3. Chapter Three

Chapter Three

Andrew

I don't expect to wake and find three potential dates already queued up on the app. I'm not sure I like the idea of scrolling through a woman's personal information and choosing one like a puppy from the shelter, but I promised Owen I'd give it a try. Besides, if the women signed up for the app, they must know what to expect.

I can't do anything without a morning cup of coffee and a shower to loosen my sore shoulder. Owen and his wife are a great match. There's no denying my best friend hit the jackpot with his beautiful, intelligent, and bonkers wife. She had to be a little crazy to fall for him, but they complement each other well and their kids are the cutest. If those are the results one can expect from the app, then maybe I'm worrying over nothing.

Maybe this can work.

Goblin is already whining at the back door, so I let him out first then grab a hot shower. The entire time, all I can do is stare at the tiles and wonder what the matches might be like. I'm also doing the math and realize there is no way that three women can be just right for me. How do I choose? How does this magical app have such a high success rate if there are so many options?

My quick shower turns into a horror show when the water turns frigid. I dance around and try to finish rinsing my hair without freezing to death, but it's probably good for my pain. I pull on jeans and a tee with the Sharks logo on it, my usual dress when lounging around.

Owen knows me well enough to know what information to share, but I still can't help the worry that overwhelms me when I stick my coffee pod into the machine and settle in to review my options. The heavenly scent of the liquid life permeates the kitchen. I inhale it and swipe to open my phone. The app is relatively discreet, showing nothing that would indicate it's a dating app at all. Even the name is unassuming—Perfect Square. Anyone watching over my shoulder might even think it's a game.

Tapping on it, I hold my breath while the first woman's picture materializes on the screen. At first glance, I can't help but notice she's beautiful with her golden blonde hair and blue eyes. She's a chemist at a local university, wants children, and loves animals but there's something about her that doesn't quite bring the jolt of excitement I had hoped for. On paper, she checks all the right boxes but there's no aha, that's her moment.

The next woman's photo is a quirky, fun pic of her with what I assume is her dog. She's scrunching her nose while the boxer licks the side of her face. Judging by her one open eye, I see they're deep green and she has long, wavy red hair. Sweet freckles dot her face in all the right places. I can't help smiling and scroll down to her biography.

Charlotte "Lottie" Clarke is a high school statistics teacher who loves dogs and math, wants kids, and is not happy with her best friends for setting her up on the app and hounding her about finding love. I chuckle out loud.

"That makes two of us," I say and scroll down a little more. According to her bio, she was born and raised in Savannah, would love to travel, and tries to maintain a positive outlook on life. "You're a sunshiny one then." My smile widens. I scroll a bit more and find a section that lists likes and dislikes. I glance over the dislikes—Thai food (she's allergic to something), cats, cold weather, and a few other things that don't concern me. At least, nothing that is an automatic no.

Her list of likes is longer, but my gaze zeroes in on adventurous.

Contrary to what Owen thinks, I do like to leave my house on occasion, but I'm not sure that I'm adventurous. I bite my lip and read further. She likes meandering walks, the beach, historic Savannah tours, and ice cream. Now all of that, I like.

Rather than hesitate and talk myself out of it, I tap the icon to request a chat.

Your request has been sent. Please allow 24 hours for Charlotte to respond.

I take a deep breath and head back to the kitchen for my coffee. Goblin scratches at the door ready for breakfast. Instead of letting him in, I step out onto the patio to get a little fresh air. He runs around me in a circle and darts toward his playset for a few rounds of sliding.

Trying to imagine a woman in this scenario is difficult, but it isn't unwelcome. Baseball can't be all there is to life, and now that I'm probably at retirement, I want to explore the rest of my life with someone. Not only that, I want to root for someone whose sweaty socks aren't thrown at my head every week. My teammates are great, mostly, but a group of men gets old after a while. I want a friend, a companion who rounds this all out. Someone who makes it…better.

