Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 83358 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 417(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83358 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 417(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
“I’ve got mild back pain and I’m nowhere close to thirty,” Atlas says.
I ignore him as now Winnie is pointing at my profile. She smiles brightly. She’s freaking adorable. Hilarious. She’s also about to roast me. I can see it in the hard flicker of her eyes and the mischievous tilt to her lips. “This is @LuckyBranson69. He’s apparently a professional hockey player. I googled him. He has the requisite six-pack of an athlete, a verified checkmark, and the face of a man who has definitely been told he’s someone’s Roman Empire. And he’s apparently accepted my dating challenge.”
“She’s not wrong,” Penn wheezes.
I scowl but keep my eyes glued to the screen. “That doesn’t sound good,” I mutter in astonishment.
Winnie goes on—gently, self-deprecating, but clear. She doesn’t think I fit her ideal. Not average enough. Too shiny.
She thanks me, politely declines, and feeds her rabbit a piece of fuzzy lettuce. I watch the entire thing in stunned silence.
“She said no,” I say flatly, letting the phone drop to my thigh.
Atlas whistles. “I gotta say, I did not see that coming.”
“I’m confused,” Penn says, scratching his head, eyes roaming back and forth between me and Atlas. “Who is that?”
I don’t bother answering. I’m too busy trying to figure things out as I’m not ready to let this go. I hear Atlas explaining, “She’s like a TikTok person the way our buddy Lucky is, and she issued a dating challenge. Our boy wasn’t so lucky, though. He accepted the challenge and she turned him down.”
Penn winces. “Harsh, man. Sorry.”
I tap my phone on my chin, lost in thought. “I mean… what the hell is wrong with me? I’m being penalized for having a nice jawline?”
Penn raises an eyebrow. “No offense, bro. But you’re not what she’s looking for.”
“Why not?” I demand. “What’s so wrong with me?”
“You’re you,” Penn replies like that explains everything. “She said average. You’re… not that.”
“Why do you care so much?” Atlas adds, shifting to face me. “You’ve never chased a girl the entire time I’ve known you.”
I hesitate.
It’s not just the way she looks. Although yes—those hazel eyes and the way she bites her lip when she’s thinking does something to my soul.
But it’s more than that.
“She’s real,” I say, slow and honest, as if it’s a revelation I hadn’t seen coming. Yeah… that’s it. “She’s funny without trying to be. She talks to a rabbit like it’s a roommate and she’s not afraid to call herself average, but she’s clearly not. She’s brave and kind and smarter than half the people I know, and she has this… vibe. Like she’d show up to a gala with ChapStick and granola in her purse and make fun of the centerpieces.”
“How do you know all that?” Penn asks in amazement.
I roll my eyes at such an uneducated question. “Dude… you can learn everything you need to know about a person by watching their videos. She’s the real deal.”
Atlas blinks. “You’re smitten.”
“Am not,” I immediately correct him. “But I do love a challenge.”
Penn leans against the weight rack. “What are you going to do?”
I sit forward, elbows on my knees. “I think I’m going to prove her wrong.”
“About what?”
“About me. And about her.”
They exchange glances but it’s Atlas who asks, “What’s the end game? You going to get her to fall for you and then dump her?”
That hits hard and I deny it. “No. I wouldn’t do that. I want to show her there are decent guys out there who might be a little more than average. She’s not asking to find true love. Just a decent guy to date. I want to show her that average doesn’t mean safe or boring, or that she shouldn’t lower her expectations in any way. It can mean steady. It can mean good. And I want her to see herself the way I see her.”
I internally wince as soon as those words are out as I realize how deranged that sounds. I’ve never had a conversation with this woman and yet… okay, maybe I am a bit smitten already. Maybe it’s the fact she loves TikTok as much as I do?
Penn grins. “You’re in trouble, man.”
“Big time,” Atlas adds.
I shrug. “Worth it. Besides, what do I have to lose?”
Confidence renewed—because truly, what do I have to lose—I open TikTok and start recording.
I’m in a plain gym tee, sweaty hair sticking up, and no filter. I lift the camera and smile, lazy and direct. I stitch her last video and I don’t mince words or drag things out.
“I can be average,” I say with a devilish smile. “And I think you’re seriously discounting the value of snacks.” I lean closer. “I bet I can change your mind.”
I post it. No tag. No follow-up. Nothing I said invites a reply from her and I don’t expect one.