Chapter 3
Istare at the screen, thumb hovering like I might take it back. Did I really just message a stranger? On the app I explicitly told Bri I wasn’t going to download?
Apparently, I did.
And now I’m watching a little circle spin on the screen, pulsing gently like it’s thinking, like the app itself is deciding if I deserve to be ghosted immediately or not.
Then …
@HalfWritten:
Have you lost faith in humanity? Or just in men?
I snort. An actual out-loud snort.
@OneLastLine:
You’re right. Men.
Just downloaded this app, swiped through four profiles that made me want to delete my entire gender preference, and then you showed up talking about handwritten notes and fresh grass.
A pause. The circle returns.
@HalfWritten:
I’m honored to be the fifth guy in line behind four walking red flags.
@OneLastLine:
Honestly, one of them listed “tequila and deep convos that end in bed” as a personality trait.
@HalfWritten:
...Did it work?
@OneLastLine:
Sadly, no. I was unimpressed.
The response comes faster this time.
@HalfWritten:
A tragic loss for tequila guy. A minor victory for humanity.
I laugh.
@OneLastLine:
How long have you been on this app?
@HalfWritten:
Two days. A friend convinced me to try it.
You’re the first person who’s ever messaged me.
That catches me off guard.
@OneLastLine:
Seriously?
@HalfWritten:
I know. Try not to let the ego go to your head. I had nearly lost faith in humanity too, but then someone with a personality messaged me. First time for everything.
I grin, warmth crawling its way into my chest before I can stop it.
I push away from my desk, abandoning the cold, straight-backed chair and the half-edited clips waiting on my screen.
For once, I don’t care about algorithms or captions.
This feels bigger than numbers. With my phone in hand, I crawl into bed, wrapping the blanket around my shoulders like a cocoon.
The glow of the screen lights up the dark room as I sink into the pillows.
Work can wait until the morning. This, whatever this is, feels more important right now.
@OneLastLine:
That’s a low bar, but thank you. I’m honored to have cleared it.
@HalfWritten:
In this digital wasteland? It’s practically Olympic level.
The conversation keeps going, slowly, easily, like we’ve done this before.
@HalfWritten:
What are you watching right now?
@OneLastLine:
I just finished an episode of Love Island a little earlier, actually. My best friend and I are invested.
@HalfWritten:
So you’re emotionally damaged. Got it.
@OneLastLine:
You laugh, but I’ll have you know I cried during a recoupling, so, yes, damaged goods.
@HalfWritten:
No judgment. I’m guilty of watching reality TV too.
Not dating shows, though. I am more into cooking competitions. I love the chaos. Nothing makes me feel better than watching someone cry over a risotto.
I chuckle, shaking my head.
@OneLastLine:
So you’re into food-related trauma. Got it.
@HalfWritten:
Exactly. The yelling, the panic, the disastrous soufflés. Peak entertainment.
I am still smiling when he shifts the conversation.
@HalfWritten:
Okay, important question: favorite late-night snack?
@OneLastLine:
Sour candy. I’ve become obsessed lately. I keep it in my bag at all times like a grandma with mints.
Sour Patch Kids, especially the watermelon ones, and Nerds Clusters. If you haven’t tried them, you haven’t lived.
@HalfWritten:
…I’ve actually never tried sour candy.
@OneLastLine:
WHAT.
@HalfWritten:
Don’t judge me. I’m more of a popcorn and pretzels guy.
@OneLastLine:
I’m sorry, but I don’t think we can be friends.
@HalfWritten:
You say that like you’re not the one eating vinegar-coated sugar in the dark.
@OneLastLine:
It’s deliciously aggressive, and you’re missing out.
@HalfWritten:
Noted. Adding “Nerds Clusters” to my shopping list.
I smile into my blanket, the corners of my mouth aching from how long I’ve been grinning.
I don’t even realize how tired I am until my eyes start to flutter.
Because it doesn’t feel like a performance.
There’s no pressure to look good, no need to smile at the right moment. Just words, thoughts, quiet connection.
I glance at the time. 12:48 a.m.
Bri’s already asleep. My editing still isn’t done, yet here I am, curled up in bed, phone glowing in the dark, like a secret I don’t want to give up.
I type one more message.
@OneLastLine:
So is your friend who made you download this app like … a dating guru? Or just tired of hearing you complain?
A moment passes.
@HalfWritten:
Definitely the second one. She said I needed to stop sulking and “do something about it.” So here I am.
@OneLastLine:
Sulking, huh? That’s a bold confession.
@HalfWritten:
I figured honesty was the point here.
I bite my lip. He’s right.
@OneLastLine:
Well … I hope she knows she did the world a service.
A few seconds pass before his answer comes through.
@HalfWritten:
She’d probably agree. She’s annoyingly right most of the time.
There’s a pause, then …
@HalfWritten:
So … why are you on here?
I stare at the screen.
It’s a simple question, but the kind that could shift the whole vibe, depending on how I answer it. Do I go light and vague? Or do I take the risk and be honest?
I chew on the inside of my cheek, thinking. I like this feeling, this ease between us. But I also don’t want to waste time pretending to be someone I’m not.
I start typing:
@OneLastLine:
Honestly? I haven’t had the chance to meet someone I really click with in real life.
Meeting people “out in the wild” isn’t easy for me.
I work a lot. I travel often. My schedule isn’t exactly ideal for building a connection, and I don’t really have the kind of lifestyle where casual dating works.
And then there are the guys who just want a hook up, and I’m not really up for a fling.
I like to have fun, but I’m ready for something that lasts. Someone to grow with.
I hit send before I can second-guess myself.
His response comes through almost immediately.
@HalfWritten:
That makes a lot of sense. I think people underestimate how hard it is to find something real when your life moves fast. And for what it’s worth … I think knowing what you want is a good thing. More people should be that honest.
I exhale slowly, a tiny bit of tension I didn’t realize I was holding easing from my chest. That’s a kinder response than I was expecting.
@OneLastLine:
I hate to break the vibe, but it’s almost 1:00 a.m. and I have to get up really early.
@HalfWritten:
Same. I’ve got to be up in five hours.
But I’m really glad you messaged me.
@OneLastLine:
Me too.
@HalfWritten:
Would you … want to talk again?
I don’t hesitate this time.
@OneLastLine:
Yeah. I’d like that.
I smile again. And for a moment, I forget about the death-glaring goalkeeper I have to deal with tomorrow. I forget the stress, the comments, the fact that my job has officially turned into a hot man babysitting service.
For now, there’s just this, a quiet space, a glowing screen, and someone on the other side who already makes me feel … seen.