My dog scratches the door again to remind me he's hungry.

"Okay, let's go eat breakfast and we'll go for a walk." It's too hot and humid already, but there is little else to do with my free time. I can't practice, can't play, and sitting around all day, contemplating my future, is not my idea of a fun time. Besides, I'm still on the pity train, and it's time it left the station and set its sights on a new route.

Goblin trots to his bowl and wags his bushy tail while doing a prancy dance. The dog is way too spoiled, but since he's my only companion, I let him get away with almost anything.

"Here you go, boy. Enjoy," I say and drop a big scoop of kibble in his bowl. Far be it from me to judge, but there is nothing about triangle pieces of overcooked cracker that appeal to me. But if you ask him, they are a delicacy. Goblin takes a mouthful and drops it on the floor, arranges the kibbles in what he deems the proper order, then eats them one at a time.

My phone dings, distracting me from the thrilling scene before me. I tap to open it and find I have an alert from the app. Add punctual to the list of positive things about Charlotte. Her yes reply flashes in green over her image along with an arrow pointing down. I scroll down to find a messaging option has opened.

"I guess we leveled up, Gobs."

Goblin tilts his head side to side and his giant, triangle ears perk. He isn't distracted by my issues for long but goes back to arranging and eating his food.

How do I respond? Tapping my finger on my phone, I chew my lip and consider options for a first date. Dinner could be nice, but that's probably overdone. What if we don't have anything in common, and we're forced to stare at each other through an entire awkward meal? Movie theaters still exist, but do people even go to them anymore? Owen's teasing about long walks in the park comes back to me but it gives me an idea.

Hi, Charlotte. I'm Andrew. It's nice to meet you.

Meet her? I tapped send before I thought that one through, but I've never dated over an app before. Saying I am out of my element would be an understatement, but what's done is done.

I'm not sure how long I'm supposed to wait for a response. Does the app send the messages immediately like text message, or does it filter through moderation first? This is why dating apps are stressful, I decide, and set my phone down so I can make my own breakfast. Since I didn't get to have my donut yesterday, I choose pancakes and sausage. Some say men don't need comfort food, but I'm here to prove them wrong.

Once I finish eating and get Goblin leashed up, I get a message. The walk can wait. I find myself in way too much of a rush to see if it's Charlotte responding to my shoddy introduction. It is. It's a simple introduction like mine, and now there is an option to call her. I'm not sure how this app works, but it seems like the one being pursued gets to decide how fast we move through this meet and greet. I'm not sure it's best to call her yet, so I type a response.

Full disclosure, I've never met anyone over a dating app before. It seems a little awkward. How does this even work? Do we just…go out? Message a while? Exchange pertinent information? I'm kidding about that last part…

I read what I typed a few times and figure it's not awful and tap send. As soon as the bubble disappears, I regret it. What did I do? I sent her a novel. And asked for her pertinent information? Let no one ever say that Andrew Rossi does anything halfway.

Peering out the front window, I notice Nancy is already hard at work. If I go outside to enjoy another cup of coffee, she's going to stop me to chat. It isn't that I don't enjoy our talks. I do, and Nancy is like the neighborhood grandmother. She's always pleasant and has good advice, but right now there's a redheaded bombshell with a beautiful scrunchy nose and a seemingly fun personality who has stolen my attention. At least, she has distracted me from things I don't want to think about.

The app lights up and dings with a response. I'm not ashamed at how fast I scroll to read her reply, but I am ashamed that this is what I have been reduced to by a shoulder injury. I'm a thirty-two year old single man getting giddy over a woman I haven't even met, showing a modicum of interest in me. But it's a woman who doesn't know I'm a pro baseball player—not yet—and there is something about that that raises my hopes higher.

Obviously I have to tell her what I do for a living, but I want to ensure she's interested in me and not my soon-to-be-over career first.

