Page 5

Chapter five

Finn

After leaving Hudson and Daphne’s, I drove back to Mom and Dad’s house, where dinner was waiting on the table, and that’s a win.

I lean back in my chair, plate now cleared. “How’s the season looking?” I ask my dad.

He’s been a football coach all my life, and he loves his job at CLU. “Defense needs work. Couple of the freshman think they’re invincible, but we’re winning, so I can’t complain that much.”

“So, same as every year, then?”

He grins. “Pretty much.”

Mom gives him a look as she collects our plates. “You love those kids.”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean they don’t love pushing my buttons.”

I snort. “Especially that linebacker of yours.”

Dad guffaws. “Hudson’s one of my only guys who keeps them in line on the field. He’s gonna go far. Plus, he’s good to Daphne and Rosie.”

I raise my eyebrows, surprised by how honest that sounds from my dad’s mouth. It’s no secret that he was less than thrilled with Hudson when he found out about Daphne and the baby, but I guess it’s all water under the bridge now.

Stretching until my back cracks, I yawn loudly. “God.”

Mom glances over as she clears up our plates. “Long day?”

“Something like that,” I say, rubbing the back of my neck. “Rosie had opinions today. Loud ones.”

Dad snorts from the other side of the kitchen. “Takes after her uncle.”

“Or her grandad,” I say, standing and passing Mom on my way to grab a glass of water. “Need a hand?”

She shakes her head and nudges the dishwasher closed with her hip. “Already done. You heading up?”

“Yeah, I’m pretty beat.” I finish the last gulp.

“Sleep well, sweetheart.”

“Night,” I murmur, giving Dad a lazy wave as I head for the stairs.

The house creaks in all the familiar places as I make my way up, the kind of sounds that used to comfort me when I was younger and still kind of do.

I push open the door to my old room and flick on the light, greeted by a wall of memories I never took down.

Collapsing onto my bed, I look up at the walls covered in posters I’ve outgrown—well, except the ones of Harry Styles…

and maybe Selena Gomez. They can stay—I can’t help but feel like I’m taking huge steps backwards in my life. Harry judges me, I’m sure of it.

Pulling my phone from my pocket to set an alarm for the morning, a new notification flashes across the screen, with a bright neon pink-and-blue banner falls down from the top.

SPARK: You have a new match!

Huh.

I unlock my phone, swiping into the app. I’m met with a new match at the top of my screen.

Foxx has swiped right.

I tap his profile to reveal dark hair, dark-rimmed glasses that highlight the scruff lining his jaw, and the kind of eyes that are deep and would fuck with my head if I stared at them for too long.

His first photo is all rolled-up sleeves and bookish intensity.

Hot. The second is more casual, outdoors, wearing hiking gear.

Okay, he likes being outside, though he has less scruff and looks a little younger there.

The third is just him in a dark sweater, arms crossed.

He’s not smiling in one of them, and still… I definitely feel a tug of interest.

I scroll to his bio.

Name: Foxx

Age: 29

Bio: “I’m allergic to bad grammar and small talk.”

He borderline comes across like a snob. But I like his dry humor. It’s practically foreplay for me. Plus, his name? Big points, makes him hotter.

Another notification pings at the top of my screen.

Foxx

Hey.

Simple. No weird emojis. No what’s up ;) bullshit. I tap the message box, debating my opening move. First impressions matter, even in something as low stakes as a hookup app.

I start typing.

Finn

Hey?

I was expecting something a little more dramatic. Maybe a sonnet. A thesis. Anything.

His reply comes fast.

Foxx

A thesis, really?

Finn

You look like the bookish type.

Foxx

I reserve effort for those who prove they deserve it.

My mouth curves into a grin, leaning back against my headboard. He is a snob.

Finn

So I have to earn my right to be flirted with?

Foxx

Maybe.

Finn

And how exactly do I prove myself worthy, Foxx?

There’s a pause before his next message pops up.

Foxx

Proper syntax. A basic grasp of logic. Low probability of sending me a picture of your dick in the next five messages.

I nearly choke on my tongue.

Finn

Damn. Just when I was about to hit send.

Foxx

A tragedy, truly.

My grin grows effortlessly.

Most of the hookups I’ve had the last year or so have been predictable. But this? The back-and-forth, the quick wit, the underlying bite in his messages, it’s keeping me on my toes already, and we’ve hardly said much.

I type another response.

Finn

So if I pass the no-unsolicited-dick-pic test, what’s next?

