Absolutely Not in Love (Sweater Weather, #7; Appies, #2)

by Jenny Proctor

“What’s your opposition?” “I just don’t understand why people can’t meet the old-fashioned way anymore,” I say. “Browsing in a bookstore or picking out oranges at the grocery store. Why does it always have to start on the internet?” “Because it’s hard to meet people when everyone is so glued to their phones,” Summer says matter-of-factly. “Unless you want to spend every weekend trolling bars, and the older I get, the worse that sounds. At least on a dating app, I can filter out the ones who have no potential without wasting a good outfit or money on drinks I don’t want or need.” “Okay. Fair point” I say. “I still don’t want to do it.” “Fine,” Summer says, holding up her hands. “Suit yourself. But I’m just saying, it would probably be a lot easier to find your angsty musician if you were willing to try it.” She smiles, and I sense her interrogation finally losing steam. Her comment about an angsty musician is a throwback to the type of guy I dated in college. Tall, waify, achingly broody. The exact opposite of Gavin and every other hockey player I’ve ever known—something I definitely did on purpose. The violinist I dated the longest, Anton, was an aspiring conductor who had angular cheekbones, jet-black hair, and a permanent five-o’clock shadow. He was aloof and gorgeous and mysterious—and a terrible boyfriend. But man, could he play the violin.