Page 6 of Desserts for Stressed People

“She’s one hundred percent your opposite,” Emma says with a mischievous grin, staring at the screen. She turns it to me, and Olivia smiles back from my phone.

I love this picture of her. I took it the day of her graduation, eight years ago. She is wearing a red cocktail dress, holding a bottle of champagne ready to pop, and laughing at something off-camera.That was one of the last nights the three of us spent together before she relocated to Sydney for her fancy new job.

There is no doubt Alex will find her attractive. Olivia is gorgeous.For the longest time, I wished I had cocoa-brown curls like hers, which bounce in all directions as she walks, her tanned skin and her captivating, cat-like eyes.

Maybe I should ask Olivia if I can steal her pictures to get my boyfriend on the hook, but there’s a fourteen-hour time difference between us, and she’s probably sleeping. Plus, Emma, Olivia, and I have been friends since forever. I know she won’t mind me telling her tomorrow. Actually, if she were here, she’d encourage me.

“Go for it,” I say in a firm voice.

“Okay. How’s this?” She shows me the screen of my phone, and I glance at the words she typed in Nevaeh’s description.

Looking for fun, no serious commitment. Hit me up if you’re also taking a break from your life!

“Subtle,” I comment with a glare.

“I wasn’t trying to be subtle.”

With a pointed look, I tap my fingers on the edge of the table. “What now?”

Emma shrugs. “Now, you add some more pictures and start swiping until you find your couch-potato of a boyfriend.”

I drink the rest of my sangria in a gulp, my stomach twisting as I contemplate what a terrible idea this is. Assuming we’ll match, how will I text with my boyfriend without him figuring out it’s me? And how can I flirt with him, knowing he’s a cheater and a liar? Maybe Emma should do it instead. “How long will it take to find him?” I ask, moving toward the fridge for a refill. “Isn’t there like a million people on these apps?”

“We’ll put some filters. His exact age, and a small mile radius. I can’t guarantee it, but you should find him.”

I take a deep breath as I sit back down.

“Plus, you never know. Maybe you’ll meet someone too.”

I sputter a weird, high-pitched noise, and when Emma greets me with a raised brow, I scoff. “You meanNevaehwill find someone too.”

Emma shakes her head with a soft laugh. “Oh, right. Well, take it as practice. If there’s anything you like in here”—she points at the phone and shrugs—“you can come back as yourself.”

I roll my eyes as she finishes setting up the profile, and my stomach tightens once she hands me back the phone. I’m officially a casual-fun, no-commitments brunette.

Nevaeh.

* * *

I stumblethrough the door to my apartment sometime after ten, my nose scrunching at the plates pile on the kitchen table and Alex’s socks and shoes, abandoned near the couch. It becomes difficult to swallow the saliva my mouth suddenly fills with.

He knows mess triggers me, and he takes my obsession with tidiness as an excuse to leave his stuff around. “You like cleaning anyway,” he always says, and he’s right. Yet it unnerves me that he’s taking advantage of it.

It didn't bother methismuch. Not until yesterday, at least. Not before I found out he’s on the lookout for hookups. But now—now it kills me a little.

With a sigh, I pick up the socks and throw them in the laundry bin. As I’m walking to the sink with the plates in hand, he enters the kitchen and goes for the fridge.

“Hey, you’re back.”

I give him a stiff nod.

“Were you with Emma?”

“Yes.”

His lips purse. “Was someone else there?”

Unbelievable. Is heseriouslyasking me this question? “Why? Are you afraid I might cheat on you?”