Chapter 2

Two

Fairlie

The app is on sale. I’ve never made responsible purchases while drinking, and it only takes my phone two minutes or so to download. As I watch the progress bar slowly creep to one hundred percent, I can’t help but feel a mix of excitement and hesitation bubbling inside me. The big, bold letters on the screen urge me to log in or create an account, and I stare at them, frozen.

Am I really about to do this?

It’s not like I’ve made the best decisions when it comes to relationships. Almost three years of my life were spent in a comfortable but utterly boring relationship with a guy who, by society’s standards, should have been perfect for me. We met in college, dated for years, and had the typical future laid out in front of us—graduating, getting jobs in our fields, and more than likely settling into a stable life together with a white picket fence and two point five kids.

What did that get me?

Halloween night spent alone, drunk, and no longer in my Thumbelina costume, yet still complete with her signature hair and makeup. Now, I’m just sitting here with my panties getting wet every time someone gets murdered.

Mr. Big-Dick-But-Don’t-Know-How-to-Use-It is probably out there railing some other girl, living his best life. Meanwhile, I’m here, drowning in cheap wine and bad decisions.

Fuck it. What do I have to lose? Maybe some sexy wolven or centaur will wanna be my eye candy while I play with myself.

With quick fingers, I fill out the information to create a profile: name, gender preference, my pronouns, what race I am, and my billing information. That was easy enough. Minus I tapped ‘prefer not to say’ for race. I want them to pick me for me, not for what I am.

Now comes the hard part: picking the perfect profile picture and a few lines for the about me section. I scroll through my camera roll, finally settling on a picture I took at a bar a few nights ago. My light magenta hair was cascading in soft waves around my face, perfectly matching my favorite lipstick, and I’ve got a smokey eye that could kill.

Now for the About Me section. Giggling like a fool, I type a few lines and know I won’t have many takers, but I’m here for a good time, not a long time.

Senior in college.

Human men suck and not in the fun way.

Looking to broaden my horizons.

Please don’t be a cheating fuckstick.

I like wine, horror movies, and reading thrillers.

Made this while drinking. Might deactivate when sober, so hit me up before then.

I tap publish and little sprinkles rain down from the top of my screen, congratulating me on completing my profile. Now I get to swipe left or right on the monsters and if we match, it will growl at me and flash ‘It’s a Monsterly Match.’

The first profile I see is a kraken with sleek, dark scales and webbed hands. Tentacles frame his face, and his deep black eyes seem to peer into my soul. Konnor is his name, and his bio reads: Loves deep dives, ancient secrets, and long walks on the ocean floor.

“I’m not much of a swimmer. Sorry, Konnor.” I swipe left and the next picture instantly pops up; a three-eyed alien guy. “Nope. Too much for a beginner.”

A minotaur is next, tall as heck with muscles for days that are covered in tawny fur. Strong arms lead to powerful hands and two sharp horns spring from his forehead that amplify his chiseled face. I read the About Me section aloud.

“Care to explore the maze? I promise the journey will be worth it if you can keep up.”

Oh, yes, please. I wanna get lost in that body. I snort a giggle and swipe right. Mitas, the minotaur, better do the same when he sees my profile.

My fourth monster is an orc—I think that’s what he is, anyway. Big muscles with green skin that contrasts sharply with the tight black t-shirt he’s wearing. He has long dark hair pulled back into a loose, messy ponytail and two little tusks that jut out slightly from his lower lip. I mean, minus the green skin, tusks, and pointy ears, he’s very humanesque… and sexy. Very sexy.

Right swipe.

A growl emanates from my phone as our pictures appear side by side, the text dropping onto the screen: ‘It’s a Monsterly Match.’

“So the orc has good taste too,” I murmur.

I have the option to message him, but I hesitate, unsure of what to say. Instead, I click the exit button, ready to see who else is out there. Another profile pops up—a unicorn with a blond mane that’s giving me serious Fabio vibes.

Left swipe.

My phone chimes and an envelope icon fills the screen before a claw appears, opening it like a letter opener.

They really went all out for this app.

It’s a message from the sexy orc.

Osric- Hello pretty girl. Are you a fairy as your name implies?

Of course, he thinks I’m a freaking fairy. Thanks Mom for the name. Now I’m going to tell this hot-as-sin monster I’m human and he’ll probably ghost me.

Me- Human. My mom thought she was unique. Is that a problem?

Osric- Nope. Fairies are too stuck up for me, anyway.

Me- Good to know. So what made you swipe right?

Stupid. Stupid question.

Obviously, he thinks you’re hot. It’s not like this app asks for deep, soul-searching answers.

Osric- You’re sexy as hell, but I liked your bio. Are you really drunk?

Me- Drank half a box of wine already.

Osric- That will do it. Were you at a party? It’s Halloween. Shouldn’t a pretty girl like you be out with friends dancing or celebrating?

Me- I was supposed to be at a party with my ex, but he decided to ditch me and go with his side piece.

Osric- So, looking for a monster rebound. I’m looking for something more than that but for you, I could bend my rules.

Me- Not looking for a rebound per se. Just sick of trash bag men. I’ve dated quite a few humans and the ad for this app popped up while I was watching a movie. So I figured why the hell not?

Osric- What were you watching? Hopefully not Orcs! with Adam Johnson. Shittiest movie ever made and not scary at all.

I’ve never heard of that movie, but I don’t want to seem like a moron, so I quickly open my browser and search for it. It debuted in two thousand eleven and doesn’t have very good reviews online. But I’ve never seen it.

Me- Never heard of or seen it. I hope you don’t look like that “orc” on the cover. Or you, my friend, are a catfish.

Osric- No fishing here. It’s hard enough to find a match being a monster, but then add in the green and it’s an orc-eat-orc world out there.

Me- Ha! You got jokes.

We spend the next few hours messaging back and forth, and I find myself smiling nonstop at my phone. Osric is funny, smart, and super curious about everything there is to know about me. I’ve never had anyone ask such innocent questions, like what my favorite number is or what pet I would own if I could choose any.

It’s refreshing—more than I expected. I can’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, creating this profile wasn’t such a bad idea after all. When Mitas messages me in the app after we match, I don’t even bother to look. I’m too wrapped up in the charming orc who has somehow managed to captivate me in just a few short hours.