Tinder - D.JH.

eleven

As Missy and I finished out hour long lunch break, Dan and Phil finished their drinks, leaving as soon as we got back to work.

I work until six in the evening, five for Missy. After my shift, I take off my apron and hat, shoving them back into my bag before hurriedly walking to the tube to catch my ride.

When I get home, I strip off my clothes, leaving a trail from the corridor to the bathroom. I fill the bath with water and plop a bright purple bath ballistic into the warm water, getting in once it disintegrates, turning the water purple, silver, and sparkley. While in the bath, I play the dangerous game of scrolling through my twitter feed on my phone, holding it steady over the steaming purple water.

I think back to Dan and I's da--scheduled meeting at Starbucks. He'd told me his last name was Howell, but should I really go searching for him?

Regardless, I type his name into the search bar and a certified account pops up. It's him all right, but my finger hovers over the follow button.

C'mon, Maya. It's not like he'll actually see it. He's a Youtuber, he probably has his notifications off.

I work up enough courage to press the follow button. On an impulsive decision, I immediately follow Phil, too, from the recommended section after I followed Dan.

I exit the Twitter app from my phone and read the book Everything, Everything on my phone for the next hour. It wasn't really my genre, but Andrea had insisted I read it. Plus, the writing is fantastic, so I don't mind.

After I get out of the bath, I dry off and throw on some comfortable boyshort underwear and an oversized black Metallica tee that hangs loosely off my shoulders and comes to my mid-thigh. I walk into the kitchen, seeing what I had to cook for dinner.

Since I'm an twenty-five year old adult and I get to decide what the hell 'adulting' means, I shamelessly eat a bowl of Lucky Charms for dinner.

And then another one.

While watching Spongebob Squarepants on television.

Fuck off.

After I finish my dinner of champions, I turn off the telly and go back to the kitchen, fixing myself some sleepytime tea, which is just chamomile tea with more 'natural' sweetness in it so parents can get their kids to drink it and it winds them down before bed without tasting like actual tea.

I'm an adult, damnit.

Fuck off.

I take my tea to my room and sit it on the windowsill next to my bed. I turn my reading light on and grab an actual book as opposed to the book I was reading on my phone in the bath earlier.

But as I read and turn the page, I realise:

I haven't actually read this entire chapter.

I've literally retained none of the information given in this chapter and cannot, for the life of me, even guess how the plot had developed from the previous chapter.

I sigh, putting a bookmark into the spine on the page I last remember reading before closing the book and sitting it on my bedside table. I glance at my phone, picking it up.

I shouldn't, I think to myself as I type the name 'Dan Howell' into the Youtube search bar. Instantly, a bunch of results popped up. I clicked on his channel and scrolled through the videos he's made. I watch some that seem interesting.

So, like, almost all of them.

But mostly ones entitled with things like 'My Greatest Fear', 'The Memeing of Life', and 'Going Deep with Dan and Phil - ALIENS'.

Dan, I had learned, was just as charismatic, sardonic, and self-depricating for the sake of humour online as he was in real life. After watching a few videos, I subscribe.

Having finished my tea and feeling my eyelids start to droop, I plug my phone in for the night and call it a day, burrowing myself under my fluffy white duvet before falling fast asleep.