The Lying Hours - Sara Ney Page 0,5

any of these guys in person, but what’s the harm in looking?”

“Focus, Sky. You’re the one who said you wanted to put yourself out there. Well, this would be you putting yourself out there.”

“We’ll help you.”

I laugh and pop another fry into my mouth. “No thanks. If I’m going to do this, I’m doing it without the three of you.”

Hannah’s smirk is smug. “So you’re going to do it?”

Shit. They just trapped me into it. Damn them.

“I’ll think about it.”

“It’s freeeee,” Jessica sing-songs, knowing I’m a cheapskate who pinches every penny. I get an allowance from my parents occasionally but try not to spend it on booze, parties, or frivolities.

Like dating apps.

So many of them cost money.

“I said I would think about it—don’t push.”

“Yeah yeah, you’re gonna do it. Stop denying it.” Jessica digs in her backpack for a notebook and pen. “Can we at least help you write the bio?”

“Could you not?” Lord knows what it would say. “And I haven’t even created a profile yet, so cool your jets.”

She stuffs her notebook back into her bag. “Fine. Promise us you’ll at least let us see it before you post it.”

We’ll see.

BlueAsTheSky, 21.

I stare at the fake name I created, not wild about using my real one, and smile. I like it. It’s playful and gives a little hint about who the real me is.

If I actually start chatting with a guy, he can learn my name. Until then, he’s stuck only knowing the nickname.

Let’s see, what else can I tell people about myself…what else, what else…

I stare at my tiny phone screen, at the three photos I uploaded. None of them are full face shots; my face is half cut off in every single one. God forbid some dude recognizes me on campus and tries to hit on me in real life.

Or announces to everyone that he’s seen me on LoveU.

I would die.

I run through a bio that goes something like this:

My friends said I need to put myself out there, so here I am, putting myself out there. Hey there. I’m only outgoing once I get to know someone. Slender. Love going to the movies, esp. chick flicks. You are: tall and funny. Not sarcastic funny, but the haha kind of funny. I can’t promise to laugh at you, but you can try to amuse me.

Shit. That’s not good—I sound kind of bitchy. Plus, I’m almost out of characters and need to shorten it up.

It takes me another half an hour to get it the way I want it, another few minutes to edit and finalize the photos, and no time at all to press publish.

I am live on LoveU.

My stomach does a somersault, butterflies balancing on the uneven bars, wings fluttering in the breeze.

I want to vomit.

The first ten guys who swipe on my profile aren’t keepers; I delete them immediately without reading their information. Okay, I’ll admit it, I’m judging them based on appearances.

So I want to be sexually attracted to my partner—sue me! I want to take one look at him and know. Or at least kind of know. I want to feel the butterflies dance when I meet him for the first time, and I won’t want to meet him at all if my girl parts don’t tingle at least a little when I see his profile picture.

Is that so wrong?

My phone pings with a notification from LoveU with another match. He sends me a message almost immediately, and I groan, already sensing this isn’t going to be a match. Knew it the second I swiped on him but curious enough to give him a chance.

Luke: Sup

Me: Not much, what are you up to?

Luke: Nothing

I wait and wait for more words from Luke, but none come. Rack my brain for something new and original to say. I mean, if he doesn’t want to talk, why did he message me?

I stare, wondering if Luke is familiar with the standard flow of a conversation, how it’s his turn to ask a question to keep the chat going. Swiping my thumb over his photo, I open his profile and scan it. Pretty basic, not much detail, nothing really to go on, and apparently, he has no desire to talk. Name, age, and one line: Don’t bore me.

I delete Luke and find six more connections when I swipe myself back to the home page. Drag my finger over a kid named Eric, 21. He’s a finance major with a handsome face and dimples. His first photograph is