One date. Wrong match.
When the raven-haired beauty popped up on my phone as a match, I had to have her. She became a fast obsession, one I couldn’t get out of my head. Our first date was a disaster. But when it came to sex, we made sense. So, we came up with an arrangement–sex with no strings attached.
Everything was working out until she became my new employee. I was supposed to train her, show her the ropes. But she made it impossible to stay away. The closer we worked, the more I realized maybe we were the perfect match. She just didn’t know it yet.
My cell phone dings with another match. I slide my finger along the screen to open the app and stare at Ava’s picture. Long black hair, denim-colored eyes, pale skin, and nice, plump lips stare back at me. She’s a twenty-six-year-old student from New York who recently relocated to Philadelphia.
Her profile ends with a line that makes me laugh. “If you’re looking for a good time, call 867-5309.” Like the song by Tommy Tutone. How clever. That wouldn’t work on everyone, but it sure does with me. Ava is not only beautiful and smart, she’s also funny. I like her.
After I click the button to verify our match, it seems like hours before my phone dings again with Match accepted. I suck in a deep breath, thinking of something interesting to say. Nothing comes to mind.
Me: Hey! Nice profile. I tried to call the number, but it was busy.
I clutch the phone in my hand and wait, watching as the chat bubble pops up. She’s typing. Thirty seconds later a message appears.
Ava: The second I hang up with one guy another calls. You wouldn’t believe all the calls I get.
Me: Funny girl.
Ava: I amuse myself.
Me: I’m entertained. Dinner this Friday?
Ava: Depends. Are you a serial killer?
Me: Only on the weekends.
Ava: I guess we should change our dinner until Monday then. Just in case.
Me: We could move it up to Thursday. I get tired after all those kills.
Ava: At least you’re not boring.
Me: Did I pass the test?
Ava: I guess. You’re a doctor, right?
Me: A surgeon. So, dinner this week?
Ava: As long as you’re not the Hannibal Lecter kind of doctor and plan to surgically remove my kidneys.
I shake my head, laughing, and type out a quick reply.
Me: You’ve got a thing for serial killers, huh?
Ava: You have no idea the kind of dates I have been on lately. A girl’s gotta have standards.
Me: Like not getting eaten.
Ava: Lol at least not in that kind of way.
Ooh, she’s dirty. I like it.
Before I can respond, another message comes through.
Ava: How about drinks? The Fountain Lounge at seven on Thursday. Dinner afterward if you’re lucky.
Me: Perfect. See you then.
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