Unpretty Me

Now Brewing #03: Slide into my DM's

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Isla stared at her phone, watching the little notification bubble pop up. New Message from LukeTheFluke.

"Oh, here we go again," she muttered, pulling her blanket over her head like it was some kind of anti-crush forcefield. Not that it worked. The temptation to read his latest message was stronger than her willpower, and before she knew it, her thumb was hovering over the chat window.

Her eyes flicked toward Marina the mermaid plush, who sat smugly at the edge of the bed.

"This is all your fault," Isla whispered dramatically, jabbing a finger at Marina. "If you weren't so darn cute, I wouldn't be getting charmed by random internet men."

The plushie, naturally, offered no response.

Isla sighed and tapped the message.

LukeTheFluke: "Hey, I was having a horrible day, but then I heard your latest song. You're like... musical Tylenol."

She smirked. "Musical Tylenol? What kind of pickup line is that?" Still, she felt the tiniest flutter in her stomach. There was something endearingly awkward about LukeTheFluke's messages. They weren't the usual "u up?" nonsense she got from guys in her DMs. This one was... thoughtful. A little weird, sure. But thoughtful.

Her fingers hesitated over the keyboard. Should she respond?

Isla's Inner Voice: What if this guy turns out to be a 50-year-old creep with questionable hobbies? What if he's just really good at pretending to be nice? What if he—

Her thoughts were interrupted by another buzz.

LukeTheFluke: "Also, Marina's really stealing the spotlight. If I ever get a mermaid plush, I'll name her SirenAngel 2.0."

She couldn't help it—she snorted. This guy was persistent, she'd give him that. And funny. And not in the trying-too-hard-to-impress-you kind of way. More like the oops-didn't-mean-to-make-you-laugh-but-here-we-are way.

Against her better judgment, she typed back.

SirenAngel: "If you get a Marina, you'd better give her a sequined tail. She has standards."

She hit send before she could change her mind and immediately regretted it.

"Why am I encouraging this?" she muttered, flopping back onto her pillows. "This is how people end up on Catfish."

Her phone buzzed again almost instantly.

LukeTheFluke: "Noted. Mermaid plush with sequined tails only. Got it."

There was a moment's pause, and then another message appeared.

LukeTheFluke: "Can I ask you something? It's a little random."

Isla's eyebrows shot up. Uh-oh. Here it comes—the inevitable weird question. She braced herself.

SirenAngel: "As long as it's not about my feet or what I'm wearing, go ahead."

Another quick reply:

LukeTheFluke: "LOL. No, nothing like that. I was just wondering... how did you start singing? You're so good at it, and I'm curious what got you into music."

Isla blinked. That was... surprisingly sweet.

She thought for a moment, tapping her phone against her chin. She wasn't used to people being genuinely interested in her story—most just wanted more songs or Marina content. But something about LukeTheFluke's question felt sincere, like he really wanted to know.

SirenAngel: "Honestly? I started singing in high school because I was too shy to talk to people. Music was easier than conversations. Plus, it's cheaper than therapy."

LukeTheFluke: "That's relatable. I own coffee shops, bookstores, and bakeries for the same reason—keeps me from having to interact with too many people directly."

Isla chuckled at that.

"Coffee shops, bookstores, and bakeries?" she thought. "This guy definitely owns a yacht. And probably has abs."

She could practically picture him: tall, tanned, wearing designer sunglasses, and lounging on a yacht deck while sipping some ridiculously expensive drink with too much garnish.

Meanwhile, she was sitting in bed, wearing mismatched pajamas and surrounded by snack wrappers. Life was unfair.

SirenAngel: "Wow, someone's living the dream. Are you secretly a billionaire who owns a yacht or just really good at managing your time?"

LukeTheFluke: "Nah, no yachts here. Just coffee stains and spreadsheets. But it's fun. Keeps me busy."

Something about the way he described his life made Isla feel... comfortable. He wasn't bragging or trying to impress her. If anything, he sounded as tired and overworked as she felt after a long shift at That's So Brewed.

She thought about telling him more—about the annoying customers she dealt with, about how her boss kept forgetting her name. But that felt like dangerous territory. What if she accidentally said something that revealed too much?

She decided to keep things light instead.

SirenAngel: "Well, if I ever need a backup career, I'll let you know. I'm pretty good at pouring coffee... when I'm not spilling it."

LukeTheFluke: "You'd be hired on the spot. We could open a singing coffee shop—cappuccinos and karaoke."

Isla laughed out loud at that, the sound echoing through her tiny apartment. A singing coffee shop? It was ridiculous. But also... kind of genius.

Their conversation continued late into the night, with Isla feeling more at ease with every message. LukeTheFluke wasn't just funny—he was easy to talk to in a way that felt natural and unforced. It was strange, having such a connection with someone she'd never met.

Well... someone she thought she'd never met.

Meanwhile, across town, Luke sat in his cozy apartment, phone in hand, grinning like an idiot.

He had no idea why talking to SirenAngel made him feel so giddy, but it did. There was something refreshingly real about her. She didn't try too hard to be cool or impressive—she was just herself. And he liked that. A lot.

What he didn't know was that the woman making him laugh from behind her phone screen was the same one who served him coffee every day at That's So Brewed... and whom he always accidentally called Irma.

If only he knew.

By the time Isla finally said goodnight, her heart was lighter than it had been in a long time. She placed her phone on the nightstand, gave Marina a goodnight pat, and pulled the blanket up to her chin.

As she drifted off to sleep, one thought lingered in her mind:

What if LukeTheFluke isn't just some random internet stranger? What if he's... someone closer than I think?

The idea was both thrilling and terrifying. But for now, she decided not to overthink it. She'd deal with reality later.

For tonight, she had sweet dreams—and a silly, charming internet crush who made her laugh when she least expected it.

And that was enough.

At least... for now.

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