.
“Oooo, hellcat.” I shake my finger at Bec.
“I like it. I have Dylan convinced we have a cat. That’d be the perfect name for it.
” I tap my temple a few times, trying to lock it into my memory so I can use it the next time I want to torture Dylan with this lie.
“I think I’ll start calling that out randomly. ”
“Wait. Rewind. You have Dylan convinced you have a cat?” Carissa asks.
I smirk. “He bought Fancy Feast the other day. I saw him set it outside of his bedroom door before he went to sleep, and saw him check it in the morning to see if she ate any during the night.”
“She? As in the imaginary cat,” Bec clarifies.
“Hellcat. Precisely. Thank you for the name.”
“You’re something else,” Abby adds.
“Thank you.” I blow her a kiss. “Now, since I’m hosting next month, who would be willing to bring a cat? Bec, Abby, can we have a visitor from New Hope? Cats…books…they go together, right?”
The shelter Bec and Abby volunteer at is incredible. The training facility where they work regularly partners with New Hope, helping adorable pets find their forever families.
The conversation moves back into safer territory, away from me, my dating life, and my hottie roommate, whom I platonically torture with my fake cat.
Abby and Bec show me about a hundred pictures of the cats at New Hope, making their case for why I should just go ahead and commit to adopting one.
That one girl sure is a cutie. She looks like a Stevie.
But that would undercut my prank if I adopted a cat.
Might have to sacrifice the joke for that adorable furry face.
When the girls and I wrap up for the night, I hug everyone goodbye and swear Dom to secrecy. He’s an eavesdropper. But the threats I left him with had his eyes practically popping out of his head as he frantically agreed to keep all book club secrets safely hidden from my roommate.
Before I start my drive, I spend a minute with my car idling in Ellie’s driveway, looking over my dating profile. The one Dylan has made for me.
I can’t fight my curiosity any longer.
The picture he used for my profile isn’t one I’ve seen before.
I study it, realizing it’s a cropped photo, one he must have taken at Ellie and Dom’s vow renewal this past fall.
I’m laughing and clearly overjoyed. We all were that day.
Seeing Ellie and Dom recommit to each other, celebrating all that they’ve overcome and all that they share with each other and their son. Who wouldn’t be ecstatic seeing that?
I’m not some cynic. I believe in love. My parents, Morgan, Bec, Ellie—they’ve all shown me what’s possible when you find the right person.
But the longer I’ve been single, unable to find anyone I want to share my life with, the easier it’s been to picture myself happily single and ready to mingle indefinitely.
I’d rather be alone than settle for an asshat.
But reading my new, and admittedly improved, dating profile, I can’t help but think maybe I haven’t seen myself clearly at all.
I pride myself on being overconfident. Bold and brazen.
Unshakable and undeterred even when shit is hard.
But Dylan didn’t frame me as this in-your-face, too-much-to-handle ball of chaos I picture myself to be.
His answers make me seem strong, but approachable.
Tough, but kind. Confident, but capable of vulnerability.
Is this how he sees me?
The hobbies? Spot on. Favorite foods, movies, music? He knows me. He sees more than I realized. Yet, his assessment has me questioning if I even know myself.
Why does that leave me feeling so unsteady?
By the time I get home, it’s late. The light under the microwave is on. And when I spot another can of Fancy Feast outside Dylan’s door, I smile. Then of course, I dump it out, messing with the can to make it seem like Hellcat had her way with the offering.
Humming happily to myself, I get ready for bed, definitely not thinking of how my roommate will react in the morning.