Better Than Tinder

Chapter Three

As soon as I step out of the building, I whip out my phone and dial Elle's number. She picks up almost instantly, her voice bursting with curiosity.

"Spill all the tea! Did they already find you someone?" Her shrill excitement threatens to pierce my eardrum.

"Relax, Elle," I chuckle, "I only gave them some papers, but..."

"But what?!" she presses eagerly, drawing another chuckle from me. I love teasing my younger sister like this, hearing the mix of excitement and frustration in her voice.

"But... Mister Adler is surprisingly a really handsome man," I finally reveal, unable to resist the playful jab.

There's a moment of stunned silence on the other end of the line, followed by a squeal of delight. "Ava! Are you serious? This is not a drill!"

I laugh at her dramatic reaction. "I'm serious! Tall, blonde, and charming. He's like something out of a rom-com."

"Oh my god, Ava, this could be it! The universe is finally throwing you a bone," Elle gushes, her enthusiasm contagious.

"Well... no. He's not one of the suitable bachelors. He's the owner of the agency," I say, trying to dampen her enthusiasm.

"Have you seen a ring on his finger?" she interrupts eagerly.

"Actually, no, but—" I start to protest.

"So he's single!" she declares triumphantly, cutting me off.

I sigh, knowing there's no stopping Elle once she's made up her mind. "I guess technically..."

"Technically nothing! This could be fate!" Elle insists, her voice rising with excitement.

"Let's not get carried away," I caution, feeling a mix of amusement and apprehension. "He's my matchmaker, not a potential date."

"You never know," Elle chirps optimistically. "Stranger things have happened."

Oh, yeah, if by stranger things have happened she means the woman who married the Eiffel Tower, then I am all for it.

"Alright, alright," I agree, knowing there's no point arguing further. "I'll keep you updated."

"Good. Now go get some rest or start planning your wedding. Whichever feels right," Elle teases.

"Planning my wedding already?" I scoff, but I can't help smiling at her infectious enthusiasm. "I'll talk to you soon, Elle."

"Talk soon, sis. Love you!" she says before hanging up.

I love my sister, but sometimes she is a bit too optimistic. She's my opposite in every sense: a light brunette with big hazel eyes that sparkle with perpetual enthusiasm, a literal ray of sunshine. She has a way of lighting up a room just by walking into it, her energy infectious and her smile capable of melting even the coldest of hearts.

Meanwhile, with my darker hair and abyssal eyes, I look like the distant cousin of Count Dracula. My features are sharp, with high cheekbones and a pale complexion that no amount of sun seems to tan.

Elle is all about the glass being half full, seeing potential and possibilities everywhere, while I'm more likely to point out the cracks in the glass and the fact that it's probably going to spill. It's not that I'm a pessimist, per se—more of a realist with a side of sarcasm.

Maybe it's the perk of being the older sister, being more down to earth, more grounded in reality. It's a dynamic that works for us. Even if her relentless positivity can be a bit much at times, I wouldn't trade it—or her—for anything.