using the App

The smell of takeout still lingers when Tom drops his bag by the door. He looks tired in that heroic, unassuming way that comes from saving lives without thinking he’s doing anything extraordinary. You watch him untie his shoes, notice how his shoulders relax once he’s home.

“So,” he says finally, stretching the word out. “Let me get this straight. You’re pretending to be a hot, single twenty-something on a dating app?”

You wince. “When you say it like that, it sounds ridiculous.”

“Is it not?”

You laugh softly. “It’s journalism, Tom. Immersive reporting. It’s not like I’m catfishing anyone — I’m just… observing. Writing from the inside.”

He leans against the counter, crossing his arms. “Inside what, exactly?”

You hesitate. There’s no malice in his voice, just the careful curiosity of someone trying not to sound jealous. He’s always been gentle that way — honest without accusation.

“I’m trying to understand how people connect now,” you say. “How they look for love. What they hope for. It’s not about me.”

He nods slowly, though his brow furrows. “Okay. But it’s kind of about you.”

You don’t answer.

Later, after dinner, you’re both on the couch — plates stacked on the coffee table, laptop closed, phone glowing faintly in your hand. You open the app. Notifications bloom across the screen like confetti.

“Already?” Tom says, sitting up. “You just posted it this morning.”

You scroll through the flood of faces, all the names and half-formed introductions. “Ninety-seven matches,” you say. “Guess Kansas City’s feeling friendly.”

He huffs a laugh, shaking his head. “Friendly’s one word for it.”

You hand him the phone. “Help me sort them. Journalistic research.”

He gives you a look. “You’re unbelievable.”

“You love me.”

“I do. Which is why this feels insane.”

Still, he takes the phone. Together you sift through the messages — the lazy hey openers, the overconfident smiles, the ones who just start off talking about their dicks. You start assigning categories: The Philosopher, The Guy Who Thinks Hiking Solves Everything, The One Who Wants to Talk About His Dog for Six Paragraphs.

You’re laughing, teasing, even arguing about which ones deserve a second glance. And then Tom pauses at one. A man with kind eyes, a shy grin. His message is simple — thoughtful, even.

“Wow,” Tom says quietly. “That guy actually seems cool.”

You lean closer, reading over his shoulder. The message isn’t perfect, but it’s sincere. You feel something — not attraction, exactly, but a flicker of recognition. A reminder of how easily connection can begin.

“Yeah,” you say softly. “Our first swipe right.”

For a moment, you both just sit there. The laughter fades into a hush that’s not uncomfortable, just… uncertain.

Tom hands the phone back, his thumb brushing yours. “Just… be careful, okay?”

You nod. “Always.”

But later, lying in bed beside him, you can’t stop thinking about how strange it felt — seeing possibility reflected back at you through someone else’s eyes.

Not temptation, exactly. Just awareness.

And maybe that’s what scares you most.