Danny Russo had finally reached his breaking point.

Not in a dramatic, screaming-on-a-rooftop kind of way. Not in a midlife-crisis, shave-your-head-and-move-to-Bali kind of way.

No, this was the slow, soul-crushing kind of breaking point. The kind that happened after years of pining for your best friend, only for him to keep doing things that best friends should not do—like stealing your hoodies, hogging your bed, and acting like you’re the only person in the world who matters.

So Danny was done. Done.

He was moving on.

And he had a plan.

A foolproof, rational, very smart plan that was definitely not a terrible idea.

Dating apps. Lots of them.

Yes, dating apps. The fast food of romance. The easiest way to meet new people, distract himself, and finally—finally—purge Jake Carter from his heart.

Because Danny was not going to spend another year torturing himself over a guy who had made it abundantly clear that he was straight.

Straight guys did not send mixed signals.

Straight guys did not get jealous when their best friend went on dates.

Straight guys did not steal your clothes or fall asleep on top of you or casually touch you for no reason.

(…Okay, maybe Jake did, but Jake was a weird exception and not an invitation to keep waiting for something that would never happen.)

So, dating apps.

Boom. Problem solved.

Or at least, that’s what he told himself.

Danny sat on his bed, phone in hand, scrolling through the app store with all the determination of a man about to make extremely questionable choices.

Tinder? Check.
Hinge? Downloaded.
Bumble? Why the hell not.

There was even one called “Schmooze” that matched people based on memes. That one seemed promising.

Danny was so ready.

New Danny was going to be bold, charming, and very much not thinking about Jake.

New Danny was going to swipe right, flirt shamelessly, and go on so many dates that he wouldn’t even have time to miss Jake’s hoodie-stealing ways.

It was foolproof.

Except, of course, for one small problem.

Danny’s finger hovered over the “Add Photos” button.

He had not thought this part through.

Because, suddenly, this felt… deeply embarrassing.

How did people do this without feeling like absolute clowns?

Still, he was committed. He would not chicken out now.

He picked a few decent pictures:

One at the beach, looking effortlessly sun-kissed (objectively his best photo).

One from a party, where he was definitely not drunk but also maybe a little drunk.

One of him holding a dog (because who didn’t love a dog pic?).

And, for good measure, one stupid meme that felt on-brand.

Bio. Okay. He needed a bio.

He considered something flirty, then immediately cringed.

Instead, he typed:

Writer, coffee addict, and professional overthinker. Will absolutely judge your taste in movies. Swipe right if you want to emotionally devastate me in Mario Kart.

Perfect.

Cool, casual, and not at all screaming ‘Hi, I am an emotionally unavailable disaster.’

Danny exhaled, pleased with himself.

Now, all that was left was the easy part.

Swiping.

The first guy was absurdly hot.

Danny immediately panicked and swiped left.

Okay. Okay. That was fine. Just a warm-up.

The next few were easier.

Right. Right. Left. Hard left. Right.

This was… kind of fun, actually.

He was actually doing it. Moving on.

And then—

BZZT.

Danny jumped as his phone vibrated.

A match.

He actually got a match.

New Danny was unstoppable.

The match’s name was Leo. His bio read:

Fluent in sarcasm. Can cook but won’t. Slightly feral. Swipe right if you have good taste in memes.

Danny huffed a laugh.

Okay, so maybe dating apps weren’t the worst thing ever.

He hovered over the keyboard, trying to think of a good opener.

He typed:

Danny: So, are we talking “slightly feral” like a raccoon digging through garbage, or like, “feral but still cute” like a stray cat someone is trying to rescue?

The little dots appeared almost immediately.

Leo: First of all, how dare you assume I’m not both?

Danny grinned.

Leo: Second of all, the real question is—are you emotionally stable enough to handle my chaos?

Danny: Absolutely not.

Leo: Great. Let’s go on a date.

Danny blinked.

Wait.

Wait, what?

Was… was this actually working?

He stared at the message, heart pounding.

He had never moved this fast before.

Was this what normal people did? Just… asked each other out like it was no big deal?

No overthinking? No pining for years?

Maybe Sophie had been right. Maybe this was what he needed.

Maybe—

His phone buzzed again.

Leo: Unless, of course, you’re secretly still in love with your best friend and just using this as a distraction. In which case, oof.

Danny choked.

How.

How the hell did this guy already know?

Was he that obvious?

Danny sat there, staring at the screen like it had personally insulted him.

Then, after a long moment, he typed:

Danny: Lmao what no I have no idea what you’re talking about.

Leo: Sounds fake but okay. Saturday at seven?

Danny hesitated.

Then, with one final deep breath, he typed:

Danny: Yeah. Seven’s good.

Danny was not going to tell Jake.

Jake did not need to know.

Jake did not get to know.

Because this was about moving on.

This was about Danny’s sanity.

This was not about Jake.

Except, of course, Jake had a sixth sense for Danny’s suffering and somehow immediately knew something was up.

Later that night, as they sat on the couch, watching some random horror movie, Jake gave him a long, slow side-eye.

Danny pretended not to notice.

Jake did not let it go.

“Dude,” he said, voice casual. “Why are you acting weird?”

Danny tensed. “I’m not acting weird.”

Jake squinted. “You’re definitely acting weird.”

“I’m literally just sitting here.”

Jake crossed his arms. “Yeah. Suspiciously.”

Danny groaned. “I hate you.”

Jake smirked. “No, you don’t.”

Danny inhaled. He was not doing this. He was not telling him.

And then, before his brain could catch up to his mouth—

“I have a date.”

Jake froze.

Danny immediately regretted everything.

Jake blinked. “Wait. What?”

Danny scratched the back of his neck. “Uh. Yeah. Saturday. With a guy named Leo.”

For one long moment, Jake didn’t react.

Then:

“Oh.”

Just that. Oh.

Danny didn’t know what he had expected, but for some reason, his stomach twisted.

Jake turned back to the screen, expression unreadable.

The rest of the movie played, but neither of them were watching.

And Danny?

Danny was starting to wonder if maybe this wasn’t as foolproof a plan as he’d thought.