Page 33 of Swiped

The week was off to a rainy start, and Nat couldn’t help but check to see if Whither, Weather had called the prediction correctly as she rode the bus to the office.

It had — or rather, Rami had. For days-long stretches of rain like this, the mascot, Fun Sun, would be shown wearing a fuzzy gray cardigan and crying little blue tears.

Some of Fun Sun’s characteristic pointy rays would droop over his head, giving the effect of swooping bangs.

Nat had seen more than a few tattoos of Emo Sun on limbs around the hipster-y Mission District of San Francisco.

She stared at the cartoon on her phone and felt the now-familiar mix of being impressed with Rami and also infuriated by him.

His app inspired people to permanently ink it onto their bodies.

If she listened to Rami, all her app left on its users were scars.

Several soggy blocks later, she shook the rain off her umbrella as she dashed into the building.

In just the few days since she’d last been here, she’d made both Jo and Sara cry and storm away from her, but she had also secured a date with a man who was apparently perfect for her.

Was that a wash, maybe? Nat sighed and flipped on the lights inside the BeTwo office.

At least she was the first one here, so she could hole up in a corner and avoid the twins for as long as possible.

Opening her work email, she saw that Sara had replied YES to the calendar invite to attend the BuzzFill opening event, where she and Rami would declare the results of their ridiculous stunt to the entire internet.

Her heart fluttered — Sara couldn’t be that mad if she was agreeing to come see the interview.

Then she noticed the timestamp — Saturday morning, which was before their fight and ensuing weekend of icy silence.

Still, she hadn’t changed the RSVP, so maybe there was still hope that she would show.

Considering that Nat still didn’t officially have a date for the event — which was kind of the whole purpose of the event that was less than two weeks away — she was very much hoping to have at least a semi-friendly face somewhere in the audience.

Nat heard the office doors open, followed by the sounds of the twins grunting and squabbling.

“I said you should push and I would carry it!” Jo whined.

“Why would I let you carry it when you’re the one wearing heels?” came Justin’s exasperated reply.

Then there was a very loud thud , and both twins groaned.

Nat rushed out. “Are you OK?” she cried, taking in the sight of the twins rubbing their necks and looking at a very large, wet box on the floor.

Jo nodded but wouldn’t meet Nat’s eyes. She gave the enormous box a little shove with the toe of her kitten heels. “The swag arrived,” she mumbled.

“What swag?” Nat asked. She hadn’t ordered any new BeTwo merch and forgotten about it in all the contest chaos, had she?

“It was gonna be a surprise,” said Justin with a sigh. He was at least making eye contact with Nat, but his usual sweet tone was definitely missing.

“OK, well I don’t have to see what it is,” said Nat, trying to seem nonchalant. “I was gonna be heads-down on stuff all day, anyway.”

“No, it’s fine,” Jo snapped. She pulled her keys from her purse and sliced through the box’s tape with a loud rip.

Like the angriest kid on Christmas morning, she yanked open the flaps and pulled out a BeTwo-pink T-shirt emblazoned with the words Team Nat!

in loopy cursive. She held out the tee with an expressionless face.

“We were all gonna wear them for the final interview,” she said flatly.

Nat’s mouth opened, but she was speechless. She stepped up to the box gingerly, as if it might vanish if she got too close. No one had ever made her T-shirts before. She picked one up and ran her fingers over the lettering. No one had ever voluntarily been on anything like “her team”.

Jo sighed. “Anyway, it was a stupid idea, but here they are. We can burn them if you hate them. It’s whatever.”

“No!” Nat cried, clutching the shirt to her chest. “Don’t burn them!”

Justin picked up a shirt. “I told you the hemp blend was gonna be sick,” he said, rubbing it against his cheek like he was nuzzling a baby bird. “Soft on face. Soft on planet,” he cooed.

Jo let a smile flicker across her face. “OK, well we already paid for them so if we don’t wear them it would wreck our marketing budget for the quarter.” She held one up to her chest. “Ugh, people really need to align on what they call ‘ballet pink’ these days.”

Seeing Jo modeling a shirt with her name on it made Nat’s chest twinge with regret.

Even despite everything Nat had heard her say in the phone call, Jo had done this for her.

The shirts didn’t say Team BeTwo , they said Team Nat .

