⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆
⌞M I N D E L Y N⌝
⇣

⌞♥⌝ With my heart pounding against my ribs like a drummer who downed five espressos before a gig, I slumped at my desk, my face buried in my hands. Despite already having shut my laptop, the congratulatory message still haunted my head, each letter a taunting reminder of the preposterousness of it all.

"So, Mindy," Blake drawled from the comfort of my bed, his lazy sprawl contrasting with the turmoil in my mind, "ready to dive headfirst into the wild world of super-matching?"

His nonchalance grated on my nerves, but it was too late to pull out now, I was in too deep. "Oh, absolutely, Blake," I replied, my voice dripping with sarcasm. "Because nothing says 'adventure' like being paired with a stranger based on a questionnaire I filled out in a sleep-deprived haze at 3 AM."

Rhyson chuckled, undeterred by my acerbity. "Hey, who knows? Maybe you'll end up with a superhero as your knight in shining armor. Or a supervillain if you want that extra zest. Then again, a good balance of both would be a fun platter, wouldn't you agree, Lynny?"

Extra zest? Fun platter? Had my love life been reduced to some sort of experimental cooking show to this son of a gun?

I shot him a withering glare, but he seemed unfazed by my annoyance as I grumbled, "Right, because what every girl dreams of is a partner who spends their nights fighting crime or plotting world domination."

He shrugged, his grin widening. "Hey, stranger things have happened. Love is a battlefield, after all."

"Well, aren't you having the time of your life?"

"Of course. The description of the next episode looks enticing..."

I rolled my eyes, unable to suppress a snort. "More entertaining than a Netflix binge, huh?"

"You bet," Blake chuckled. "Besides, who needs Netflix when you've got front-row seats to the drama that will be your love life?"

Feeling utterly defeated, I swallowed my pride and reluctantly opened my laptop to find a new message waiting for me in my notifications. My heart skipped a beat when I saw the sender: Fever Fling. After a brief hesitation, I clicked on it, bracing myself for whatever awaited.

The message that greeted me was like a punch to the gut, written in bold black cursive against a glaring white background.

"Hello, Miss. Suberson. Congratulations on securing yourself the date of a lifetime! Our team has thoroughly vetted both parties and based on your interactions in our anonymous messaging system, he's ready to take things to the next level. Are you curious who is interested? Just tap the golden heart to find out! Things are about to get steamy."

With a resigned sigh, I tapped the heart icon, steeling myself for what I was about to see. My cursor hovered over the icon, my mind racing with a mix of anticipation and dread. Finally, I mustered the courage to click, my heart pounding against my chest like a jackhammer on overdrive. The screen flickered, and then the man's profile appeared before me, his picture staring back with an intensity that sent shivers down my spine.

As I stared at the screen, I couldn't help but feel like I was looking at a modern-day Adonis. His chiseled jawline and sharp, toned features gave him an air of undeniable allure. With tanned skin that seemed to glow against the stark white background and short, dark, tousled hair that framed his face perfectly, he exuded an effortless charm. But it was his eyes that truly captivated me -- deep, stormy grey pools that seemed to hold endless secrets, drawing me in with their hypnotic gaze.

And then there was his smile –– a smirk, really –– that played at the corners of his rosy lips, both inviting and intimidating at the same time. It was as if he knew something I didn't, something tantalizing and dangerous. My nerves heightened with my stomach churning as I studied his lips, wondering what devilish thoughts lay behind that mischievous grin.

I was the complete opposite.

My reflection stared back at me from the laptop screen, a stark reminder of my imperfections. Acne scars marred my warm caramel skin, souvenirs from the battles of my teenage years. Once bright with curiosity, my doe-like, hazel eyes looked tired and lifeless from countless late nights spent buried in assignments. And as for my face –– well, it was rounder than a basketball, a fact that I was all too aware of.

At best, I was cute –– but only after I put in the effort. Compared to the god-like figure on the screen, I felt like nothing more than a mere mortal, unworthy of his attention.

"Well, is he fuckable?" Blake asked, sounding way more intrigued than earlier. "You've been staring at his picture for a while, so I'll just assume yes, he is."

All I could see was his headshot, but there was no denying he was a very beautiful young man. "He is, but I'm not sure..."

"Well...?"

"Well, what?"

Blake lifted a brow. "Does my man not have a name?"

"Chester Nel from Johannesburg, South Africa," I announced to Blake and myself. A huge weight had been lifted off my shoulders.

That's a whole different continent. Perfect! Possibility of hooking up: zero percent.

