Y/N had never believed in dating apps. They downloaded Tinder on a whim one lonely Thursday night after binge-watching a romance series and finishing a bottle of pinot grigio. Creating a Tinder profile felt like trying to write a résumé for your personality. Y/N sat cross-legged on her couch, phone in one hand, granola bar in the other, overthinking every detail.
First picture? Rooftop at golden hour. The lighting made her skin glow, her hair was doing that soft windblown thing, and she wasn't even posing—just mid-laugh, drink in hand. It was the one photo she actually liked of herself. So, that was going first.
Second pic: her at a bonfire with friends, blurry and warm. Not Instagram-perfect, but it looked fun, and that mattered.
Third: a mirror selfie in oversized sweats, hoodie up, holding her phone in front of her face with just her eyes showing. Cozy. Real.
Fourth: her with a giant slice of pizza at 1 a.m., eyebrow raised like yes I'm judging you but also yes this pizza is my soulmate.
She stared at the bio field for a full five minutes.
Do I sound chill? Too chill? Is it obvious I overthink?
Finally, she typed:
"Professional overthinker. Pancakes are mid, waffles forever."
Then added, at the last second:
"Not here for pyramid schemes."
It felt like enough. Honest, a little weird, and slightly combative toward pancakes—which, frankly, deserved it. She hit "save" and tossed her phone onto her pillow with a sigh.
"Okay," she whispered to no one. "Let the games begin."
Their thumb hovered over the screen for hours on endless profiles, a few dead-end chats, half-heartedly swiping left until a profile made them pause.
Swipe.
Swipe.
Girls' gym selfies.
Swipe.
Left.
God, so many guys holding fish.
Left.
Left again.
About to quit--
Then came Miko.
Her first photo was a mirror selfie: brown hair loose over her shoulders, holding a ridiculously cute puppy with one arm. She was smiling at her reflection, the puppy looking like it had a small smile. The next photo? Miko lounging on the edge of a yacht ocean stretched out behind her like a postcard. Then came a few more selfies—one in soft morning light with a casual hoodie, another showing off her very detailed and impressive back tattoo, and then another one of that damn cute dog.
Her bio?
"wassup"
No punctuation. No frills. Just that. Like she already knew she didn't need to say much else.
Y/N smirked. Confident. Chill. Kinda mysterious.
Intrigued—and maybe a little tipsy—Y/N swiped right.
"It's a match!"
And then—nothing. For an hour.
Y/N tossed her phone aside, already convinced Miko was one of those matches who just sat there silently.
Then, her screen lit up.
Miko: "Be honest. Did you swipe right for me or the puppy?"
Y/N sat up straighter.
Y/N: "Definitely the puppy. But I stayed for the yacht."
Miko: "Rude. The puppy can't even drive the boat."
Y/N: "Wait. Can you drive the boat?"
Miko: "Okay no. But I can look hot near it, and that's half the job."
Y/N: "I think that makes you qualified to run for office."
Miko sent a laughing emoji, then added:
Miko: "So what made you think you were cute enough to bully me this early?"
Y/N blinked, then grinned. She was sinking into her couch, legs swinging off the side like a kid, phone held in both hands, eyes glued to the screen. Her cheeks were warm, but she didn't stop typing.
Y/N: "What can I say? I bully with love. You seem like someone who can take it."
Miko: "Oh, I can take it. But I dish it back. Just warning you."
Y/N: "Mmm, I like a challenge."
A pause in the chat. Three dots. Then—
Miko: "Okay flirt queen. What's your name or should I keep calling you waffle girl in my head?"
Y/N laughed out loud. Her legs swung faster.
Y/N: "Y/N. And waffle girl is kind of iconic. I'll allow it."
Miko: "Y/N. Cute. You're lucky I like waffles. Otherwise this would be over."
And that was the start of it.
They messaged nonstop for three days, swapping weird memes, talking about tattoos and trading Spotify playlists. Y/N hadn't flirted like this in a long time—comfortably, playfully, without it feeling like a performance.
Then Miko said:
"So, wanna meet? I promise I don't bring the yacht on first dates."
Y/N replied:
"I'd be offended if you did. What kind of peasant yacht energy is that?"
Miko: "Second date. Yacht. You heard it here first."
