“Fine. I’ll just ignore her message if she sends one back.”
“No, you won’t!”
Chelsea sounded far from resolute. Her voice was more playful than forceful, but Morgun had a feeling her best friend was right. If Laney messaged back, she probably wouldn’t be able to resist.
Chapter 3
Laney
It wasn’t like Laney was desperate or anything. She wasn’t logging into the account she’d made for herself on a huge dating website—she figured there would be more anonymity in a massive database—with dwindling hopes or sweaty palms or a lump in her throat. No, she wasn’t desperate. She certainly didn’t have high hopes for a dating site, fake date or otherwise. She hadn’t lost sleep or anything. She wasn’t distracted at work.
It just happened to be midnight, and Laney found herself logging into the account she’d unfortunately created. She’d chosen not to pay for a premium account, seeing as she planned on using the site only once and then forgetting she’d ever been put in that position.
She wasn’t sure anyone would actually send her a message. How many women would there be on the site, however large it was, looking for other women? How many would respond to her barely discernable photo? Would there be anyone who recognized who she was?
Dear God, I hope not.
As soon as Laney logged on, she was surprised to see three notifications and the messages icon lit up with the number twenty-one. Twenty-one messages in a day and a half? Was that possible? How many of them were serious? Was she doing this just for some peace? Would her mom even hold up her end of the deal?
Yes. At least she knew that much for certain. Her mom didn’t go back on her word. Ever. Even if she suspected that her date wasn’t legit, Laney could argue her way into not being badgered about dating and kids for a good while.
So, yes, she really was doing this.
Laney’s finger hovered over her tablet. This is stupid. I’ve never had a problem reading criticism of my work or even getting angry emails. I’ve never had a problem diffusing a situation. I can get along with anyone, even all the assholes out there in the industry. I can smile and nod and sell the shit out of myself. Why the heck can’t I read through a few messages that I don’t even have to respond to?
Finally, she forced herself to stab at the envelope icon. The inbox looked just like any other email inbox she’d ever used. Messages. Subjects. Ordered with time and date. Profile names.
Laney pressed the first message. All it said was, Hi.
Who sent a meaningless, one-word message? Disgusted, she deleted it instantly.
The next two weren’t much better. They might have had more words, but they meant pretty much the same thing. Most were little more than a, Hey, how’s it going? No information about themselves, no invite to check out their profile, nothing. Laney didn’t think it was possible for people who were less serious about dating than herself to be on the site, but apparently it was full of people who weren’t really even looking if the level of work put into these messages was anything to go by.
Laney went through the inbox, deleting message after message. She did click on a few profiles, but those women struck her as the hopeless romantic types, not the kind who would meet up with her and let her explain what she was really looking for. She couldn’t very well write in her profile that she was looking for a one-off appearance, totally faked, and she was willing to pay. That just sounded bad. Even in person, it would probably sound bad, but at least she could test the waters and explain in a way that someone would maybe understand.
I should have tried the bar. That conversation would go over much better when both people are tanked.
A horrible sensation crept up on her with every single message she deleted. Despair. Maybe even panic. There wasn’t a single appropriate response out of the sixteen she’d read so far. She assumed her profile would get more attention the day it was posted. It was already Saturday night. Too late to go out to the bar and find someone. Her brother’s wedding was next Saturday. She couldn’t just go out on Friday night and try to bring someone to it the next day. She knew she’d be required to participate in the family dinner and the get-together the night before the wedding. She needed someone now.
She knew she should just up and tell her mom to quit bothering her, but she’d done that a thousand times, in a thousand ways, and nothing worked. This was the olive branch, of sorts, that she’d been waiting for, and she’d grasp at it like it was her last hope in the world. And it might be.
Laney deleted two more messages, then clicked on one of the remaining three. It was from Unicornspooprainbowsandsprinkles498 and was surprisingly lengthy and thorough, compared to the other ones she’d received.
Hi,
Everyone probably starts with hi. Sorry. I don’t really know how else to initiate a message on this rather awkward platform. So, I’ll start with hi, but I won’t end with it. I read through your profile. I have to admit, I’m intrigued. I’m not one of those die-hard romantics, but even I have to admit that I like a good wedding once in a while to remind me that there is indeed hope for humanity, or the heart, at least. I’m not really into making promises I can’t keep so I like that you said you’d see where it goes. No pressure. I guess that’s why people do the online dating thing in the first place. Or at least why they choose to meet people that way. No pressure. Pressure ruins everything. Things are awkward enough. Everything is hard. Meeting people. Relationships. Feelings. I guess the online stuff is supposed to break the ice in a way that both people can stand instead of floundering and gasping for breath in the cold, cold waters of making an acquaintance. If you’d like to go for coffee one day, even if it’s at night, since coffee seems more harmless, while dinner and drinks can turn into disaster, then I’d be up for it. Let me know.
What kind of a name was Unicornspooprainbowsandsprinkles498? She was surprised that it even got past the team who approved names on the site. Maybe they figured it was cute and trendy and not at all offensive. Because if unicorns were real, they probably did poop rainbows and sprinkles. No one could prove otherwise.
Laney considered responding. She gave it a few minutes of thought then exited out and read the other messages. She ended up deleting both of them. She was left with just the one.
She finally clicked on the profile. The only two photos of the woman, who she guessed to be about twenty-five or twenty-six, were selfies. Laney detested selfies. Even the word was stupid. The woman though? Miss Unicornspooprainbowsandsprinkles498 was beautiful. It was hard for Laney not to look at her with an experienced photographer’s eye.
She knew she could make this lady look phenomenal in photos. She had the delicate bone structure and pixie face that would come out perfect in black-and-white shots. Her long, ash blonde hair would frame her face, no fan or sticky hairspray needed. No makeup either, for that matter. Laney would make those small, nearly imperceptible freckles pop right out. She’d make those green eyes come alive, even in black and white. Or maybe she would go with color. Bring out the golden flecks in those jade greens. Laney was sure that either way, this woman would be a natural. She was gorge
ous. It was entirely beyond her why she needed to be looking for a match online when both men and women probably lusted after her regularly.
Maybe she’s shy. It’s hard to meet people nowadays. Maybe she doesn’t like being lusted over. Maybe she finds that as annoying as I do when Mom bugs me about popping out grandchildren like I’m a freaking gumball machine. Insert a quarter, and out rolls a baby. Ha. If only it was that easy. No. Even if it was, I still wouldn’t be on board.