Time to swipe (syd)

Name: Sydney Sweeney
Age: 26

About me:
In town for a few days. Work event dragged me here, but figured I’d try to meet some cool people while I’m around. Not looking for anything heavy, just good conversation, maybe a drink or two.

You come to a halt. You nearly drop your phone when her name and face flash across the screen. Sydney. Fucking. Sweeney. For a second you think you’ve had too much caffeine or maybe someone is pulling some elaborate prank, because what the hell are the odds? You’ve spent more nights than you’d ever admit alone in your room jacking off to her scenes from The Voyeurs.

Your thumb hovers over the screen like it’s made of glass, fragile and precious, like one wrong move could shatter the illusion. Surely it’s fake. Some thirsty catfish using her face to reel in idiots. But then again—you remember seeing on Twitter just yesterday that she was in town for some brand event. Same city. Same weekend.

Your stomach flips. It’s a wild mixture of disbelief and hunger, like standing at the edge of a high dive and feeling both the urge to jump and the terror of hitting the water. Your rational brain tells you, There’s no way she’d swipe right on you. You’re just Lucas, software guy, fresh out of school, still figuring out which grocery store has the cheapest almond milk. But your ego, freshly inflated by your shiny new job and the fact you finally have abs you’re not ashamed to show, whispers, Why the fuck not? What do you have to lose?

Your thumb hovers. One swipe is all it takes.