Wait, what?
My gaze lands on a tiny little hyperlink under my profile name, and the profile picture I uploaded of my butt in yoga pants.
Reset profile options.
I frown and tap the little question mark next to it. A popup window opens on my phone:
Resetting profile options clears any cached data on your account. Warning: clicking this will entirely reset your match parameters, potentially giving you more matches than you may be looking for.
Sane me says to close the window, put the phone away, and go find my friends.
Tequila-drunk angry me taps the link.
Your match parameters have been reset.
Big deal. As if I’ll get any new—
My phone dings. When I look at it, I freeze. A message I’ve seen before pops up.
Dear BrokenBee,
A match has been made for you with another Member. You have both been notified. Please use this link to initiate a private chat with your potential partner. Like at the Club itself, we encourage the use of anonymity, as well as open and honest communication. Both parties should discuss hard limits and safe words before meeting. Please enjoy your experience.
Holy shit.
My pulse jackrabbits as I stare at the message. Something twists uncomfortably in my chest, too. But I shove that feeling aside as horrible, toxic images of Kratos and her slither through my head.
Fuck you.
I click on the link. Instantly, a chat opens.
BlackHearted1
I’m looking for tonight. You?
I swallow. My heart clenches.
No.
BrokenBee
Yes
BlackHearted1
Good. Then we can proceed.
I chew on my lip uneasily, remembering the first conversation I had with Kratos here. How dark, direct, and to the point he was. This person sounds similar, but there’s something completely clinical in his response that throws me a little.
BrokenBee
I’m married
I wrinkle my nose the second I hit send. Why did I tell him that? Probably guilt. Feeling that emotion only annoys me more.
Kratos doesn’t deserve my guilt. Not when he’s out cavalierly fucking other women. Not when he’s responding to me saying don’t wait up with “ok” and not checking in with a single text or call since then.
He’s probably busy with some girl.
Angrily, the tequila burning in my system, I glare back at my phone screen.
BlackHearted1
I don’t really give a fuck if you are. Open, or angry
It takes a second before what he’s asked clicks: am I married with an open relationship? Or am I married and pissed at my husband?
BrokenBee
Angry. And available
BlackHearted1
Your profile is fairly vague. What specifically are you looking for
I stare at the screen, pushing down the dull, twisting ache in my chest.
BlackHearted1