My tongue rested on the left side of my bottom lip as I flicked the pen between my fingers. With each swing, it touched my temples.

Tap. Swing. Tap. Swing. 

I tucked my tongue back inside and replaced it with the end of the pen while I searched through a pile of thoughts in my mind.

CVs were the worst part about finding a job. I hated creating a polished version of myself, flawless and with brilliant work experience, when I was nowhere near that. Sure, I had the experience, but the places I gathered it from weren’t exactly legal. More specifically, I wasn’t legally old enough to work anywhere. As a result, there’s no way to prove I was ever hired.

I tucked my dark curls behind my ear, trying to focus. Okay. I have to take it from the beginning.

At sixteen, when Dad got drunk and spent all our savings gambling, I worked nights as a bartender and days as a dishwasher in a club. It was a horrible time in my life—I had covered my umber skin with tons of makeup and stuffed socks into my bra in an attempt to hide my real age.

That’s one, but I wasn’t sure I should’ve written it down.

At seventeen, I was a dog walker and nanny for six months. That was something I could’ve used. I thought it was decent and showed that I was a hardworking girl at an early age.

But again, I had no actual proof I did that.

Yet it’s not as if anyone hiring me would investigate so deeply that they’d contact everyone I’ve worked for to ask about my performance.

If they did, they would find out I lost two dogs in one day, one dog was bit by the other, and was fired because I gave a kid a piece of chocolate. 

Okay, it wasn’t just one, but I couldn’t say no. I had remembered the times my mother would hide sweets from me, so I knew I was doing that kid a favor. The parents just couldn’t see things the way I did.

I worked at a fast food truck after that, and then as a mechanic. The latter didn’t work well because I had lied about my experience and almost set a car on fire.

I sat up straighter in my chair.

Fuck that. I was going to write all of my previous jobs on this CV. There were too many for them to reach out to each one. Even if they did, I was a different person now. I was twenty-one, and I deserved a second chance.

The bell rang and I jumped to my feet from behind the front desk of the sportswear shop I was working at. I was so caught up in my thoughts that I lost track of time after ordering myself an Uber.

Glancing between the family that entered the store and the clock behind me, I realized that it was past seven, and time for me to leave.

“Hi there,” I said, pushing myself onto my palms so I could see them better.

The man’s head moved in my direction while his wife—presumably—and kid went to the left side to look at some clothes. He tipped his chin forward, ready to go after his family.

“We’re closed,” I continued with a smile, eyeing my phone that just lit up with a notification that my Uber driver was here.

He looked around, then lowered his eyes to his watch before they met mine. “It’s seven thirty.”

I nodded and pushed a button to close all the lights, then stuffed the CV in my purse as I walked over to them. “I’m sorry.” I gave them an apologetic smile. “We close thirty minutes early to clean up.”

His wife joined him, her brows furrowed. The man took the kid in his arms as I walked toward the exit, but he didn’t move. “Then why do your hours say eight rather than seven-thirty?”

Are you serious?

I adjusted the strap of the purse on my shoulder, moving my weight from one foot to another. “It’s only on Sundays.”

He huffed, then walked out with his wife and kid, murmuring something I couldn’t decipher. 

It wasn’t my fault they decided to come here at the last minute. I was going out with my friends, and not a single soul had entered the shop in two hours. He should’ve been happy I didn’t close then.

I secured the store for the night and got into the Uber waiting for me outside, then messaged Merielle that I’d be there in five.

She and David have been together for a while, and going out on Sundays has somehow become a ritual for us. Most of the time I felt like a third wheel, even though I knew for a fact that David was the third wheel.

Always.

Whenever I was there, Merielle forgot she had a boyfriend. She did such a great job at it that I almost forgot too.

The driver stopped the car and I got out, my shoes hitting the rough pavement. I leaned down, smiling at him. “Thank you. Have a great night,” I said before closing the door.