Why had she made them specifically to support Nat if she didn’t even like her?

Knowing Jo, she had definitely considered all options and implications before making a final choice, and there was probably even a spreadsheet somewhere listing it all out.

And yet she had gone with the personal support of Nat, and planned to publicly wear a shirt with her name on it, even though she’d also clearly said she thought of Nat as a cautionary tale.

It made no sense, but the millennial pink baseball tee in her hands insisted otherwise.

All Nat could think was that the shirts proved one of two things.

The first possible explanation was that Jo was so dedicated to doing a good job that she was willing to publicly support someone she disliked.

But Jo could have easily just gone with their usual BeTwo merch.

The choice to make it a personal gesture toward Nat was totally, as Justin would say, extra.

So, then the only other possibility was that Jo had actually really meant it when she’d typed out Team Nat into the order form for an entire box of baseball tees.

Even though it would have been after the overheard pocket dial.

Even though it would have been after at least one full day of Nat suddenly acting cold and tense around her and Justin.

Even though Jo thought she was “a lot” and her own worst enemy . . . Jo was still on her team.

Which meant that Nat had truly, deeply screwed things up with her.

Nat swallowed hard and tossed the shirt over her shoulder.

“Super great work,” she said, feeling the urge to shoot a thumbs-up rise in her body like a curse.

“Amazing stuff! I love—” She stopped herself before she blurted “you” and raised her clenched fists.

“I love them!” She grinned as the twins eyed her suspiciously.

“Really?” said Jo. “We were fifty-fifty on whether this would totally embarrass you.”

Justin nodded somberly. “We know how you feel about personal space, and we want you to know that we respect your boundaries.”

Jo nodded, too, and her voice took on a practiced tone. “We absolutely respect your boundaries.”

Nat gave a laugh that she hoped sounded delighted and amused, instead of mildly frantic.

“Boundaries-shmoundaries!” she cried, waving a hand like in a GIF she’d seen of Katherine Hepburn.

The twins just blinked at her, and she wasn’t sure where to go after that incredibly insightful bon mot, so she just laughed again.

Jo’s face crinkled with concern, and she opened her mouth to say something.

But then she shook her head and dug into the box of shirts.

“We’ll let you get back to being heads-down, but just one thing.

” She pulled out a tee from the bottom. “Here, catch,” she said, tossing it to Nat.

“For Sara. I figure it’s easier for you to just give it to her tonight instead of mailing it out with the other kits, right? ”

Nat managed to catch the shirt before it flopped to the floor. Her heart, however, was fully on the ground. “Right,” she managed to say. “Sara. Definitely.” Then she tossed the shirt over her shoulder and went back to her desk.

Maybe she would just send that one to her mom, instead.

* * *

Nat’s ride-share pulled up to the address Thom had given for their meetup. It was a full-on winery in Napa. Now she understood why he’d informed her that he would be wearing attire he’d defined as “elevated casual.”

She walked up the gravel path to the rustic-modern cabin perched on top of a grassy hill.

Her low heels crunched on the white pebbles, and the skirt of her coral midi dress swirled around her legs in a way that felt choreographed.

The afternoon sun lit the oak trees with golden halos.

The breeze was cool with the scent of lavender and multiple income streams. A hostess dressed in white coastal linens met her at the door.

“There you are, Ms. Lane,” she said with a serene smile. “I’m Alana. The VIP Lounge is right this way.”

Nat hesitated. “Are you sure? I mean, I know you just said my name.” Alana gave her a happy nod and beckoned.

They took a leafy path around the side of the building.

Gleaming hills of grapes unfurled in all directions around her.

Nat gathered her skirt as they climbed an open staircase to a loft space.

Alana seemed to be humming a soft, melodic song, or else music just generated from her pores, which also seemed possible.

Nat tried to focus on the tune to calm her racing nerves, but all she could think about was how bad she was at carrying a melody herself.

Alana stopped in front of a curtained doorway. She swept it open with a long, tanned arm.

“Wait, how do I look?” Nat asked. She gestured to the dress and resisted the urge to also point directly at her own face.

“Beautiful,” Alana said with a makeup-free wink, “and deserving, so enjoy.”

Nat took a deep breath and ducked under the curtain.