Dog Days of (A Very Hot) Summer

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It was probably close to noon.

Not that it mattered. Suzi would have been content laying in bed all day, her thumbs practically numb from scrolling through the Doggos Doing Things Instagram account. Anything was better than facing the raw, hot, reality of summer - especially cute puppies jumping into pools and learning how to swim.

It was an exceptionally hot day in July - the kind that melted the rubber sole of your sneaker as soon as it touched the pavement, and the kind that made every other person on social media post videos of them frying an egg on the sidewalk. Suzi hated eggs. She had hoped the sweltering heat would keep the general public (including her potential suitors) indoors and far away from human contact.

As if she accidentally spoke it into existence, a text message from Trystan chimed through her notifications.

TRYSTAN: I've got nobody for you today. Pick your poison - tinder or match.com

Suzi rolled over onto her stomach, letting her hair fall in sad, limp locks onto her forehead. Sweat rippled down the back of her tank top and was a keen reminder that she had already sweat through two other shirts. Hopefully whatever unfortunately soul she had to muster up a date with liked their girls shiny, sticky, and soaked.

After contemplating packing up her few belongings and hopping on the first flight to Alaska, Suzi opened her match.com profile and opened the first message in her inbox.

BUTCH: Hey sugar, I'm looking for some high quality feet pics. red toenail polish preferred.

Suzi felt the contents of her stomach roll and quickly deleted message. Next.

CAMERON: Hey! I'd love to grab coffee with you. Would you be able to pick me up? My license is suspended and I'm banned from mass transit.

It was like the day of reckoning, and all the unsavory souls from Hell clearly though it was hot enough on Earth to surface and exist among the humankind. Suzi rubbed the temples of her forehead and switched over to Tinder.

Swipe left. Swipe left. Swipe left.

In short, everyone sucked. Suzi swiped through obnoxious, big-headed hedge fund managers, hippie wannabes that she could practically smell the weed on, and gamer guys that clearly still lived in their mother's basements.

As soon as she was about to throw in the towel and become a nomad in Eastern Russia, she stopped on a dark-haired guy named Trent. What really drew Suzi to his photo was the giant Golden Retriever he was coddling in his photo, his sandy fur windswept with his tongue hanging sideways out of his mouth. She clicked on his profile.

Hey I'm Trent. I skateboard and I'm still figuring out life.

As Suzi flicked through his photos, the same Golden Retriever made an appearance in almost all his photos except one - a cheesy family shot in front of a Christmas tree. He was flanked on either side by identical young women, with the same dark hair and wide smile as him.

Suzi had to do a double-take. Several double-takes, actually, as she went back and forth and back and forth through his photos, his teeth a brilliant gleaming white against his tan skin, and his hair the perfect balance of casual unkemptness and well-groomed perfection.

After taking a deep breath, she swiped right, then dropped her phone beside her on the bed. Suzi rolled out of bed and wiggled out of her sweat soaked tank top, grabbing another green one from a pile on her desk chair. It smelled faintly of leftover Thai food, but that was better than smelling (and feeling) like sweat.

When she picked her phone back up, fully prepared to go back to her Doggos Doing Things scrolling, she had a notification from Tinder.

YOU AND TRENT HAVE MATCHED.

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