Stupid Tinder.

His brothers had been nonstop gloating about their dates. Tim had felt left out, okay? So he'd signed up too. And now he had no matches. Cool. Just great.

He'd been busy regretting his life choices when his phone buzzed. Tim, who'd been halfway to dozing off, dropped the phone on his face, knocked over his coffee mug, and stained his brand-new shirt in the process of flailing awake. Dammit! Who was messaging him at two in the—wait. A match. A match! He had a match! Okay. Be cool. This was fine. He could do this. Breathe.

"Uh, hey," he typed. "Y-You're, uh, really cute." Nice, Tim. Smooth as sandpaper. Also, why was he stuttering over text? Who even did that?