Page 11 of Ice Me Out

“It’s the—”

“I know. I know it’s the truth, but you’re not getting hits because, like that reviewer said, you sound like a real C-U-Next-Tuesday.”

“Oh, are you referring to the guy whose username was NoHighBodyCountz?”

“Yeah, okay, you dodged a bullet with that one.”

“Do I come off as a little abrasive? Yes, but I’m fine with my profile as long as it keeps the douchebags away.”

“Your profile is keeping the money away. If you don’t get a hit soon, you’re gonna be down there at Kitty Palace shaking your ass for cash. You could always ask Bo for a loan.”

I’d rather shake my ass at Kitty Palace than ask my grandfather for money. He’s done enough.

“You know how I feel about asking him for money,” I said with a slight edge in my voice.

“I know, Vera, but he wouldn’t want to see you pawning your shit off or pimping yourself to rich guys on the Internet.”

“I know, but everyone is always in Bo’s pockets, and I never want that to be me.”

Monica groaned as she scrubbed her face. “I know, and that’s admirable of you, but you’re not asking Bo to charter a private jet for you and your friends for Spring Break like your cousin Deja, and you’re not like your cousin Justus asking him to fund his SoundCloud rap career. This is your education, Vera, and Bo wouldn’t think that you’re ‘in his pockets’ for asking for assistance. What about your trust fund?”

“I don’t have access to my trust fund until I’m 25; you know this.”

“What if you ask him for a loan and agree to pay him back from your trust?”

I cleared my throat noncommittally. There was nothing wrong with Monica’s suggestion. It was the most feasible option, seeing how I’d eventually run out of shit I was willing to pawn, but there was a small part of me that didn’t want to rat out my dad. Tensions between my dad and my grandfather could last a few lifetimes.

“I—”

I paused when I heard an unexpected chirp coming from my phone. I searched for it and found it beneath a pile of chemistry notes and study guides. My eyes bulged when I read the notification from Sugar Rush informing me that I had a match.

“Vera? What’s going on? You can’t leave me in suspense. I get paranoid easily.”

“I… I got a match on Sugar Rush,” I mumbled. Monica clapped her hands together and shouted, “Won’t He do it?” as I attempted to wrap my head around everything. “Okay. Don’t get too excited. I got a match, but I still need to seal the deal. This guy could’ve bypassed everything in my bio and is a complete asshole.”

“Well, there’s only one way to find out.”

My shaky thumb hovered over the notification as my anxiety levels rose and my heart thumped in my chest. I closed my eyes and silently chanted, “Please don’t be an ugly piece of shit.”

Don’t get me wrong, there’s nothing wrong with being ugly, but you can’t be ugly and mean.

I pressed the notification, opening the pink bedazzled app. “Oh, my God,” I whispered, falling into the chair at my desk. I nearly missed the seat and fell on my ass, but I managed to save myself at the last minute.

“Who is it?” Monica hissed.

I shook my head. I couldn’t tell her. There was no way I was telling her that Hart ‘Hartbreak’ Myers, star player from the Washington Warriors, matched with me.

This has to be a joke, right? Someone’s trolling me, and I’m being catfished. But… that’s not true. Sugar Rush has a thorough vetting process that includes a background check and a video chat with a representative to ensure you’re who you claim to be.

“I’m sorry, Monica, but I can’t say.”

“Girl, you can’t do me like this,” she complained, slapping the back of her hand into her open palm.

“I promised discretion in my bio,” I reminded her gently.

“You did, and I get that, but you have to give me something.”

A little something won’t hurt.