Chapter Text
Claire had never given too much thought to the act of swiping. It wasn’t meant to be something you thought about. If you did, it kind of defeated the point. It was basically meaningless scrolling dressed up as a possibility. Muscle memory by now—her thumb moving almost absently across the screen, left, left, right, left again. Faces blurred into one another. Smiles being curated to look effortless, almost model-like. Bios engineered to feel spontaneous (they weren’t).
It was all familiar in the way things became when you did them often enough: not significant at all. Just… there. Something to do at the end of the day. Something to fill the quiet. The very specific, slightly depressing silence of twenty-first-century online dating—the kind everyone in their twenties pretended not to care about, whilst still opening the app every night to avoid loneliness.
She had only just opened it again. Another Friday night spent alone in her apartment.
There hadn’t even been time to settle into it yet—no rhythm, no pattern, not even the mild detachment that usually came after a few minutes of swiping. Still, she dragged her thumb across the screen.
Swipe right. It’s a match!
“Damn,” she murmured under her breath, shifting against the cushions of her couch. “That was fast.”
Not impossible. Just… unusually immediate. And honestly? Kind of boring. Nothing was exciting anymore in the age of instant gratification. The app liked to make things feel instantaneous, sure—but there was usually at least a second, a flicker of delay, enough to pretend the other person had just liked you back in real time.
This felt different, too clean. So she kept going. Another face. Another bio she didn’t fully read. Claire halted this time. Her thumb hovered mid-air, the motion interrupted before it could complete itself again.
James Fraser, 23.
“Freshly graduated from Business school, looking to have fun during my summer break.”
She frowned slightly, tilting her head as if that might shift something into place. “That’s… not how this works,” she muttered. Then, after a beat—“Lucky bastard. Unemployed and hot.”
Profiles didn’t repeat. Not like that, not immediately. There were algorithms for that. Rotations. Distance filters. Entire systems built specifically to avoid showing the users the same person twice in a row. And yet—there he was.
A ridiculously good-looking boy. Soft, almost unguarded smile. The kind that didn’t feel practised. The way he looked at the camera—direct, but not performative. Like he wasn’t trying to sell anything; he didn’t need to try at all.
This time, the screen didn’t load immediately. For a second, the app glitched. And she saw a conversation already opened. Texts. Message bubbles. Familiar layout―just the usual dating app activity. The interface reset itself smoothly, as if nothing had happened. Claire let out a small breath, something between a laugh and a quiet exhale.
“Okay,” she said, glancing around her empty apartment like someone else might confirm it for her. “Weird.” She stared at the screen for a second longer than necessary. Then tapped into the chat, and it opened instantly. There were messages.
Claire’s stomach tightened—not enough to call it fear, but enough to notice.
Jamie: you didn’t show up
Claire: sorry, i had to double shift
Jamie: u said it would be different
Claire blinked. Then, at last, let out a small, disbelieving laugh. “The fuck is this one?” She shifted on the couch, pulling one leg under her as she stared at the screen. “Okay… creative first move,” she muttered, half-amused, half-confused.
Without overthinking it, she typed:
Claire: ????
Sent.
Her gaze lingered on the chat. Because now that she was really looking at it, something felt off. There was nothing casual about the conversation. Nothing exploratory. Nothing light in the way, first messages usually were. No introductions. No awkward humour. No “hey”. Just… continuation.
Claire swallowed, her throat suddenly a little dry. Her eyes dropped to the names again.
Jamie. Claire.
Her messages were there. Clear. Natural. Completely in her voice. She didn’t remember typing them. The thought slipped in quietly. Not dramatic. Not loud.
“I don’t remember sending this,” she frowned slightly, leaning back into the couch. “Maybe I drunk texted him,” she murmured to herself. It wasn’t impossible. It wouldn’t even be the first time, but even as she said it, something didn’t sit right, because she could usually tell. There was always a shift in tone—a typo, something a little off.
This sounded exactly like her. Her phone buzzed in her hand. The reply came faster than it should have.
Jamie: that’s not funny
Claire’s expression shifted, just slightly. She stared at the message. Then typed again, slower this time.
