openly stare. He had jet-black hair and wore a button-down shirt tucked into dark washed jeans. His arms looked muscled even through the fabric of his shirt, and his stomach was flat and hard, not a hint of unfit abs anywhere. He wore a watch on his wrist that even from a distance looked expensive, but no wedding ring, Emma noticed. The bartender served him a top-shelf rye on the rocks. The man took a sip as he pulled out his phone.
This is why we have to use apps all the time, Emma lamented. We don’t see who’s right in front of us.
It reminded Emma of the time her mother asked her why she didn’t just go out with her friends to meet someone. This was why, she inwardly groaned. All the best prospects kept their noses in their phones. Her own phone dinged with an incoming alert, and she grabbed it from the bar. Maybe it was Mr. Happy Fun Time.
She glanced at her phone and saw a message from Nost all right, but it hadn’t come from Happy Fun Time. It had come from “Mr. X,” the same profile that had popped up earlier yesterday. Emma saw a timer already going on the profile signaling how much time she had to reply. Emma also noticed he had both a v and c next to his name: verified and clear, she remembered. Good. That was good.
Just wanted to say hi, since you’re in my neighborhood.
Neighborhood? Huh?
How did you know that? She typed quickly, glancing around, almost as if she’d find someone staring at her.
The maps feature? He offered.
Emma literally smacked her own forehead. Of course. The “who’s closest to me on Nost right now” map. Or, as she liked to think about it, the I have to get laid right now and anybody will do, ANYBODY in a one square mile area feature. She glanced at the map and saw the markers and realized about a dozen Nost users were in the vicinity, hell, the very building she was in. But I’m in a hotel, so duh. She tried to figure out where Mr. X might be, but couldn’t quite make it out. There were so many little triangles, they all overlapped in one big blob.
What does Mr. X stand for? she asked.
X factor. Of course. Besides—Tall Dark and Handsome was already taken.
She had to grin. Confidence was sexy. She took a look at his picture. Wow. Mr. X only just scratched the surface. Jet-black hair...amazing hazel eyes...smooth complexion with just the hint of stubble on his strong chin. He looked vaguely familiar. Why did he look so familiar?
A new message popped up from Mr. X.
Want to grab a drink? You’re right here. As in...literally...right here.
She felt the heavy weight of a stranger’s gaze on her. She glanced up and saw Mr. Must Be Famous raising his glass in her direction. Mr. X...was him. A shock of surprise and delight ran through her. The gorgeous man next to her was on...Nost. Well, maybe Sarah had been right. Maybe this wasn’t such a crazy idea after all.
He was even better looking than his profile picture, and his profile picture was darn near perfect. Mr. X flashed a bright white smile and Emma felt her stomach tighten. Would she join him for a drink? She was sorely tempted. Maybe she should. What did she have to lose?
Emma grabbed her drink and caught movement from the corner of her eye. She hoped it was Mr. X, but instead, she turned to see the tourist in the Cardinals getup standing right in front of her, blocking her path. He sent her a goofy, bent-toothed smile and she grabbed her phone.
“Hey.” The tourist plopped down on the stool next to hers. He had some nerve, especially since he was decked out head to toe in her least favorite team of all time. Her family had been die-hard Cubs fans for as long as she could remember. She was sure if she lived in St. Louis, she’d have a closet full of Cardinals jerseys, but even she wouldn’t be rude enough to wear one deep in enemy territory. Plus, he had to be...fiftyish? Her dad’s age? Older? He certainly carried a lot of extra weight, too. And were those white sneakers he was wearing? And white socks. She felt a creep of revulsion down the small of her back. Ugh. Just...ugh.
“Uh...oh. Hi.” Emma glanced up briefly and then tried to look for Mr. X, over his shoulder. Mr. X frowned, clearly annoyed by the interruption, but he calmly took a sip of his drink. Mentally, Emma sent him a what’s up with this dude? vibe.
Emma didn’t want to be rude, but...she really didn’t want to talk to the tourist. She knew that probably made her one of the snobby city folk her relatives were always complaining about, but sheesh. He was wearing a Cardinals baseball hat deep in Cubs territory. Plus, who wore a baseball cap to the Ritz-Carlton?
“Are you...Kitten?”
Emma froze. Her Nost name. “How did you...” She glanced once more at the man, who had a day’s worth of stubble on his double chin. He looked like no picture she’d seen on the app. And she’d flipped through plenty.
“I’m Happy Fun Time.”
Emma could feel all the blood drain out of her face. This guy, this older...much heavier-set guy, with the white tube socks, looked literally nothing like his picture because she realized he’d used a photo of someone else.
He grinned, showing crooked, yellowed teeth. And, she got the whiff of stale cigarette smoke. Ugh. If the Cardinals jersey wasn’t enough of a deal breaker, this would be. For sure.
“You look just like your picture,” he said, beaming, looking pleased.
That’s because I’m actually in my picture, she wanted to say but didn’t.
“So, I got us a nice hotel room...”
Emma’s jaw dropped. “Here?” she squeaked, glancing at his worn sneakers. How could he afford a room at the Ritz-Carlton?
“Oh, God, no,” he said, shaking his head. “Can’t afford here. There’s a Motel 6, just off the expressway a little ways out of town. If we get in my car now...”
Emma suddenly had visions of duct tape and chloroform. She tried to get Mr. X’s attention, but now he had his eyes on his phone. Argh. She wondered if he was scouting the room for other Nost possibilities.
“Look...you’ve gotten the wrong idea,” she said, trying to be nice but firm. There was no way she was going anywhere with this guy. No way. He needed to leave. She needed to go to Mr. X. That was a Nost date she wouldn’t mind.
But Mr. Happy Fun Time stood, and reached out to grasp her elbow. She tugged her arm away, just out of his reach. No way was he touching her.
“What’s the problem, baby?” He moved closer to her and the acrid scent of burnt tobacco got stronger.
She actually leaned back away from him, fighting the urge to flat-out flee.
“Look, you seem nice, but I don’t think there’s a connection. I think...” You are totally disgusting and you put up a bogus picture and there’s no way I’m going to spend five minutes with you, much less an evening.
Happy Fun Time frowned. “You said you wanted to meet.” He acted as if that entitled him to see her naked.
“Yes, but...”
“So, what’s your problem? You a tease?” His
