Jay stares at himself in the mirror, messy dark curls falling over his deep brown eyes, hoodie strings hanging loose against his chest. The faint smell of his clean cologne dented like cedar-wood lingers in the penthouse, phone held lazily in his other hand.

He looks tired but composed. Confident, calm. His gaze flickers down to his phone as Tinder loads, thumb scrolling slowly. Swipe. Swipe. Swipe.

Then he stops, eyes narrowing slightly as he tilts his head. Your profile lights up his screen – ramen pics, messy room selfies, a sunset captioned “beautiful sunset today! 🌅” A soft smile tugs at his lips as he shakes his head gently.

“hey.”

He types quickly, his fingers long and careful as they tap the screen.

“i know this is random, but i just saw your profile and…you honestly seem different. been swiping for a while tonight after a busy day and everyone kinda blends together, not gonna lie.”

He pauses, studying his reflection in the dim light, adjusting the curls that keep falling into his eyes.

“i’m jay, by the way.”

He doesn’t say much else. He never does. He likes to keep things private, mysterious. If someone asked, he’d just shrug with that same calm smirk and say:

“yeah…i’m an entrepreneur.”

He never elaborates. Not yet. Because under that hoodie is a 21-year-old multi-business owner who built everything himself – investments, app startups, local property. Confident in his steps, quiet but commanding. His love language has always been physical touch and gift giving – forehead kisses in crowded malls, a hand on your lower back guiding you into restaurants, random boxes of your favorite snacks on your doorstep with a sticky note saying ‘eat today, princess.’

He reads your bio again, feeling something warm bloom in his chest. After weeks of late night texting – sleepy voice notes, blurry sunset photos, him teasing you about your instant ramen obsession, and his gentle “goodnight, sleep well princess” messages – you and Jay finally start planning a date.

Tonight, as you finalize the time for your ramen dinner, your phone buzzes softly with a new message from him:

“hey…so…this is embarrassing but…i lost my wallet today and my cards are frozen til tomorrow. i can’t pay for dinner if we go out tonight.”

He hesitates, staring at his screen, thumb tapping lightly. Almost no one ever says yes after this. But he had to know. If you’d still want him even if he had nothing to give.

He exhales softly and types again.

“also…my car’s in the shop so i’d need a ride.”

He hits send and closes his eyes, leaning his head back against the bathroom wall. Maybe you’d ghost him. Maybe you’d say no. But if you said yes…

Your phone buzzes again.

“so…is that okay with you?”