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"This will never work," Callum mumbles defeatedly, dropping his phone on the couch next to him, making Marcus raise his head from the laptop screen.
"What?" he inquires after half a minute of silence, which Callum spends with his eyes closed and his head reclined on the backrest.
"How am I supposed to find anyone on this goddamn app? It’s just impossible," Callum finally complains, sounding exasperated.
"I’m sure there are a lot of nice girls and boys waiting for you," Marcus replies carefully, mostly out of duty to say something kind. It doesn’t work; quite the opposite, it makes Callum send him an angry look.
"Have you ever tried it?" he demands, and Marcus doesn’t see any point in lying, so he shakes his head. Unlike Callum, he enjoys nightlife and going out, which provides him with new acquaintances, and some—most, if he’s honest—of these don’t have anything against having a bit of fun without any strings attached.
"‘Course. Because if you did, you’d never say this bullshit," Callum spits. They have been roommates for long enough for Marcus to understand that his friend is on the verge of entering his sulking mood, which usually makes their cohabitation much more challenging than necessary. So, obviously, now he has no choice but to close his laptop and sit next to Callum.
"Maybe you just need to make more effort, you know?"
"Oh, fuck off. You think I don’t?" Callum scoffs, then grabs his phone, unlocks it, and shoves it into Marcus’ hands. "Here, try it. Come on, if you think that it’s so easy, find me a date then. I bet you won’t find anyone even remotely dateable."
"What do you want to bet on?" Marcus asks, accepting the phone and opening the app. It can’t be that hard, right? Knowing Callum, he is probably just too picky.
"If you find me a nice date, then I’ll be cleaning the apartment for two weeks." Marcus is just opening his mouth to ask when Callum clarifies, "Yes, even your bedroom."
"Deal!" Marcus grins; wasting one evening in exchange for being free from housework for two weeks sounds like a deal made in heaven, even without the added satisfaction of winning a bet against Callum, so he’s not going to pass this opportunity.
"Great, now find me a cute bloke to date."
"Hey, you didn’t say it should be a guy!" Marcus protests, as it reduces the number of potential candidates in half, meaning that he has to spend much more time on this task than he expected. It is still worth it, though.
"I’m saying it now. Or is it a problem?" Callum challenges, and Marcus shakes his head and says, "Definitely not."
The first thirty minutes are all fun and jokes, while Marcus reads out loud potential candidates’ bios and sardonically comments on the worst ones, swiping left. Then his jokes start to lose their zeal, being slowly replaced by weariness and even some kind of upset. There are more red flags than during a communist parade, and he can’t quite comprehend why all these people are so eager to show just how horrible their opinions are right from the start, though he is kind of thankful for it. At least he won’t lose Callum’s time on some arsehole. Hopefully.
After another ten minutes, he finally puts the phone down, much to Callum’s amusement.
"I’ll find someone," Marcus says determinately, his brows furrowed in a frown, and Callum pats his knee without saying anything.
Two evenings later, sitting on their couch and being hit by the strong feeling of déjà vu, Callum comes to the conclusion that their deal should've been a time-limited offer. He kind of misses his phone, which is now hogged by Marcus, his determination to get Callum laid becoming borderline obsessive. Callum is about to tell him that it is over and he lost their bet when Marcus raises his fist triumphantly.
"I did it!" he states with a tiny note of amazement in his voice.
“No way,” Callum replies flatly, only now—admittedly very belatedly—realising that their taste in men is probably quite different, and the fact that Marcus liked someone doesn’t mean that Callum will share his opinion. Still, he takes the phone shoved in his hand and studies the profile.
“He’s French?” he asks in disbelief, and Marcus protests defensively, “Hey, give the guy a chance!”
To be fair, Callum kinda wants to. The guy is handsome, almost unnervingly so, all his photos looking as if they could be from a fashion catalogue rather than a dating app; Callum immediately remembers the ones he posted on his profile and cringes inwardly. There’s no way someone like this can be interested in him.
Apparently, all his thought process is written on his face because Marcus says kindly, “Don’t freak out; you matched, he liked you. You can chat if you want to; he already sent you a message.” When Callum just nods silently, he adds, “My job here is done, you can start cleaning tomorrow.”
“Hey, no cleaning until I go on a date with him and enjoy it,” Callum protests, and Marcus gasps.
“No way, it was ‘find me a nice date’! And that’s exactly what I did!”
“We don’t know if he’s nice!”
“Well, he’s definitely nice-looking,” Marcus notes, and when Callum glares at him, he raises his hands in a peaceful gesture, “Alright, alright, let’s discuss details later, don’t leave the man hanging.”
Callum spends the rest of the day chatting with the stranger— Clement, or just Clem—and the more they talk, the more it seems like he lost the bet. Apart from looking stunning, Clem is funny and witty, and they quickly find a lot of shared interests to discuss. So when Clem asks to meet for a cup of coffee on the weekend, Callum easily agrees. The only thing clouding his joy is the fact that he has basically turned himself into Marcus’ maid for the next two weeks, but hopefully it will be worth it. The weekend can’t come soon enough.
