Once upon a very cursed time in Corpus Christi, during the dark age of COVID, Hannah—20 years old, preschool teacher, and professional juice-box opener—was living at her parents’ house. Not because she wanted to, but because rent prices were higher than Snoop Dogg at Coachella.
Bored out of her mind, Hannah downloaded Twizzler (a janky Tinder knockoff that mostly paired you with people you already saw at Walmart). After swiping through a parade of local dudes whose hobbies included owning two pitbulls and taking gym selfies with their mom’s shower curtain as a backdrop, she stumbled across Noah.
Noah was also 20, a police cadet, and—you guessed it—still living with his parents. His profile picture screamed “wannabe cop,” complete with aviators, a flexed bicep the size of a chicken tender, and the caption: “Back the blue, baby. Except when it’s 2am and Whataburger ice cream machine is broken, then I back the rage.”
Hannah rolled her eyes but swiped right anyway, because frankly, she hadn’t touched another human being in months, and Noah’s profile didn’t feature a live rattlesnake like the last guy’s did.
They matched instantly. Cue awkward small talk:
Hannah: “So what do you do?”
Noah: “Training to be a cop.”
Hannah: “Cute. I train toddlers to not eat crayons.”
Noah: “Bet they listen better than drunk people.”
Hannah: “Bet the crayons taste better than Whataburger.”
One week later, after enough flirtatious GIFs and more emojis than an iPhone update, they agreed to meet IRL. Because it was COVID, the date options were limited. So naturally, they ended up sitting six feet apart in the back of Noah’s mom’s minivan, eating Dairy Queen corn dogs, while his parents “ran errands.” Nothing screams romance like inhaling chili-cheese tots while Lysol wipes are sliding around the cupholder.
The chemistry was undeniable, though slightly interrupted by the fact that Noah kept bragging about how he could “totally run a red light without getting a ticket one day.” Hannah, meanwhile, contemplated whether she’d ever escape the tragic fate of being a Corpus Christi preschool teacher who got her first kiss in the shadow of a Home Depot.
By the end of the night, they kissed through their masks like two raccoons fighting over the last Dorito, and thus began the legend of Hannah and Noah: the Twizzler couple who proved that even in the darkest days of quarantine, love—or at least heavily chlorinated pool make-outs—could bloom in Corpus Christi.

Thanks ChatGPT 😂