Dylan
Dylan: Yo.
Ryder: What’s up?
Dylan: My sister wants me to use a matchmaker.
Ryder: Your sister is brilliant.
Dylan: That’s it? That’s all?
Ryder: Did you want a lengthy explanation? Or should I let you know I’m still laughing at the ad you posted?
Ryder: Did you post it for my amusement? If so, well done.
Ryder: Also, seriously. I feel responsible for this. Have I not done my best to train you and your brother in the ways of being rich, single, and in demand in New York City?
Dylan: Sorry, I can’t hear you over the sarcasm and mockery.
Ryder: I only mock you because you’re mockable.
Dylan: And I thought my sister was mean…
Ryder: You ain’t seen nothing yet.
Ryder: But seriously, man. I get it. I understand where you’re coming from. I also agree that you might benefit from someone to separate the wheat from the chaff. Do what Olivia says.
Dylan: All right. The master has spoken.
Ryder: Orders straight from the Consummate Wingman.
* * * *
I move the knight two squares over, then up. “So she’s doing this out of the goodness of her heart?”
Olivia peers at the chessboard in front of us in Washington Square Park. Without raising her gaze from the board, she answers, “She likes me, and she also sees it as her civic duty to help you.”
I laugh as I run a hand through hair that’s in need of a trim. “I’m her charity case?”
Olivia raises her face and winks, her green eyes the same shade as mine. “Dylan, don’t you know? You’re always the charity case. Comes with being the youngest.” She moves her rook.
“But I’m also the smartest,” I say as I capture her rook on my next move. I dangle the chess piece in the warm summer air. “Ha!”
“Foiled again,” she says, cursing.
“Anyway, you really think I should use a matchmaker? I’ll admit I considered it briefly when you used one, but it just seemed like the Internet had to be a better solution.”
“Can we agree now that the Internet wasn’t the better solution for you?”
I take a beat, reflecting back on the responses I received from my ad. None were from women who were “interested in new experiences and sharing all the good things,” but rather those who wanted to experience my bank account and share my wallet.
“Fine. At first glance, the ad didn’t entirely pan out. But you think this woman can find the one?”
Olivia shrugs casually. “I do think she can. I found Herb through her,” she says, wagging her left hand at me.
A cone of light from her diamond nearly blinds me. “I can’t see anymore!”
She laughs. “Exactly. Listen, to use your favorite analogy—it’s a no-harm, no-foul situation.”
I mime dunking a basketball.
“If you had any athletic talent, you’d have been dangerous,” she says.
“Ah, but I bet I would have made an excellent polo player,” I say, adopting a snooty accent.
She snorts. “Oh, too right. You’d have been bloody brilliant on a horse.”
“Also, don’t forget, I’m still fast, and I’m excellent at softball.”
She nods slowly. “Right. Slow-pitch softball. We’re all good at that, Dylan.”
I toss my hands up, exasperated. “And why do I listen to you?”
She stretches her arm to pinch my cheek. “Because you’re adorable, and you need help. Evie will help you. She’s sharp, direct, and fun. And listen, I wouldn’t feel right letting you go out on dates with women you meet from an ad. I know your friend Ryder would say the same thing.”
I nod. “True, that. In fact, he already did. So did Mia. The level of mockery she put me through was pretty intense on the Sarcasm Scale.”
“What are we waiting for then?”
“For me to win this game,” I say, sliding my queen toward her king at the edge of the board. “Checkmate.”
She scowls.
I park my hands behind my head. “It’s so satisfying beating you. Like, incredibly, absolutely, fantastically satisfying.”
“It was satisfying when I beat you up when you were a scrawny kid, too.”
“You never beat me up. Not once.”
She glances at her watch. “So much for me helping you find the woman of your dreams,” she says, and rises as if she’s about to dart off.
I grab her wrist. “Liv, you gave the most painful noogies when you were a kid, and I still have bruises on my skull to prove your strength.”
She smiles wickedly. “That’s what I thought. Anyway, why don’t you and Evie meet tomorrow? She has a tight schedule, but I can probably convince her to fit you in to grab a coffee and chat. She likes coffee. Correction—she loves coffee.”
I groan. “She’s one of those coffee snobs? They’re so hard to take.”
“You’re a tea snob.”
“Because tea is awesome. It’s classy. It’s unconventional. But everyone likes coffee.”
She flings her hands in the air. “Fine. How about boba tea?”
I crinkle my nose. “I’m a tea lover. Boba tea is like an affront to my senses, whether someone calls it boba tea or bubble tea.” I shudder.
“Perhaps try it then, snob. There’s a boba tea shop that makes the drinks by machine. You place an order and these robotic arms make it.”
My eyes widen. “I like the sound of that.”
“I thought you might. You guys can review all the details over your robotically-crafted tea balls.”