The Blind Date

Arielle raises one brow sharply, glaring at me. “Are you seriously implying that you are normal right now?”

I don’t answer. Instead, I studiously avoid her gaze, choosing to look around my apartment. Eli might be disappointed in me for not buying a house, but I love this place. It’s a completely white backdrop for all my favorite things—yellow pillows, poster prints of inspirational quotes, fluffy blankets in white and yellow gingham checks, and all sorts of sun trinkets I’ve bought or my followers have sent me.

Arielle snaps her fingers, demanding my attention. “You said you were ready. Remember the five hundred thousand followers?”

Eli pipes up, “Five hundred and one thousand now.”

“You”—I meet his eyes with no problem— “are no longer my best friend. Get out, but leave the wine.” I snuggle my wine glass to my chest protectively as though he’ll snatch it from me.

Eli stands, and at first, I think he’s actually going to leave despite the fact that I was obviously joking. But instead of heading for the door, he reaches to the far side of the charcuterie board for a small sausage.

Holding it up lengthwise between his thumb and index finger, he suggests, “If this is the only sausage you’re getting, and we all know it is, you should listen to Arielle. She’s got your best interests at heart, and you know that too.”

I’m not one to pout, but I consider letting my lip pop out anyway to see if it’d get me out of this mess. I said I’d date, but I was thinking more along the lines of meeting a cute guy at the farmer’s market.

But when Raffy, that disloyal salt and pepper miniature Schnauzer of mine, hops out of my lap to make a run for the snack and Eli pops the whole baby sausage in his mouth and starts chewing, I realize that maybe he’s right. Maybe they’re both right.

Raffy runs around the coffee table with a case of the zoomies, hoping that his display will warrant one of us giving him a treat. If anything, I’d like to give him a chill pill. “Raffy! Sit!”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Arielle sighs. “Raffy, here, boy!” The sausage in her hand gets my dog’s attention, and he sits, pretty as a picture, at Arielle’s feet. “Tell your momma it’s fine. Everyone does it . . . online dating, I mean. Tell her. Speak!”

Raffy barks for Arielle and she feeds him the yummy treat.

“See, even Raffy agrees.”

I know when I’ve been beaten. And truth be told, I’m intrigued. I get asked out, but I never know if it’s because I’m me or because I’m Riley Sunshine. And I quit counting the number of weird private messages I got ages ago. Maybe this is a way to date?

“There’s still the whole ‘Riley Sunshine’ problem,” I tell them, wiggling my fingers under my chin in my salute. I swear I don’t usually talk about myself in the third-person, and my online persona is truly me, but it’s me amped up a bit. I mean, nobody wants to see me with a crazy bedhead, stained T-shirts from my college days, and crying over Buffy’s having to decide between Angel or Spike as if I don’t know what happens from watching the reruns multiple times from beginning to series’ end.

“You think I didn’t think of that?” Arielle challenges. Eli smirks, and I wonder what she’s got up her sleeve. “Do you even talk to River?”

“Huh?” I say dumbly. I mean, Arielle obviously knows who my brother is, and I talk about him whenever a story comes up that needs to be shared, but what is she talking about?

“BlindDate,” she informs me. “Our brothers’ dating app?”

Oh, that.

Briar Rose is one of those small, big towns. Everyone doesn’t know everyone, and there are no lemonade stands on the sidewalks or anything like that. But it also doesn’t take Six Degrees of Kevin Bacon to connect someone to someone else. At most, it’d take two or three. For example, Arielle and me, and our brothers.

Arielle and I met at the mall with The Crew. Our brothers met in school. Neither particularly remarkable in and of itself, but a bit of a ‘small world’ coincidence. Still, we don’t hang out or anything. River’s great and all, but he’s a bit protective of me, even though I don’t need it, especially with Arielle at my side. And Arielle and her brother, Noah, are too alike to get along for more than a few minutes, though they love each other fiercely. That’s how they do everything—bold, brash, and bossy.

“BlindDate,” I repeat, connecting the dots in Arielle’s plan. “The dating app with no photos? That works for me to stay anonymous, but what if Freddy Krueger shows up?”

Arielle giggles. “Can’t say that isn’t a possibility, but would you really walk away if he was ugly but at the same time was extra-sweet? You know what they say, it’s what’s on the inside that counts.”