Rate a Date by Monica Murphy Page 0,18

I thought it would be a good match for me, and for you.”

A breeze washes over us, bringing with it the salty scent of the ocean. The sun is dropping, the temperature is cooling, and I shiver, even though I’m wearing the denim jacket. “Theo is a good guy. I have zero interest in him beyond being his friend, and I would guess he feels the same way about me.”

“Are you mad at me for setting this up?” Kelsey lifts her head, her turbulent gaze meeting mine.

“No way.” I shake my head, the breeze whipping my hair in front of my face. I brush it away irritably. “I feel bad that Paul tricked you, though.”

“He’s an asshole,” Kelsey says bitterly, repeating herself. But come on, it’s warranted. “Why are all men such assholes?”

I decide to give her my honest take on it. “They’re too dazzled by your pretty face and will do whatever it takes to get with you. No, I’m being serious,” I say when she shoots me a skeptical glance. “Like I said, they will do whatever it takes to get with you, including masking their true personality.”

“Sometimes I wish someone could like me for just…me. I wonder if I can get on that one reality show.” She mutters the last part under her breath.

Frowning, I ask, “What show?”

“That Love is Blind show. Where they sit in pods by themselves and they can’t see who they’re with. They just have to talk. Get to know each other through words. They end up falling in love with personalities, and souls, not looks. Not your face or body. Looks are just the bonus,” Kelsey explains.

“Life is not like a reality dating TV show,” I tell her, wishing that wasn’t the case. Honestly? I’d rather be on The Bachelorette. All the attention would be focused on me, and I’m the one who gets to choose from a bunch of gorgeous men.

Doesn’t that sound awesome?

Of course, I’d have a hard time choosing, and I wouldn’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings, so maybe that wouldn’t be the right way to go.

Not so sure meeting up with men we meet on a dating app is the right way to go either.

Six

Mitch

Moving sucks. I’ve never liked it, and I’ve done it a lot over the years. When I was a kid, my mom was moving us all the time, from one apartment to another, but always keeping it in the same school district for me and my little brother. She’s done a lot of careless shit over the years, but at least she did that.

Once she and Dad divorced, though, she turned us all into vagabonds, chasing one dream after another. One man after another too.

Until I was about ten and my brother was eight, and we ended up moving in with grandma and grandpa in Monterey. Mom disappeared for a while. Dad never really came around anymore. I still haven’t heard from that motherfucker, and I’ve been in the NFL for a few years now, my face splashed on TV screens across the country.

He was never really a big part of my life, so I can’t miss someone I don’t really know, right?

My grandparents meant stability for my brother and me, and I never knew how much I craved it, how much I needed it, until I had to move for college. I was homesick for at least the first two months, until I finally found my groove. I was doing okay at school, I had friends, I felt like I had purpose on the team. In life. The college years were good. Felt like one big party, though I did manage to graduate with a business degree.

When I was drafted into the NFL with the Buccaneers and had to move halfway across the country, from Texas to Florida—that sucked balls. I lasted in Florida for all of one season before I was traded to the Raiders, thank Jesus. Back to Cali I went, having to move clear across the country in a short amount of time. I hired a moving company, but it was still a disaster. Some items were broken. They lost my dresser. I suppose it was no big deal, I got it at IKEA. Moving means you have to readjust—to a new place, a new town, a new team.

Being the new guy can work in your favor, or they can treat you like absolute crap and you’re doomed from the start. Luckily enough with my current team, we bonded. We’re