Claire: i think you have the wrong person
The three dots appeared immediately.... Paused... Disappeared... Came back… A subtle, creeping awareness that this wasn’t just a weird guy doing a bit. The message came through.
Jamie: no, i don’t.
Jamie: you always say that at the beginning.
Claire’s fingers stilled over the screen.
Claire: lol? wdym?
Jamie: are you free now?
Jamie: wanna hang out?
Claire stared at the screen a second longer than she should have. Her thumb hovered over the keyboard. This was where she was supposed to say no; she was literally in her pyjamas after a long week of work at the hospital, where she was completing her residency. At least hesitate properly, ask for another day. Suggest something safer. More planned. Less… immediate.
But she understood too well, that was how it worked.
Claire: i mean… i guess
Claire: where?
She hit send before she could rethink it. The response came instantly.
Jamie: there’s a bar five minutes from you
Jamie: you’ll know it when you see it
Claire blinked. “That’s not cryptic at all,” she muttered. The app revealed they were only 1.5 kilometres away from each other. As if it was not dangerous enough that apps get access to the users’ location, but they also notify others about that… Welcome to the tech era! The more she thought about it, the creepier it sounded.
But she was already standing up, because she had nothing else to do that night. It happened fast from there, too fast to analyse properly. She walked through the apartment, pulling open the wardrobe with more force than necessary, scanning clothes without really seeing them. Something casual. Something that didn’t look like she had tried.
Something that definitely didn’t look like she had agreed to meet a stranger on the same night he asked. “Just a drink,” she murmured, pulling out a black top.
Her reflection caught her attention as she walked in front of the mirror. Claire paused. She looked… tired, not in a dramatic way. Just the kind of tiredness that settled into your face after too many long shifts and not enough time to process anything outside of them.
For a moment, she considered stopping. This was impulsive. Unnecessary. Slightly reckless, even. She didn’t even know him.
“You always say that at the beginning.”
Claire frowned. “Shut up,” she muttered—though she wasn’t entirely sure if she meant him or herself. She changed quickly and ran a hand through her hair instead of properly fixing it. Minimal effort, controlled. Not even make-up on her face, just some lipstick to enhance her paleness vaguely. As if she hadn’t tried too hard, which she hadn’t. It wouldn’t mean anything; it shouldn’t.
Her phone buzzed again.
Jamie: u coming?
Claire grabbed her jacket.
Claire: yeah. drop the address, ig?
She didn’t give herself time to think after that. The night air hit her immediately as she stepped outside. Cool. She opened her chat with Geillis, her best friend, and sent her her live location. The unspoken safety rule between girls: when you get a live location… It's because girl is going on a date.
Geillis: you dirty! have fun, bestie. lmk when you get home safe!
Edinburgh at night had a way of feeling both quiet and alive at the same time—streets dimly lit, voices echoing faintly from somewhere unseen, the city stretching around you in layers of old stone and new movement. Claire walked faster than usual after looking at the pin he sent her. Ovulation is crazy, she thought to herself. Not really rushing, though, just committed, because she was, sadly, still a woman walking alone at night.
It didn’t take long to find the place. Jamie had been right. She did know it when she saw it.
Warm lights spilling out onto the street, low music leaking through the partially open door, people gathered outside, half-laughing, some smoking, existing in that loose, effortless way that belonged to Friday nights. Claire slowed as she approached. This was the moment. The point where she could still turn around and go home, pretending this had been a weird interaction that didn’t need to become anything more. Her hand tightened slightly around her phone. She exhaled, then pushed the door open.
The noise wrapped around her instantly. Music. Voices. Glasses clinking. Warmth.
Claire scanned the room and found him almost immediately. Jamie was already looking at her and raised his hand to guide her, as if he’d known exactly when she would walk in. He was leaning back in his chair, one arm draped casually over the table, a drink in front of him that he hadn’t really touched. Relaxed, but not distracted—focused.
On her.
For a second, Claire just stood there. It wasn’t as dramatic, a slow-motion realisation. There was no sudden shift. Just a pause. Then he stood. Not rushed, nor awkward.