The cold air swept inside my lungs, the smell of heated tires tingling my nostrils. I pulled my jacket tighter on me, the wind slicing my cheek as I hastened my pace and walked inside the cheap bar. 

As soon as I opened the door, my ears filled with a roar of dismay as people sat back down on their chairs, squeaking under their weight as their eyes wandered from the old TV that was hung on the wooden wall.

My gaze traveled over the crowd of football spectators and landed on a waving Merielle. A smile curved on my face and I weaved between bodies, my heels sticking to the wet floor. 

“Not grabbing a drink tonight?” I heard a familiar voice shouting over the chatter. 

I turned my head, spotting Eric behind the wooden stools lined up along a counter, serving drinks to those waiting. A silly grin was displayed on his face, his ravished hair resting on his forehead and eyes pointed at me as he handed over a few beers.

Eric was a hot guy. His muscles put on quite a show, especially through the tank top he was wearing tonight. His face had the right amount of cuteness and roughness, but he’s too young for me.

“Sure,” I replied, raising my arms to my sides. “Bring me whatever my friends have.”

He nodded, lifting a hand to his forehead. “Aye aye, captain.”

With a shake of my head and a stolen smile, I continued my path to where Merielle and David were. 

“Eric hitting on you again?” Merielle wiggled her brows as soon as I sat down.

I rolled my eyes theatrically, hanging up my purse on the edge of the chair, then faced the two of them again.

“Hi, David,” I began, hinting that this was the proper way to start a conversation, rather than my friend asking something she already knew the answer to.

David chortled, side-eyeing his girlfriend before kissing her forehead. She ignored him, patting her sleek blonde hair with her palm.

“I don’t understand why you don’t give him a shot.” She shrugged, then nudged David with her elbow, waiting for him to agree with her. 

I took the mojito in front of her and slid it to me, then took a sip before responding. “He’s too young.”

She huffed. “He’s only three years younger, and who says you have to marry this guy? Bang him and jump to the next one until you can re-collect your broken little heart.”

My stomach sank, and I caught a small scrunch of David’s nose. Tonight was all about taking my mind off him. 

Merielle was a good friend, but she had a way of bringing something up when she definitely shouldn’t. Since Josh and I ended things, she has been bugging me to fuck around and live my life. She figured that after two years locked in a cage with that son of a bitch, I never got to enjoy life in the real sense of it.

The truth was, I didn’t want to.

I wasn’t looking for one-night stands, and she knew that. Still, she couldn’t stop nagging that I should find someone else, even if it wasn’t for the long term.

I took the straw out of the glass, chugging it until my face burned. “Where’s Eric with that drink of mine?” I asked, looking for him in the crowd.

“Or maybe…” I heard David starting.

My eyes moved to him. It’s strange to hear him intervening in ‘girl stuff’ as he liked to call it, so I was interested in what he had to say.

Maybe not interested, but curious.

“There’s this new dating app—” He tried to say, but Merielle interrupted him by giving him a soft slap on his head.

“Dating apps are stupid. You never know what freak you might date. I vote no,” she said, pushing her chest forward with her arms crossed over it. “And you owe me a mojito.” Merielle pointed her freshly manicured finger at me.

“Go on,” I instructed David, ignoring my friend.

Merielle slumped in defeat, clearly not pleased with the situation. I hadn’t said I would get the app, I was just curious and engaging in a conversation with David.

“It’s called Unlock, and you get five matches a month. The more you talk with a person, the more things unlock,” he explained. My eyebrows furrowed in confusion, and he’s quick to clarify. “Like their name, their profile picture, their age, and hobbies. The only way a conversation ends is if one of you decides you’re not a match and closes the chat.”

I wasn’t going to lie, whoever thought of creating this app was kind of genius. You didn’t have to know many details about your match unless you earned it by enjoying each other’s company.

But still. 

“Huh,” was all I said, propping my chin in my hand.

“Just try it, you can thank me later,” he said, then threw his arm around Merielle’s shoulders while she was still puffing at his suggestion.