Page 58 of Penalty Shot

“Hey!” Gordon complains.

“Did you seriously try to pick her up on a dating app?”

“Nah, man. I was scrolling and saw her. Surprised me, to be honest. Thought you had that locked down.”

“Show me.” I’m gripping his phone so tightly, the screen could crack.

“I’ll have you know that it is a violation of privacy rights to share users’ personal information without permission,” he yaps in a snotty tone. “Profiles must be handled responsibly to avoid eroding the trust of users in—”

“Cut the bullshit. I know you saved it.”

“I saved it.” Gordon holds his palm out for me to return his phone. He pulls up a bunch of screenshots and instructs me to scroll.

I stare down at a picture of her on a patio wearing a white shirt and denim shorts. Her tanned legs are crossed, and dark hair falls around her shoulders.

Elise is girl-next-door perfection in the palm of my hand. I bet she’s breaking this dating site with that smile alone. There are bits of her written profile for me to read. Something about being a bookworm and theater fan.

Before I flip to the next picture, my thumb pauses.

“This is wrong,” I state and close my eyes.

I’m not meant to look at this. Even if it is a public website, the fact that I’m seeing it through a friend’s phone is creepy as fuck, right?

“Take it away from me.”

“You sure? The fourth picture is on the beach.”

My eyes fly open, and I grab his shirt roughly. “Are you telling me you saved a picture of Elise in a bathing suit?”

“A string bikini, actually.”

I go after his phone again. “I swear to god if you don’t delete these right fucking now—”

“I’m kidding!”

Before I’m further tempted by the pulse-pounding need to see Elise—fuck I should have taken a picture of her in that red dress—I point at Gordon’s face.

“Delete the screenshots and leave me alone.”

He snickers but goes through the motions of pressing his screen. He lifts it to show that his picture gallery is clear of Elise.

“Happy now?”

“Ecstatic.”

“You know what I think?”

“Not sure I can stop you from telling me.”

“Keep it simple. Tell her you want to be with her for real.”

I roll my eyes before closing them as if I plan to nap, though sleep is far from reach. With only the hum of the plane to ground me in the moment, my mind roams to Elise.

The second we won game four, I wanted to call her.

Does that mean I want to be with herfor real, like Gordon suggested? What does that even mean for a guy like me who has never dated seriously? What if she’s not interested in me that way? How can she take me seriously when I’ve only ever been a hookup?

And yet resuming casual sex doesn’t seem possible when she returns to Columbus. Her rules worked for me at first. Now, I’m not so sure.