Page 13 of Swiped

Sara glanced up from the glow of Nat’s laptop. “Maybe?” She squinted and frowned. “Not with that skirt, though.”

Nat pulled off the shirt and fanned her armpits. “OK, but we can’t alter too many variables at once.” She tossed the shirt into the pile that was nearly to her knees. “It’s inefficient.”

“If you keep throwing clothes in that pile, it might gain sentience and murder us in our sleep,” said Sara.

Nat dug through the heap. “I can’t wear anything that I wore on a date before because that’s just bad luck. And all of my new clothes have a vibe that’s more . . .”

“‘Fun’ youth group counselor?” Sara offered.

“No,” said Nat, tossing aside a chunky brown turtleneck.

“Time-traveling Puritan?”

“Stop.”

“1950s accountant with a bad rash?”

“Nuanced!” Nat cried, pulling on an oversized Breton shirt with blessedly minimal wrinkles. “They’re nuanced.”

Sara handed her the wine. “Drink that.” As Nat took a large swig, Sara turned the laptop around to face her. “And look! You’ve got a new match already.”

“Oh, yes!” Nat took a second swig as she examined the man smiling out at her from the screen. “Oh no,” she said.

Sara frowned. “Really? I thought he was cute!”

“No, I know him,” said Nat. “Actually, I know his wife.”

“Ouch.” Sara refilled the wine.

“Should I say something to her?” asked Nat.

“Hell, no!” said Sara, taking back the computer. “You adopt that policy and you will be setting a truly exhausting precedent, trust me.” She shook her halo of glossy curls in emphasis. “Anyway, you’ve got like ten other new messages.”

Nat’s eyes widened with a realization. “Wait, are lots of guys on here actually secretly married?”

Sara scoffed. “Ask Santa the next time you see him.” She clicked around the messages as Nat stayed frozen in thought. “Um, hello, this guy’s hot as fuck!” She leaned in closer to the screen as if inspecting an ancient scroll. “Why haven’t I matched with him yet?”

Now, Nat shook her head for emphasis. “But if the user input data is inaccurate, then my algorithm can’t—”

Sara turned the laptop and tapped her navy, coffin-shaped fingernail loudly on the man’s picture on the screen.

Long dark hair, hazel eyes with just the right amount of crinkle at the corners, a gleaming smile that was somehow both sweet and seductive, and a shadow of stubble across a chiseled jawline.

Nat melted inside while her body practically leapt to the computer. “Hello,” she half-whispered. “Open his message.”

Sara clicked.

Nat read it aloud. “‘There she is.’” Nat smoothed her hair and felt a blush warm into her cheeks.

Sara gave a dry laugh. “Classic.”

“Yeah,” said Nat, swooning. “Classy.”

“Um, that’s not what I said.”

“You know, I read somewhere that men really respond to a confident use of exclamation points,” said Nat, suddenly sure of the Breton shirt.

“Why don’t you open another message?” said Sara, nudging the computer.

“Yeah, you’re right. I can’t get attached to the first cutie I see.”

“You sure can’t.”

Nat sidled up and clicked on the next message in her inbox. She read it aloud. “‘There she is.’” She gasped. “Wait, what? Is this a joke?” She turned to Sara, stricken. “You open the next one.”

Sara softened her face and lowered her voice like she was talking to a cornered raccoon. “Listen, you’re gonna need a thick skin if you’re gonna keep doing this—”

“Just open the message!” Nat hadn’t meant to screech, but it definitely came out that way.

Sara sighed and opened a third message. “‘There she is.’”

“What the shit is this?” Nat stood and grabbed the laptop. She clicked the next message. It just read, “hey.” All lowercase but also punctuated? Was he trying to make her insane?

Sara refilled the wine. “So, a lot of guys online just take a shotgun approach,” she said in the anxious possum voice. “It’s a numbers game.”

Nat whirled around. “A numbers game ? Not my algorithm!” She kicked the clothes heap in frustration. “It’s just a bad batch tonight.” She ignored Sara’s obvious frown of disagreement and closed the laptop. “And, anyway, this is what I’m wearing! Yay! Now I’m gonna go ice my eyes.”

She tried to slow her breathing as she headed into the kitchen. It was fine. Just a bad batch. She dumped some ice cubes into a towel and pressed them to her eyelids. Her algorithm worked. Obviously . She heard the clomp of Sara’s boots approaching.

“So, it’s been a minute since you went on a date, right?”

Nat leaned against the cabinets and spoke through the cold darkness of the towel. “A year. And a half . . . maybe longer.”

“Right, right.” She heard Sara crunch on some chips.

“And before you say it,” said Nat, “I’m totally ready to meet someone. I’ve just been too busy with the app.”

“Totally, totally,” said Sara. “Chip?”

Nat nodded and opened her mouth. “Wait, I think eating salty foods defeats the purpose of the de-puffing?”

“Maybe, but we finally got the honey mustard ones back in stock at the store.”

Nat dumped the ice in the sink. “Oh, hell yes.” Lately, Sara had been picking up shifts at a local co-op between her apprenticeship at a hair salon.

She’d always rotated between various jobs, almost as a rule, but it was nice when the perks included snacks and haircuts.

Nat grabbed a handful of chips and headed back to her room. “Are we sure about these shoes?”