Wait, what am I saying? "Chill, Rossi. No need to bulldoze this like you do everything in life." Forcing myself to slow down, I open the message.

Your guess is as good as mine. I've never done this either. Maybe we message for a while and see if we're as compatible as this app thinks we are? Pertinent details. Uh…I'm not a creepy stalker? Is that pertinent enough?

I laugh but refocus. Hmm, no commitment, no awkward first date with no real background information? I can get behind that, especially since it gives me time to keep my career a secret and let her get to know me. And thus begins our first "messaging date" as the app calls it. I respond with what I hope is a good conversation starter.

I think that's a great idea. It's a way to get to know each other without all of the pressure, right? I don't know about you, but I'm skeptical this app is as perfect as my friend says it is. Good to know you're not a creepy stalker. That could be a real deal breaker.

Oh, right? I mean, if it's so perfect then how do you end up with more than one match? What if your perfect match isn't even on the app? What if they were set up with someone else, because you were a day late? It's stressful, I say.

You really thought that through. I was only stressed about meeting a beautiful woman in person and having nothing to bring to the table. Another admission…I failed statistics twice.

I'd laugh, but that's serious business, sir. How can anyone fail twice? I think you probably needed a tutor.

Oh, it was all on me. I'm not a math fan, but don't hold that against me. I am not a stalker, so I also have that going for me.

I don't know. I might have to hold it against you despite your stalking status. That's strike one. You sure you want to keep going with this messaging thing?

Absolutely. I can survive one strike. There won't be any more, trust me.

See to it there aren't. I'm kidding though. I don't think I have a single student who enjoys it, but it really is a useful subject. I mean, think of all the times you use math every day.

Fair enough. I will forever think of math in a different light thanks to you.

Ha, ha. I almost saw that smirk right over the app. You sound like my students always giving me smart remarks and asking when they will ever use statistics.

Oh, no. Not me. I was completely serious. I might even take another statistics class if you're the teacher. You're much easier on the eyes than my eleventh grade teacher, Mrs. Wardle.

Are you flirting with me? I'd send a raised eyebrow emoji, but the app doesn't allow emojis.

I might be. Too much too soon?

Mmm, no. I guess I like a man who shows his hand right up front. And what you said about not bringing anything to the table? Lies. All lies. Your profile pic says otherwise.

That was a professional photo my friend picked. Just saying, it might be more flattering than the real thing.

Eh, maybe, but I've enjoyed our chat thus far. That's important too. I don't want a man with a nice face that bores me half to death. Been there, done that, sent postcards to all of my friends.

Ditto. You can't build a relationship on looks alone. Seems like we have a few things in common though. Dogs, for one.

Yes! Love them, but I only really have room for one. She'd probably like a friend, though.

I have one too. He's a mess and a half, but he's also a good companion. What else do you like to do besides teach math?

Oh, you know, typical Savannah stuff. Go to the beach, casual shopping, I'm pretty easy to please. I'm up for almost anything.

I like that. Leaves us a lot of wiggle room for future dates, right?

Maybe. We'll have to make sure you don't get any more strikes first. All joking aside, yeah, I think that's true. I still want to message a bit more before we commit to meeting in person, but I have some work to get done. Can we try this again soon?

We could meet here again tonight if you'd like. Say seven?

It's a date. I think. Is it really a date over the internet?

It's a date if we decide it is. I guess it's really up to you.

A date it is then. "See" you tonight!

I set my phone down and try not to get too anxious about our conversation. It was good, and I think I have a decent grasp on the sort of person she is. At least, her profile seems to fit her. She's sunshiny and polite, can take a joke, and doesn't mind some mild flirting, but only a few more messaging dates and time will tell if this thing has a shot. Right now, it's just too soon to tell.

I send Owen a quick update but he doesn't respond. He's probably busy with his family. A small spark of jealousy ripples through me and I remind myself this is why I agreed to let him set me up on the app. I want to be busy with a family of my own, and this could be the start of something great.