Shattered Obsession

Chapter 1

CHAPTER ONE

-Thalia-

Dating apps.

The one thing I never thought I’d ever try.

As I sit cross-legged on my bed, the soft glow from my phone illuminating my face, I find myself scrolling through profiles.

I always thought I would naturally meet someone at a restaurant, bar, or grocery store.

But to do that, I’d have to put myself out there, which my introverted personality heavily vetoes.

So, after some my friend recommended I try a dating app, I finally gave in, thinking, “Why not? What could it hurt?”

Although the real reason I downloaded the app is because I’m tired of pretending I’m fine with being alone.

I tell myself I’m just curious, just looking, just ‘putting myself out there’. I tell myself everyone does this now, that it isn’t desperate, that it’s normal. I tell myself I’m allowed to want something soft. Someone soft.

But it’s late, my room is quiet in the suffocating way that makes my chest feel heavy, and the only sounds are the hum of the fan and the faint traffic outside my window.

I’m lying on my stomach, chin on my pillow, scrolling through profiles.

It feels like shopping for something that doesn’t actually exist.

Most of the guys blur together. Gym selfie.

Fish picture. Caption that’s just an emoji and his height like it’s a credential.

Some of them lead with attitude that isn’t earned.

‘Don’t waste my time.’ ‘Not looking for drama.’ ‘No crazy exes.’ As soon as those words meet my eyes, I swipe left so fast that I nearly sprain something.

I don’t want perfect. I want safe. I don’t even realize that’s what I’m looking for until I feel the way my shoulders ease when a profile doesn’t immediately scream at me. That’s when I see him.

Xander.

His first photo isn’t a flex of some ridiculous brag that says ‘Hey, look at me.’ It’s him laughing.

Not posing or angling himself. Just… caught mid-smile.

There’s sun on his face and something in his expression that looks open.

Warm. His jaw is sharp, but his mouth is soft, and I take notice of the little things, like the curve of his lips and the way his eyes scrunch a tad at the corners.

Like he’s the kind of person who smiles with his whole face or not at all.

His bio isn’t long, but it’s not a red flag either. He says he likes dogs and cats, watching YouTube and movies, scrolling on social media for stupid memes, playing video games with his friends, and anything to do with cars and trucks or working on them. I hover for a second, thumb over the screen.

This is stupid. I’m going to swipe right on a stranger I don’t know, and then what? We talk for two days, and he ghosts? Or worse, he doesn’t ghost.

But then I think about how quiet the apartment is.

How sometimes I sit on the couch with the TV on just for background noise, not even watching, just pretending I’m not alone.

How I’ve started narrating my own day in my head like I’m talking to someone because silence feels like a hand over my mouth.

So, I swipe.

It’s an instant match.

The app vibrates in my hand, like it’s excited for me.

Xander has already messaged. My finger hovers over the keyboard, but for a moment, I don’t type anything.

Because this feeling—this fluttering brightness that makes my chest tighten—is dangerous in its own way.

It has been so long since anyone has looked at me without calculation.

I’m not used to softness. I’m used to earning attention.

Performing for it. Shrinking myself into something manageable so no one feels overwhelmed by me.

But when I read his message again, it doesn’t feel like a test. It feels like an invitation.

Xander

So, important question. What’s your go-to comfort movie?

Not ‘hey.’ Not ‘wyd?’ Not ‘where are you?’

A normal question. A real one.

I stare at it for way longer than I should before I answer.

The reply bubble pops up almost instantly, and I watch three blinking dots appear and disappear, like he starts messages and deletes them until he settles on the right one. No one has ever been thoughtful with me like that.

It’s so small. A stupid app. Strangers typing behind tiny screens.

But for the first time in a long time, someone wants to know my comfort movie instead of my measurements. Someone wants to know what I feel rather than what I can offer.

And I don’t know what to do with that.

That alone is new. Most of the guys let the match sit like a trophy or say something like, ‘Hey sexy,’ which is not actually a conversation starter no matter how many of them think it is.

Thalia

You can’t just open with that. That’s basically asking me to expose my soul to a stranger.

Xander

That IS the point of this app. Soul exposure. Emotional nudity. Brutal vulnerability. Etc.

Thalia

Wow, okay, that’s aggressive for a Tuesday night.

Xander

It’s Thursday.

I blink. It is, somehow, in fact, Thursday.

Thalia

So, you’re a bully. Got it.

Xander

Only when necessary.

Comfort movie?

