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I never told you he was pretty.

Mama:

You didn’t have to. You told me long hair and tattoos and I got the picture.

Me:

Mama:

Why aren’t you dating him?

Me:

Because he’s my neighbor, Ma. We’re just friends.

Mama:

isn’t there another one? Or did I make that up?

I needed to make a friend. Or ten. My mama knew too much about my daily encounters with Noah and Greyson.

Me:

If you must know, one of them did ask me to go to a wedding reception with them. But we’re going as friends.

Daddy:

I remember when your mother and I were friends.

Mama:

Don’t forget to set up your profile

I liked the message and watched as another one rolled in.

Mama:

And don’t forget to bring your own condoms. You never know what these men will try.

I groaned. Why had she sent that in the group chat?

My dads had two very different reactions.

My phone notified me that “Daddy” had emphasized my mother’s message and

“Dad” had left the group chat.

I finally closed the thread and smiled at my screen for a beat.

Was my family heavy handed with a side of meddlesome? Yes. But I loved them for it.

Before I fell asleep that night, I downloaded two dating apps and set up my profiles, frowning when I noticed how far back I had to scroll in my camera roll for a good full body picture of myself. I used to do stuff. Go outside and be seen. Before mymind could take a raggedy detour to grief, I pushed the thoughts away and focused on creating my profiles.

Operation: Get Laid and Write This Damn Book was officially underway.

“What happened to you?” Greyson started his question when he was in the hall, still a couple steps away from my room and finished it when he stood in my doorway, his eyes touching every corner of my space before they sought me out.

His expectant gaze settled on me and I met it before looking away.