“Claire,” he said. Her name landed easily in his mouth. Too casual. She walked toward him despite how unsettling it was.
“Jamie.” Up close, he looked exactly like his pictures. Maybe better. Less filtered. More real. Attractive.
“Hi,” she added, because the silence stretched just a second too long.
Jamie smiled slightly. Not wide. Not performative. “Hi.” Another pause.
Then Claire let out a small breath, gesturing toward the table. “So… this is the mysterious place I was supposed to recognise?”
“Aye.” A flicker of amusement crossed his face. She sat. He sat after her. Claire reached for the menu out of habit, even though she wasn’t really reading it—something to anchor herself, something normal.
“You do this often?” She asked lightly. “Invite strangers out with zero context?” Jamie held her gaze.
“Only you.” Claire huffed out a quiet laugh, shaking her head.
“Sure. That’s not concerning at all,” she laughed. But something in her chest tightened anyway. Because it didn’t feel like a line, it felt like a fact. “Not gonna lie,” she added, almost too casually, “I didn’t even know we already had a conversation in the app.” The words slipped out before she could stop them. Jamie didn’t react immediately. His expression shifted, barely noticeable if she hadn't been looking at him.
“Aye,” he said after a moment.
Claire frowned, a small crease forming between her brows. “That’s it?” She pressed, a hint of amusement in her voice. “No ‘must have been a glitch’, no ‘wrong chat’, nothing?”
Jamie leaned back in his chair, studying her for a second longer than necessary. “No,” she said after letting out a short breath. “Should I?” Another pause. A bit longer this time. As if she was choosing what to say. Or what not to. “I thought you might.”
Claire’s chest tightened, just slightly, unnoticeably. “That’s… not an answer.”
He almost smiled, “No”, he uttered in a quiet voice, the corner of his lips tugging up as if challenging her. “It’s not.”
Silence settled between them again. Claire leaned back, crossing one leg over the other, forcing a lighter tone.
“Okay,” she said. “Either I blacked out and had a full conversation I can’t grasp, which is not ideal, or your app is haunted.” That got her an actual reaction from him. A small laugh, this time.
“Aye,” Jamie said. “Something like that.” He didn’t elaborate. For some reason, that made it worse.
The bartender came to them and placed their drinks on the table. Jamie had already ordered margaritas before she arrived. Why would he waste any time getting me drunk? Claire thought, but grabbed it anyway and took a longer sip than necessary.
“So,” she said, setting the glass down. “What’s your deal?”
“My deal?” Jamie raised an eyebrow, amused.
“Yeah,” she shrugged. “You asked me out of the blue, act as if we’ve met before, and won’t explain it? That’s your deal.”
Jamie leaned back slightly, watching her. “Or maybe I just wanted a drink with you.”
Claire let out a short laugh. “Right. And I just happened to say yes to a random guy who talks to me in a riff.”
“Aye,” he said lightly. “Disappointed?”
She shook her head, reaching for her drink again. “You’re very confident."
“Am I wrong?” Jamie smiled.
She met his gaze, didn't look away. “Yes.”
That should’ve ended it. Most people back off a little after that. Shifted. Softened. Jamie didn’t, which pissed her off a bit.
“If I were,” he said, quieter now, “you wouldn’t still be here.”
Claire held his gaze for a second longer, then looked away. “Or maybe I'm the one who just needed a drink,” she said. “I, unlike you, am not free. I spent the whole week working, actually.”
“Well… that’s not fair, I’ve just graduated,” he replied. “The job market sucks at the moment.”
They started talking about their lives. Claire told him she was doing between her residency whilst trying to figure out whether to continue her studies to become a surgeon. He was impressed by her, considering he had studied Business Administration, nothing too grand about it. Especially if you came from really wealthy families―which he kind of did, but wasn’t really proud of, for many reasons.
“You staying for another round?” Jamie asked. Claire looked at her empty glass, then at him.
She felt drawn to how at ease he was, it made her feel like it was safe to be around him. She should’ve said no. Instead, Claire said, “Or maybe we should go somewhere quieter.”