Sara popped in holding up a pair of red ballet flats. “Maybe these?” She tossed them on the bed. “Anyway, I totally get the impulse to window shop like you do. No judgment.”

Nat slipped on the shoes and held up her purse. “These are good. But with this bag, though?”

“Oh, try your one with the tassels.”

Nat pointed at Sara like she was a star and dove back into her closet. “Brilliant!”

“But, I’m just glad you’re getting out there,” Sara continued. “Because, I have to say, it’s also really hard to see you, like, kinda isolated so much, you know?”

“Well, I don’t want to waste my time,” said Nat, dumping out the contents of the tasseled bag onto the bed. “So, yeah. I’m fine with waiting until I find the perfect guy.” She picked out the receipts, gum wrappers, and stray mints as Sara shifted uncomfortably.

“But perfect is, like, not a thing, right?” Sara asked gingerly. “For anyone?”

Nat looked up from prying melted gum off a quarter. “What do you mean?”

Sara stood. “Wait, no, hang on!” She dashed out and came back with a different pair of red flats. “I think the studded ones.”

Nat crossed her hands over her heart. “Really? You love those!” She slipped on the shoes.

Sara sighed with satisfaction. “Oh my God, yes . I insist!” She watched Nat beam and pose in the mirror and took a seat on the bed again. “It’s just that . . . no one person is ever going to be all the things for you, right?”

Nat stared at a few different colors of lipstick before dropping them all into her purse. “Well, you kind of are.”

Sara winced and managed a dry laugh. “I’m not, actually. That’s kind of my point.” She shifted on the bed and fiddled with one of the piercings in her ear. “It’s just really cool that you’re branching out a little, is all.”

Nat fixed her gaze on her mirror and applied another coat of mascara. “Don’t worry, I won’t replace you.” She dropped the mascara into her purse, too.

Sara nodded. “Yeah, totally. But . . . you could if you wanted to.”

Nat frowned and looked at her friend. Sara was squirming, but her face was firm.

What was this about? “Well, no one is forcing you to be my friend,” Nat said, instantly regretting how much meaner it sounded out loud than it had in her head.

She was nervous. Her edges got sharper when she was nervous.

“You know I love you, and I love being your friend.”

“But?”

Sara’s face scrunched up in uncomfortable sadness. “Sometimes it’s a lot of pressure for just one person, you know?”

Nat turned back to her mirror. She did know.

It had always been her pattern to find one close friend and then consider herself done with the socializing stuff.

The reasons why were numerous — it wasn’t easy for her to make friends, and fewer friends meant lower odds that they’d turn into a mean girl (which technically hadn’t happened since third grade, but still hurt).

Plus, even Nat could recognize that she was a little on the unusual side as far as her female peers.

It had all been covered by school counselors and concerned talks with her mother many times before.

In Nat’s experience, people who actually liked her were rare, and the process of trial and error was agony. So, she liked to stick with success once she found it, or in the case of dating, try to set herself up for success as much as possible before taking a risk.

Nat sprayed a final coat of setting mist on her makeup. “I have other friends,” she said. “You’ve met Jo.”

Sara nodded with an approving grunt. “Jo is cool.”

Nat forced a smile as she fanned her face dry. “Are you trying to freak me out before this date, or something? Did you place a huge bet on me losing this stupid competition?”

Sara’s face lit with genuine warmth. “Just a cool milli, no big deal.”

The two friends met each other’s gaze in the mirror for a moment.

Sara’s round face and olive skin, with cat eye liner sharp around her brown eyes, button nose lit with highlighter, and pouty red lips that always seemed set to crack a joke.

Then there was Nat’s narrow face with her wide green eyes, long nose and thin lips permanently set in a wry twist. Sometimes, Nat wondered if she and Sara would be friends if they’d met now, in their thirties, instead of in college.

But that line of thinking always led to her trying to imagine her life without Sara, and that was too lonely to consider, even for her.

Nat stood and turned to her friend. “Well, sorry to make you lose your bet, because this is who I’m gonna be gazing at all night.

” She held out her phone with Mr. Downtown’s profile pulled up.

He wasn’t quite “There She Is” Guy levels of white-hot gorgeousness, but he had a surfer boy cuteness, broad shoulders, and a confident smile.

“Oh, hey there, Eric,” Sara cooed. “Six foot three, I don’t hate that.”

“That means he’s taller than Rami,” Nat blurted.

Sara’s eyebrows shot up, and her eyes flared with amusement. “Interesting reaction.”

“I just mean that he’s hot! Eric, I mean.” Nat shook her head. “I’m just nervous. Whatever.” She looked at her finished look in the mirror and shook the random thought of Rami from her mind. She gestured to her finished look with a little twirl. “All good?”

Sara kissed her fingertips. “Beyond good. Gorgeous.” Her eyes misted a little as Nat giggled. “So just . . . remember to sit with it a bit if it’s uncomfortable, OK? Sometimes it takes a minute to feel a connection.”

Nat shook her head and pulled on her coat. “Free drinks with a hot guy.” She gave a loud mock sigh. “I’ll try to enjoy it.” Then she held out her arms for a hug, squeezed Sara’s familiar softness with a burst of powdery, fresh makeup scent, and slipped out the door.

Sara sighed and refilled her wine.