Best Friends Don't Kiss(34)

It’s dumb. But he puts up with me, and I put up with him. It’s how we work.

Of course, my mom responds with another three texts about a guy who doesn’t exist and whose name I don’t know because he doesn’t exist, but I act like a child and ignore them.

Sheesh, Ava. This is starting to get really sad.

I wholeheartedly agree with my inner subconscious, but that doesn’t stop my TapNext progress. With one quick tap of my index finger, I pull up the app and go to my ever-changing list of potential matches. The first man on the list is a thirty-two-year-old guy named Henry. He’s not drop-dead gorgeous, but he’s not bad-looking either. I scroll down to his bio and read.



I’m looking for a beautiful woman who is sweet and kind and healthy.

Must-haves: honesty, kindness, both kidneys, be a nonsmoker and a nondrinker, have never used drugs, and loves working out and taking care of herself. Type O negative, preferred.



Holy moly. Is it just me, or is Henry planning on stealing someone’s organs?

Without hesitation, I decline his match and head to the next guy on the list.



Andrew, 39

I’m a nice guy and an entrepreneur who has absolutely no interest in committing murder. I’m looking for a special someone to spend my life with, but obviously, we’ll start with a lovely evening that will one-hundred-percent end with you back at your house safely! Because, again, I have no intention of committing murder.

Also, jail isn’t all that bad. And I’d like the record to show that I wasn’t guilty that one time I was arrested and had to do five years.



What is with these guys? Why are they advertising their vices so obviously? Andrew clearly actually wants to murder someone.

Next option, please!



Mike, 35





Life is all about goals.


Here are my top 3 goals:

To hold a massive python or anaconda or any huge snake, really.

One time, to find out what it feels like to have insects on me naked.

Breed Labrador retrievers.





Jesus.

I’m really beginning to understand why Carrie Bradshaw had such a hard time finding a guy in New York. I used to think she was a lunatic for being so obsessed with Mr. Big when he kept letting her down over and over and over again, but now, it’s starting to all make sense.

At this rate, with these online dating pool options, I’m either going to bring home a serial killer, some guy with an animal fetish, or have to resort to calling Boat-Lover Brian back up and asking him for a second chance.

Sheesh. Where are all the good, normal single men in New York?

Well, one of them—who just so happens to be one of the best guys you know—literally lives across the hall from you, you almost tried to kiss him the other night, and you friend-zoned him years ago…

I exhale a deep sigh.

I did not try to kiss Luke Friday night. I just got a little too cozy with his hand on my face. I’m chalking it up to a lack of affection in general. I mean, it’s been a long while since I’ve felt someone else’s touch.

Ava, it’s safe to say all the “find a boyfriend” pressure is starting to get to you.

Instantly, I close out of the TapNext app, slide my phone back into my blazer pocket, and stand up and stretch my arms above my head.

I have to do something else. Anything else. Besides this.

I glance at the clock on my desk and see it’s only a little after ten. I still have another two hours before I’m supposed to meet Claire and Desi.

Instead of wallowing until my lunch date with the girls and reliving memories of Mark talking about his pussy breath, I choose to do something productive. Destination confirmed, I head out of my office and toward the South Wing.

Surely, what I’ll find there will be enough to take the edge off my weird-as-fuck mood.

A girl can hope, right?




“So, how’s online dating going?”

Of. Fucking. Course. It only took ten minutes into lunch with my best gal pals before this dreaded subject came up. The one I’ve been trying not to think about for the past few hours.

I sigh and drop my forehead onto the table. “Horrible,” I mutter and glance up at my friends. “I’ve been on four dates, and every single one has been an absolute dud.”

“Four dates?” Desi’s eyes turn skeptical. “It’s been almost three weeks, and you’ve only been on four dates?”

“Yes. Four dates.” I lift my head off the table and narrow my eyes at her. “Which feels like an eternity when you’re stuck at dinner with some guy named Brian who talks about his sailboat like he wants to fuck it. Or Mr. Pussy Breath, who was appalled I didn’t give myself the gift of his tongue.”

Claire bursts out into laughter.

Desi grins. “Well, that’s disturbing.”

“Yeah, tell me about it,” I respond through a sigh. “The odds of me finding someone to bring home for the holidays, my baby sister’s wedding, and that stupid reunion are looking dismal.”

“It can’t be that bad,” Desi chimes in. “I’m sure there’re other guys out there. You just have to try a little harder.”

“Try a little harder?” I repeat. “Des, I’ve scoured that dating app. Looked at what feels like over a thousand profiles, and unless I want to bring an ax murderer home for the holidays, I think I might be shit out of luck.”