No Strings. Cara Lockwood

Then you end up in a two-year relationship with them while they bore your friends to death.”

      Emma knew she was talking about Devin, her last boyfriend with the less-than-sparkling personality. He’d been the only other guy she’d seriously dated other than her high school boyfriend.

      “Not all of my exes are that way.”

      “You need to date around. Hell, sleep around. Not just commit to the very first guy who shows up. You know I’m right.” Sarah studied her friend.

      Emma twirled a loose tendril of hair around her finger and sighed. She glanced down at her flowy, flowered peasant top and her modest jeans and tried to imagine herself meeting up with Mr. Tattoo and taking all her clothes off. She simply couldn’t.

      “I need romance,” Emma declared. “There’s no romance in this. This is what men want. It’s not what women want.”

      Sarah snorted. “How do you know if you’ve never tried it?”

      “I know that this is just one more way men are manipulating us into thinking that what they want is somehow us being liberated,” said Emma, her women’s studies major coming out in blazing good form. “This is just Girls Gone Wild in sex app form.”

      “Em, can you spare me the feminist rant until after I’ve finished my mimosa?” Sarah held up her champagne glass.

      “No...this is what I do for a living.” She wrote freelance stories about women’s issues for a women’s online magazine, and she had a small but loyal following. “And because clearly you’re being manipulated by the patriarchy,” Emma declared and grinned. She knew what she sounded like: a militant femi-Nazi. But honestly, she felt like she was the only one who could see it—the fact that the wage gap was still a thing. And that the US was the only industrialized nation not to offer paid maternity leave, and...now there was Nost. Like Tinder, but in its most extreme form. The app men didn’t have to even try to get laid. She was all for the sexual revolution, but not when it meant that the advantage went entirely to men.

      “This is just...this is just one more way men have tricked us into getting what they want. Sex and no commitment.”

      “Fine, so delete it,” Sarah said, sighing, showing her exasperation, as she finished off the last of her meal. Emma, who had already devoured her blueberry waffle, wondered, not for the first time, how she and Sarah, so total opposites, ever got along. Their random pairing as college roommates had set off an unlikely friendship: Sarah, the impulsive redhead, who never flinched at a dare, and Emma, the bookworm, who one day hoped to run for elected office. If she were honest with herself, finding Mr. Right ranked somewhere between growing her blog readership base and putting money in her IRA. Dating just didn’t seem important at the moment—she was just twenty-eight. She had plenty of time. At least, that’s what she told herself. After her last disastrous relationship, where her boyfriend, Devin, chose a new job in Seattle over her, she just wasn’t too into the idea of putting herself out there again.

      “Actually,” Sarah said, sipping her mimosa. “You don’t even need to delete it. Your profile will become invisible to the guys on your screen in forty-eight hours.”

      “What? Why?”

      Sarah put down her fork, and looked exasperated. She flipped her dark red hair off one shoulder.

      “Because the whole point of it is not to have a relationship longer than that. Every two days, you get a whole new slew of potential guys and the old ones can’t find you. Every time, it’s new, and the best part is, there’s no awkward follow-up. You have sex and then—whoosh!—you disappear. It’s ghosting, but the app does it for you. Everybody knows the score. Nobody gets hurt.”

      Emma put her head in her hands and groaned. “Are you kidding me?” She peeked at Sarah from her fingers. “The profiles become invisible?”

      “That’s the point,” Sarah said. “Wham, bam, thank you, ma’am. Emphasis on the bamming part.”

      “Sarah! What about rapists? Serial killers?” Emma couldn’t believe her friend was even seriously suggesting anonymous sex. Wasn’t that beyond sketchy?

      “The good ones already have a background check. See that little v next to ‘Hot4U’? He uploaded a background check. No felonies. Nost verified him. So, you don’t have to.”

      Emma blew bangs out of her eyes. “What about...STDs?”

      “See that little c next to him?”

      Emma nodded.

      “That means he’s been tested in the last month. He’s clear.”

      “I guess they’ve thought of everything. You know, except real human intimacy.”

      “Ha. Ha. Very funny. Don’t knock it till you try it.” Sarah pointed at Emma with her fork.

      “Seriously, though, how can you do...this?”

      “I’m busy. I work sixty hours a week because those commercial buildings aren’t going to sell themselves. And, yeah, it’s kind of hot.” She took a swig of her mimosa, finishing it, and glanced back at Emma. “And, a one-night stand? I mean, who hasn’t had one of those?”

      Emma froze. She hadn’t, actually. She could never imagine herself getting naked in front of a stranger. She’d only ever had sex with her high school boyfriend, whom she’d dated three years before they’d even had sex, and then her post-college boyfriend, Devin, whom she dated three months before they’d done the deed. How could someone just... jump into bed with a man they’d only just met? By the time she’d had sex with someone she was already emotionally invested, even in love. She couldn’t imagine it any other way.

      Sarah paused, glancing at her friend and read her expression. “Wait. You’ve...never?”

      Emma felt on the spot, suddenly. Did that make her a prude? From the expression on Sarah’s face, the answer was yes. “No. Never.”

      “Not even...college? I mean, everyone has one then.” Sarah leaned forward, her shock evident.

      “Not me.” Emma took another sip of her mimosa.

      “Well, then. You have to do this. You can’t turn thirty without having done this.” Sarah leaned forward. “Look, why don’t we make a deal? You try it for forty-eight hours. Go on one drink date at least. You don’t have to sleep with anybody. But can’t you write about it? If it turns out to be so bad, rant about it online for your magazine.”

      “I don’t rant,” Emma corrected. “I discuss issues.”

      “Honey, you rant, but that’s okay. It’s one reason why I love you. You’ve got opinions and you’re not afraid to share them.” Sarah leaned forward and patted Emma’s hand. “What have you got to lose? You either get laid or you get the subject of your next article. Win-win.”

      Sarah had a point there. And it had been a long time since Devin moved to Seattle.

      “So what do I do?” Emma asked, holding up her phone.

      “First, you get a better picture than that,” Sarah declared, looking at Emma’s profile and wrinkling her nose in disapproval. She swiped Emma’s phone out of her hand and took her Elvis Costello glasses off in one quick swipe.

      “I need those to see!”

      “Not now you don’t.” Sarah clicked a few impromptu shots of Emma at the table.

      “No! Don’t... I...” Emma laughed a little, as Sarah clicked a few more before stopping.

      Sarah swiped through them. “Yes, that one.” She showed her friend the shot: Emma looking away, mid-laugh, blonde hair loose and cascading down one bare shoulder, her peasant top slipping ever so slightly downward revealing the curve of cleavage. “My shirt is practically