Rate a Date by Monica Murphy Page 0,1

mouth hanging open in shock. Holy crap, I need to delete this. Stat. Beyond stat. Like yesterday stat. “What in the world did you do?”

“I did exactly what you just said. Created a profile for you, so you can be on this new dating site,” Kelsey explains, her eyes big, her gaze one of complete and utter innocence.

I’m not buying it. Not for one minute. In fact, I’m fuming mad.

Like, super angry.

Livid, even.

“Kelsey, I am livid.”

Isn’t that a great word? Livid? I never get a chance to use it, considering I’m not what I would call an angry person. I’m usually pretty positive.

“Why? Oh, come on,” Kelsey whines. “You need to give it a chance.”

I read over my info again, getting to the what I’m looking for section.

I’ve discovered that short-term relationships aren’t my thing. I’m an old-fashioned woman looking for a serious relationship. Are you willing to commit? Not afraid of big romantic gestures? Like to read, watch movies and take long walks on the beach? Then I’m your girl. It helps if you’re at least six-foot and physically fit, but still like to eat ice cream and pizza.

Kelsey’s not wrong with this description, but also, she made me sound kind of ridiculous.

“How do I delete this?” I click on the little gear symbol in the top right corner, see the words profile settings and select it.

“No way.” Kelsey snatches the phone out of my hands, smiling at me while I glare. “You’re not deleting it.”

“I don’t want to be on that app,” I tell her, stomping my foot. Considering how loud it currently is in this crowded bar, my stomping is completely ineffective.

“Come on, do it for me. Please?” Kelsey flashes me her puppy-dog eyes and bats her lashes. She’s annoyingly attractive. Plump lips and dark eyes and beautiful silky brown hair. She came into the salon once asking for highlights and I convinced her not to do it. Her hair is gorgeous as is. Instead, I applied a special gloss treatment that made her hair even shinier than usual.

“I don’t believe in dating sites,” I say primly, resting my clutched hands on the table. “Delete it.”

“Give it a month,” she says, sticking out her lower lip in a mock pout. “They let you use the site for free for the first thirty days.”

“No.”

“I’ll do it with you.”

“You were already doing it, whether I was on the app or not.”

She considers me for a moment, and I swear I can see her brain working, trying to come up with a convincing idea. “We could go on double dates together.”

Hmm. That’s not a bad idea. I say nothing, contemplating her offer.

“It’s not a sleazy app, I swear. It’s only been out for a couple of months, and everyone’s raving about it,” she explains.

“It’s called Rate A Date, Kels. Meaning you rate your dates. That sounds like a disaster in the making.”

Now, look. I’m not usually reluctant to put myself out there. I’m the romantic one of our friend group. I believe in true love. I know my soul mate is out there somewhere, just waiting for me. Someday, we will find each other, fall madly in love, and I’ll end up sending smug texts to our friend group chat, telling them all I know love is real, accompanied by a photo with the most handsome man on the planet standing next to me, our arms around each other and a giant rock on my finger.

I know that will happen. I’ve said it out loud multiple times. I’ve written it down in my daily journal. It goes in my both my monthly plan list and my quarterly plans. If you write something down enough, put it out into the universe, eventually…

It comes true.

And that’s #facts.

“I just don’t want to do this alone. I’d rather have a friend on this app with me, but every single one of our friends is currently involved with someone else. Close to being married, just engaged or they’ve recently fallen madly in love,” Kelsey explains. “With the exception of me and you.”

“What about Amelia?” She’s another fringe member of our friend group. She works at the jewelry store in the same shopping center where my hair salon’s at, and we do lunch together on occasion. I love Amelia.

“She got back together with her boyfriend.”

“Ew.” I make a face. I may love Amelia, but I do not like her boyfriend. Those two have been off and on for years. It’s frustrating. He treats her like garbage,