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"What? It's not like you're going to respond to him anyway. You're too hung up on Tattoo Boy."

He wasn't wrong, but I still felt a flutter of interest as I read Alex's messages. There was something appealing about the easy banter, the confidence it took to track me down on Facebook rather than just swiping right and hoping for a match. And it was so much easier to be witty and flirtatious online, where there was no risk of stumbling over my words or revealing how much of a mess I was in real life.

Reality, however, had a way of humbling me. Just as I was about to take my phone back and respond to Alex myself, it started ringing in James's hand. The screen displayed a name that made my stomach drop: Matt.

I reached out and snatched the phone from James, staring at the screen as if it might bite me.

"Don't answer it," James said immediately. "He ghosted you, babe. You deserve so much better." He paused, then added with a smirk, "Plus, Alex can hold his breath..."

I took a deep breath and answered the call, putting it on speaker. I didn't trust myself to hold the phone to my ear without giving away how much his silence had affected me.

"Hello?" I said, aiming for casual but landing somewhere closer to tense.

"Hey, babe," Matt's voice came through, warm and familiar as if he hadn't disappeared for three days. "You working tonight?Wanna grab dinner at my place? My mom is cooking and wants to meet you."

I blinked, momentarily speechless. His mom wanted to meet me? After three days of radio silence, he was inviting me to a family dinner like nothing had happened?

James was making frantic cutting motions across his throat, silently urging me to hang up or say no. But my heart—my stupid, hopeful heart—was already racing at the sound of Matt's voice.

"Sure," I heard myself say, before my brain could formulate the response I should have given.

"Great! I'll text you the address. 6 PM okay? You can stay over."

I sighed, resignation settling over me like a heavy blanket. "Sure."

"See you then," he said, and then he was gone, leaving me staring at my phone in confusion.

James was looking at me with a mixture of disbelief and concern. "Please tell me you're not actually going."

I didn't answer, my attention caught by a new Facebook message from Alex.

I'm free all week, so I'm happy to take you out to dinner anytime you're free.

"Fuck," I muttered, dropping my head into my hands.

"What's it going to be, Geri?" James asked softly. "The guy who keeps disappearing on you, or the one who's actually making an effort?"

It was a good question. A fair question. And I had no idea how to answer it.

On one hand, there was Matt—intense, passionate, complicated Matt, who made my heart race and my body sing,but who couldn't seem to remember I existed when we weren't physically in the same room.

On the other hand, there was Alex—a complete stranger who'd gone out of his way to find me, who was funny and forward in a way that intrigued rather than repelled me, who was offering a fresh start with no emotional baggage.

"I already said yes to Matt," I said finally, though the words felt hollow even to my own ears.

James sighed. "You can cancel. Say you're sick. Say you have to work. Say anything."

"And then what? Go out with some guy I've never met, who might be a complete psychopath for all I know?"

"As opposed to the guy who's definitely an emotional terrorist?" James countered. "At least give Alex a chance. Talk to him a bit more, see if there's something there."

I glanced at my phone, where Alex's message still waited for a response. It would be so easy to say yes, to explore this new possibility, to see if there was something—anything—that could help me forget about Matt.

But even as I considered it, I knew I wouldn't. Because despite everything, despite the ghosting and the confusion and the inevitable heartbreak looming on the horizon, I couldn't get Matt out of my system. Not yet.

"I'll go to dinner," I said, more to myself than to James. "I'll hear what he has to say. And if he can't give me a good explanation for disappearing again, then... then I'll consider my options."

James looked sceptical but didn't push. "Your funeral," he said, standing up and checking his watch. "Break's over. Try not to stab any customers with your fork."