When Callum wakes up the morning of the day, Marcus is nowhere to be seen, which he’s grateful for because he’s a bit anxious about it, and the last thing he needs is his roommate making fun of him, though a bit of help with choosing his outfit would be appreciated. He opts for a simple light blue shirt and a pair of jeans; after all, it’s just a coffee.
Callum enters the coffee shop five minutes early, but Clem is already there, sitting at a table by the window, and shit, he looks even better than in his photos. It makes Callum fix his hair nervously, but then Clem notices him, and the way his face illuminates with a smile makes all Callum’s nerves just disappear. They greet each other as Callum sits on one of the free chairs, his back facing the exit, and manage to exchange a few lines about the weather and the traffic before a waiter takes their order.
And then Callum’s up against one of the biggest disappointments of his life: they have no chemistry. At all. The more they talk, the more it’s obvious that while they share a lot of common interests, there’s just no spark, which, if you ask Callum, makes absolutely no sense because how can you not have any spark with someone this good-looking? It’s infuriating, honestly, and he can see that his date is coming to the same conclusion. The further their conversation goes, the more distracted Clem is, keeping looking at something over Callum’s shoulder, and while Callum accepts the fact that they won’t have another date, he’s still finding himself irritated by it.
“What’s there?” he finally asks when Clem doesn’t seem to be able to focus his gaze on Callum’s face for more than a few seconds.
“I’m sorry, but there’s a guy—don't turn around, for fuck’s sake—I think he’s.. following us?” Clem whispers, leaning over the table, “I saw him outside when I arrived, then he disappeared, then sat there about ten minutes after you came. He’s hiding behind a newspaper, but keeps stealing looks, like, every twelve seconds.”
“You just made it obvious that you had noticed him,” Callum says back quietly. “Besides, what’s so suspicious about a guy reading a newspaper with his morning coffee?”
“He really doesn’t look like the type of guy reading a newspaper with his morning coffee,” Clem shoots back. “Do you have a jealous ex or something?”
The question is so ridiculous it makes Callum laugh, and Clem sends him an annoyed look.
“I don’t,” Callum answers once he stops laughing, and then turns around before Clem manages to stop him. “I do have a very nosy roommate, though.” He then waits for Marcus’ face to appear from behind the newspaper, and soon enough it does, his eyes going comically wide once he realises he has been busted.
“Hello, mate!” Callum waves at him. “Do you mind?” he then asks Clem, who shakes his head, so Callum gestures to Marcus to come and sit next to them. After a few moments of hesitation, Marcus takes his backpack and approaches their table, looking rather embarrassed.
“Hi. Sorry to interrupt; I didn’t mean to,” he apologises. “I’m Marcus, Callum’s roommate; nice to meet you,” he then introduces himself to Clem, who by now has an amused smile on his face.
“Clement, but everyone calls me Clem. What’s going on there?” he asks once Marcus is seated.
“Nothing. I’m just… checking if everything is fine,” Marcus answers sheepishly. “In case you’re a creep or something,” he adds, making Clem laugh.
“Out of us two, you’re now definitely looking much more like a creep,” he notes, and Callum has to agree here.
“Hey, I was just worried for my friend! Imagine if I organised him a date only for him to be murdered during it. I really don’t want to look for a new roommate.”
“You organised it?” Clem asks curiously, and Callum watches in astonishment how Marcus’ face turns a deep shade of pink. They have been friends for years by this point, and he hasn’t seen Marcus blush even once. Interesting. Meanwhile, Marcus looks at him questingly, as if asking if it's okay to share the story. Well, it’s not like Callum has any future with Clem anyway.
“We had a bet that he would be able to find me a date on Tinder,” Callum explains, and Clem’s brows go up. “It’s kind of a long story.”
“Well, good thing that we’re not in a hurry,” Clem smiles, looking at Marcus, who hesitantly smiles back. Of course, Callum groans inwardly. Well, if his suspicions are correct, at least he’ll have a great bargaining chip later.
And then Marcus starts telling the story, getting more and more animated the further it goes, talking about the worst profiles he saw, and soon Callum forgets his annoyance and laughs along with Clem, entertained by his friend’s antics. He turns his head to tell something to his date, and the words get stuck in his throat as he takes in the way Clem looks at Marcus, so smitten that it’s not even funny. From the way Marcus returns these looks, Callum suspects he has to leave these two unexpected lovebirds pretty soon. Thirdwheeling on his own date, of course it could happen only to him.
Once Marcus finally stops telling Clem how they met, Callum takes it as his cue and makes a bit of a show of checking his phone, gasping, and saying how late he is. There’s a surprise written on Marcus’ face—he knows perfectly well that Callum is free as a bird until Monday—so Callum has to send him a very pointed look so he won’t open his mouth and ruin everything. While they are busy silently communicating, Clem clearly decides to take matters into his own hands.
“There’s a very good restaurant nearby; do you like Japanese?” he asks Marcus, who seems to lose his voice, just staring back at Clem wordlessly.
“He loves Japanese,” Callum answers for him. “Get him home before eleven, and don’t get hammered.”
“I love you,” Marcus whispers to him, and Callum grins.
“You’re so cleaning the house for the whole month.”