“Yeah, it’s kind of like, crazy addictive.” She quickly types a hello to her newest match. She turns and raises her eyebrows. “Guess what level I’m at now?”

“Gold?” I act like I don’t know.

“Yeah,” she smiles. “I’m like, famous now.” Her phone lights up again, the headshot of a guy named Scott popping up. Next to his name, his status: Silver appears.

“Ugh.” She shakes her head. “I matched with him early on and he keeps chatting me.”

Sorry, watching the bachelor, can’t talk! Girls night!

“I have to at least say something.” She clicks lock and sets her phone down. “Last night I didn’t answer a guy because, like, it was clearly a booty call, and he unmatched with me because of it.”

“Oh jeez, really?”

“Yeah,” she says. “Only knocked me down 0.3 so it’s not a big deal. But if I want to keep my Gold I have to give little bread crumbs of conversation to guys like Steve, or they might knock down my score.”

“Oh.”

“I like some of my other guys though,” she says, as if she can tell I’m upset. “Here. I’ll show you my boys.”

She walks me through the cast of her own personal, digital version of The Bachelorette. There is a cute boy she once had a class with who is only a 5.6, and while she usually doesn’t accept requests from people who are unranked, he did offer to take her out to a nice dinner. While, on the other hand, a basketball player who will probably go to the NBA this year with a strong Platinum of 9.7, just keeps sending her group messages inviting her and every other girl he’s matched with to parties.

“He knows he can get away with it too, with that ridiculous ranking.” She rolls her eyes. “I’m always debating unmatching with him so he’ll be taken down a peg. But also, like, what if he becomes a Warrior?”

I nod knowingly, wondering how appropriate it would be for me to go in and “accidentally” cut his total score down to three.

“How about you?” She wiggles her eyebrows. “Any boys?”

I think back to the other day and that... I’m not sure what it was, with Robbie. When I looked in his eyes, I really thought I felt something, some sort of connection. Like maybe he liked me back. Like maybe we could be something.

The memory is kind of fuzzy around the edges, with the image of his face in my mind kind of glowing, and I’m not sure it’s only because of the pot.