I chew my lip, thinking, and decide to answer with not what sounds cool, but what’s true.

Thalia

…Coraline.

There's a vibration from my phone as he answers, and I'm already impressed with his reply time.

Xander

That’s honestly a red flag.

Thalia

And yet you asked for honesty.

Xander

I did. You’re right. I respect the chaos.

Thalia

Your turn.

Xander

Starwars: Revenge of the Sith.

I cover my mouth to keep from laughing out loud.

Thalia

Oh, so you like hot disaster men and dangerous women and you’re also a nerd. I'll keep that in mind.

Xander

I mean… yeah.

Thalia

Fair.

This is easy. Natural.

That’s the first thing I notice as the conversation goes on.

I don’t have to calculate with him. I don’t have to reread my messages three times and edit half my personality out of them to sound digestible.

The conversation just… moves. He asks things that aren’t invasive but still feel like he wants to know me.

There’s a strange warmth that collects in my chest, like exhaling after holding your breath underwater.

I didn’t realize how much I missed being asked about the small, boring parts of myself.

No one ever asks about those. They ask about my major.

My goals. My resume. But not what smell reminds me of childhood or which season I secretly wish would never end.

No one asks about the version of me that exists when the world isn’t watching.

Xander does.

And the worst part? I feel safe telling him.

Not in a fireworks way. Not in a stomach-dropping, heart-racing, adrenaline-spiked high kind of way. But more like the way grass feels under my feet. Like an open window during a storm. Like a question, not a demand.

I never realized how big the difference is between butterflies and alarms.

He asks simple questions. Like what kind of dog I want someday. Whether I like thunderstorms. If I’m a night person or a morning person. What book ruined my sleep schedule most recently.

Thalia

‘I’ll just read one more chapter’ is the biggest lie I tell myself.

Xander

I knew you were a liar.

Thalia

YOU ASKED!

Xander

I’m just saying I appreciate being warned.

It feels like talking to someone who’s been in my orbit for longer than a handful of hours. It feels dangerous in a way I like.

I don’t realize I’m smiling until I notice my face starting to ache.

I’m still talking to him when I get a notification that says I matched with someone named Damian.

Damian is… different.

His pictures look like they were taken for the specific purpose of proving a point.

He’s attractive in a way that hooks your attention at a glance.

Broad shoulders, jawline like a blade, tattoos he makes sure are visible.

He has that calculated half-smirk guys practice in the mirror.

It’s not necessarily that it’s fake. It’s that it’s meant to land.

His bio is short. Cocky. He says he ‘doesn’t do drama’ and that he ‘likes a girl who can take it’. That he’s ‘not here for games’.

I should swipe left.

There’s something coiled in the wording that makes my stomach prickle, but I hear a voice in my head. ‘Don’t be picky. You don’t get to be picky.’

It’s a voice I hate. It sounds like every moment I’ve swallowed discomfort just to make someone else more comfortable.

I swipe right.

Instant match. Again.

For a split second, I feel good. Wanted. Two matches in one night, both of them messaging first like they mean it. That has not happened to me, ever.

Then I read what my new match has sent me.

Damian

Damn, gorgeous. Where have you been hiding?

I roll my eyes even as I feel that same hot flutter in my stomach. I hate that lines like that still work on me even when I know they’re recycled, probably pasted into fifteen other chats word for word.

Thalia

Hiding??? Bold of you to assume I’ve been hiding.

Damian

So, you’ve been WASTING all that pretty on dudes not even worth it? That’s even worse.

I can fix that.

It’s fast. All of it. He moves the conversation like he’s steering it down a hallway and I’m just following. I give one-word answers, and he turns them into invitations. It feels like a roller coaster I didn’t technically agree to get on.

Damian

What are you doing this weekend?

Thalia

Nothing exciting.

Damian

Good. I’ll take you out.

I blink at that.

It isn’t a question. It’s a statement dressed as one. I don’t even know him. I haven’t even decided if I like him.

My thumb hovers.

It hurts to admit it feels good to be wanted that confidently. Like I don’t have to beg for someone’s attention. Like someone is looking at me and easily saying ‘mine’, as though I’m worth claiming.

My last relationship was more guessing than loving. More ‘are you mad at me?’ than ‘I miss you.’ I’ve been told that I’m too sensitive, too much, and too complicated enough times that now, when someone simply says ‘I want you’, it feels like oxygen.

So, I say yes.

Damian

Atta girl.

Something about that sits wrong. Atta girl. Like a pat on the head.

I swallow it.