It wasn't him being a gorgeous twenty-five-year-old white man that made me hesitant to swipe on him. Our dating preferences and other interests were all in sync. However, he hardly had any details about himself except a small bio about him being a CEO in training and his love of traveling and entertaining people.

"I need more information, like his psych evaluation and whether he's a potential sociopath like Ted Bundy," I said as my eyes scrutinized his profile.

Blake let out another deep sigh. "Ugh, this is why you stink at dating apps. Everyone is automatically a threat to your existence."

'Because they are!' was what I wanted to tell him, but I kept it to myself. Otherwise, he would see it as another complaint. But he was right. Maybe some relaxation was exactly what I needed. I accepted the given match.

However, before he could even type back, I withdrew from my computer and scurried to the safety of my bed. After having nuzzled my body into my duvet, I slapped Blake's hairy arm and, playfully, hissed, "Match from hell accepted! So, I hope you're happy now!"

"Pfft." Extending his hand, he patted my bushy head and sang, "I'm so proud of you, gumdrop."

"Whatever, it was a waste of time; I doubt he'll fly over for a plain Jane like me," I remarked as his fingers played with my bronze curls. "At the very least, it will save him from the heart attack he would have had the moment he saw me."

Without warning, he pinched my cheek and had a mini tug-of-war with it. "Hey, you're cute! Stop saying shit like that, Lyn. I — and an army of other dudes — had a crush on you for the whole of middle school until you friend-zoned me, and, bet your ass, I don't crush on mediocre people. I have unusually high standards."

"Ugh, I'm sorry, Rhy, but... " I apologized, rubbing my sore cheek while eyeing his hand lying a few inches from my face. I was in fear of another attack.

Insecurity wrapped its cold fingers around my heart, squeezing until I could barely breathe. His words were like a lifeline in the storm, pulling me back from the edge of my self-doubt. Still, I couldn't shake the feeling that I wasn't enough.

And there was a reason for that doubt of self-worth, a very deep-rooted one.

"It's just ... You know how it's been for me since Ray started dating again," I confessed, the words heavy with the weight of years of unrequited love.

Ray Dalton had been the center of my universe for as long as I could remember. From third grade to college, he had lived rent-free in my heart and mind, while I remained a background character in his story.

I had tried everything to get his attention, to make him see me as more than just a friend, but no matter what I did, he never looked my way unless he needed something. Watching him date other girls, many of whom were my friends or associates, felt like a dagger through my heart, each new relationship tearing me apart a little more.

Although both were childhood friends, Blake and Ray were polar opposites in my life. Rhyson was my torch, guiding me to a better life and offering me a safe space to be myself. But Dalton? He was the fire, ready to burn me alive with indifference and obliviousness unless he needed a favor. And yet, despite everything, my heart still yearned for him and held onto that flicker of hope.

It was messed up. I knew that well because I was messed up, too.

Tears burned in my eyes as I struggled to hold back the flood of emotions threatening to overwhelm me. "I don't know why I love that boy so much," I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper. "It's stupid. Love is so fucked up."

A warm hand gently perched on my shoulder, grounding me amid my emotional whirlwind. Shaking like a leaf in a strong wind, I traced the steady grip back to a worried Rhy.

Seated upright and towering over me, he lowered himself to my level and pressed a tender kiss on my forehead. Then he brought his muscular arms around my shoulders and embraced me in a sweet and gentle hug. A hint of old spices and honey from his cologne filled my nostrils and eased my mind; I melted into him.

"A good portion of us men are idiots, Mindelyn," he murmured, his voice a gentle rumble against my ear.  "We don't see what's good until it's taken by another man. That's why I think this opportunity will be good for you. There are other options out there. You have always had them, and you deserve so much more."

Still quivering, I barely managed to speak. "You think so?"

"I know so, sweetheart," he replied with a smile worth a thousand suns, his tone unwavering. "A cute and smart young woman like yourself should be having some fun right now after having just graduated, not crying over some player who's been down every other woman's pants. Think of this opportunity as a door to a new journey."

I buried my head in his warm, muscular arms, nodding. "O-okay," I managed, my voice cracking. "And thank you, Rhy. I'll work hard to try and forget him. But it has been years, so I might take a while to get over him."

"That's fine, Lynny," he assured me, his voice filled with unwavering support. "All I want is your happiness and finding worth in yourself because when the time is right, you'll be able to see what you really want in someone, and, trust me, it will be fucken amazing."

The rational side of my brain scoffed at his words, filing them under 'wishful thinking.' But the other, more hopeful side dared to entertain the idea that he might be onto something. All I can say is that with Rhy's encouragement, I was gearing up for one hell of a rollercoaster ride. The kind with unexpected twists and turns that leave you screaming for more. Wink. Wink.