Troublemaker - Kayley Loring Page 0,42
do I have to pick one?”
“Okay, remember this—the password is Bluewaffles123, with a capital ‘b.’ Will you remember that?”
“Bluewaffles123,” he repeats. “And for his picture?”
“Do you have one?”
“I want to use the one I did of him today.”
We both look over at the Art Wall. He drew a picture of his dad that’s so freaking cute it actually made me tear up a little. And Google Alex Vega as soon as I could.
“Do you want me to take a picture of the drawing?”
“Yeah.”
“Are you sure you don’t want to use an actual photograph of him?”
He waves his hand dismissively. “Nah, it doesn’t matter.”
“If you say so.” I take a picture of the drawing with my phone and then upload it to the website once it’s in the Photos library on my laptop. “This is the best dating profile picture I’ve ever seen.”
“Are you on here too?” he asks, coming around to my side of the desk and resting his elbows on it.
“Nope. I don’t use dating websites.”
“Why not? Do you already have a boyfriend?”
“Nope. But remember what we talked about on the first day of school?”
He slaps his forehead. “Oh yeah! Sorry.”
“It’s fine. But since it’s not class time right now, I will tell you that I do not have a boyfriend. Are you sure your dad isn’t seeing anyone?”
“Oh yeah. I’m sure. Is it set up yet?”
“Nope. We have to answer a bunch of questions.”
“Like what?”
“Well there’s a whole bunch of them, and then depending on how you answer them, that’s how they find a match—or a whole bunch of matches—for your dad.”
He shrugs. “Okay.”
“Sooooo, did your dad tell you that he wants to find a girlfriend? Like, did he say that recently? Like since before Halloween week? Is that why you’re doing this? I mean, you don’t have to tell me. But I should probably know since I’m helping you with this.” I’m pretty sure I sounded super casual asking that.
“I asked him yesterday if he has a girlfriend.”
“And he definitely said no? Because he could still be dating someone. Or several people.”
“He’s always at home with me. Or driving me places. He says he’s busy working on something.”
“But you’re at school for most of the day. He might be seeing someone during the day, when you’re not around.”
He watches me, so closely that it creeps me out. “I just want him to be happy, Miss Stiles. He’s a really good dad. And I want him to have a nice girlfriend.”
“Well, like I said, that is very sweet of you. He’s lucky to have you.”
“Can we hurry up and get to the questions now?”
“Yeah… Okay, what would you say your dad is all about? Like, how would you describe him to someone? Or I guess, how would he describe himself to someone? Because it’s supposed to be him answering these questions…”
19
Alex
FROM: [email protected]
Subject: How’s it going, loverboy?
Just checking in to see if you’re already engaged thanks to the WooHooCupid profile I helped your son create for you during school hours. If so, you’re welcome. If not…maybe you should consider changing your profile picture.
Best,
Emilia
I have no idea what the fuck she’s talking about. But it’s been a while since I’ve heard from her, so I’m still somehow turned-on by three weird sentences and an emoji. As much as I want to respond immediately, I better find out what I’m dealing with here first.
“Ryder…” I get no response because he’s watching Pokémon. Time to switch on the Dad Voice. “Ryder! Get in here.”
“What? It’s almost over.”
“Pause it. Now.”
I stare at the email, checking for a naked photo attachment, but as always, there isn’t one.
He stomps into the kitchen, barefoot, his head and arms hanging limp. “Whaaaaaat? Is dinner ready?”
“Did you set up a WooHooCupid profile?”
I watch as about fifteen different expressions flicker across his face, and the one that finally sticks is: ohhhhh shit. “Oh yeah.” He grins. “I forgot about that!” He throws his hands up in the air and then scratches his head. “Don’t be mad, okay? I can explain.”
The seven words every parent loves to hear.
He grabs the laptop from the kitchen desk area and brings it over to me, opening it up and typing in a web address with his index fingers. “I didn’t make it go alive yet, so it doesn’t count.”
“What doesn’t count?”
He types in the login, because of course a seven-year-old would have a login for a dating website. “I made you a new email account first,” he informs me, in the