Foxx

Then I decide if you’re actually interesting and we’re compatible.

Finn

But what if I have a really pretty dick and that wins you over?

Foxx

Guess you could ruin your chances early on…

Finn

Fine. My dick is away. What qualifies as interesting?

Foxx

Something that won’t make me regret swiping right. I’d like to get to know you.

I take a sip of my water from my nightstand, thinking. I could go the obvious route, say something cocky, tell him I can do that thing with my tongue that makes people forget their own names. But I know already that’ll make him run.

Instead, I type:

Finn

I once surfed a fifteen-foot wave and nearly got taken out by a shark. Kept my balance. Didn’t get eaten. Pretty impressive, right?

There’s a longer pause before his next message appears.

Foxx

Did you spot the shark first or did it spot you?

Finn

Not sure. I like to think we made eye contact and reached an unspoken agreement.

Foxx

Highly unlikely. Sharks don’t negotiate.

Finn

Neither do I, Foxx. Neither do I.

I imagine him sitting wherever he is, reading that message, and rolling his eyes. Even though I have no idea if he’d do that, I’m a visual guy.

Another message pops up.

Foxx

Mildly impressive.

Finn

Damn. That story is usually a win.

Foxx

Okay, maybe I’m more than mildly impressed. So you clearly like surfing, judging by your pictures too…

He didn’t technically ask me a question about surfing, so I don’t feel the need to expand on that little comment yet.

Finn

Now tell me something about you.

The typing bubble appears, disappears, then reappears.

Foxx

I once walked out of a terrible date by pretending I had a math emergency.

Finn

A math emergency? Numbers are your thing?

Foxx

You could say that. Plus, it was the only excuse I could think of that didn’t involve sudden death.

He’s giving me nerdy vibes and, hell, I’m one hundred percent into that. Add that to his profile pic of scruff and glasses, I’m sold.

Finn

So, did the math emergency work?

Foxx

Pretty sure I confused him by talking about topological invariants and their applications in higher-dimensional spaces.

Finn

Because everyone needs to know that, of course. I can imagine his face was probably the same as mine right now.

Foxx

And that is?

Finn

Confused as fuck. But cute.

Foxx

Shame I can’t see.

I grin at my phone again.

Finn

Sounds like you’re fishing for a picture. Worried I’m a catfish?

Foxx

You’d be surprised by the people on these apps. Do you want one of me?

Finn

Sure fuckin’ do. Just no dick pics. I have standards too, y’know.

Foxx

I’d hate to start off on the wrong foot here.

There’s a pause in our back-and-forth, and I don’t want to ask him again for a picture.

If he doesn’t send one, that’s fine; maybe he really is a catfish.

I should send him one... It’s a normal part of this process, but a part of me wants him to go first. A few minutes pass.

The typing bubble appears, disappears, reappears. Finally, my phone pings with an image.

I open it, and immediately my mouth opens into an ‘O’ shape.

Foxx stares straight into the camera, brow slightly furrowed, thick and dark, framing those deep pools of chocolate. And his lips… Fuck, they’re biteable, with a full and pouty bottom lip. He looks serious. And hot. Definitely hot.

I’m already half hard at the thought of him kneeling for me.

No glasses like in his profile picture, which makes his eyes even sharper. Yeah, I can already imagine how his scruff lining his jaw would feel dragged over my skin.

Fuck, that’s exactly what I need.

Foxx

Did it come through on your side?

His message snaps me out of the trance, and I realize I’ve been staring, fantasizing. Shit, that face is trouble.

Finn

Staring because fuck, but yeah, I’d chase after you if you tried to escape a date with me.

Foxx

That’s a concerning level of enthusiasm.

Finn

I can be very persistent when I want something.

Foxx

Dangerous information to give away so soon.

Finn

What can I say? I like to be up front about my intentions.

Foxx

And what exactly are those intentions?

To fuck you senseless and make you scream my name.

But that’s probably a bit too much. I know I’m being cocky and coming on strong, but like Hudson said, this app is a hookup app, and since I’ve downloaded it, he’s the only one who’s held my attention.

Finn

Oh, you know. Just to confirm whether that face looks even better in person.

Foxx

Scientific curiosity?

Finn

Something like that.

Scientifically, I’m wondering how many times we can both get off in one evening.

And I’m hoping a lot.

I open my camera app and smile at my phone. My hair is a mess, but once I’ve run my hand through it… Well, it looks no different. But I take and send the picture anyway with the message…

Finn

So when are we meeting up? I’m way more of a hands-on guy.