Page 38 of Swiped

Rami padded into the kitchen in his pajamas. He stretched his arms over his head. The morning sun streamed into his apartment like the rays of Heaven itself. Was he whistling? He felt like he was whistling.

Ian hunched over their pour-over coffee maker. An array of tubs, jars, and bottles surrounded him, as he added spoonfuls of various powders to the coffee grounds.

“Good morning, my friend!” chirped Rami.

His tone broke Ian’s concentration. He frowned and looked up from his chemistry experiment. “You got home late. Did you get lucky in the carnal and-or cosmic sense?”

“You know what? It was cosmic.” Rami dropped a tea bag into his favorite mug. “I met this incredibly nice girl. Finally. And I met her like a normal person, just sitting down to brunch, and poof !”

Ian sipped his steaming dishwater-colored brew. He placed an approving hand on Rami’s shoulder. “I’m proud of you, analog polliwog. What’s she like?”

“As I said, she’s nice.” Rami poured hot water over his tea. “And she’s totally perfect to bring to the BuzzFill party this week, and win Nat’s stupid bet.”

Ian hoisted himself onto a seat on the counter. His long legs still dangled nearly to the floor. He shook his head sadly. “Oh no, this isn’t good.”

“The fact that your ass is currently where we make our food? Yes, it is very, very wrong.”

Ian was unfazed. “I was afraid this might happen.”

As always, Rami couldn’t help but take the bait. “What are you talking about? Everything is finally working out!”

“You spent all day with this young woman, correct?”

“Her name is Allison, and yes.”

“And yet all you can tell me about Allison is that she is ‘nice,’ and she’s a good way to beat Nat.” Ian said this more like a question, when it was, in actuality, a fact.

Rami balked. “That’s all I said so far !”

Ian raised his eyebrows in a gesture for him to please go on.

“She’s an account producer or something.” Rami sipped his tea and searched his memory. “In advertising!” He scratched behind his head. “She just moved to San Francisco from . . . somewhere else. She likes sushi.” He gave Ian a defiant glance. “And sashimi.”

Ian shook his messy bedhead and grumbled. “I was mistaken. You’re not a polliwog, after all.”

Rami sighed. “I’d be happy about that, but I’m so afraid of what you’ll say that I am instead.”

“You’re a knight.”

“Knights are good. That’s good!”

“A knight who has become blinded by his crusade.” Ian hopped off the counter. He gestured to the dozen or so bottles of tinctures and powders. “You see all of this?”

“I obviously see nothing but all of that.”

“When my brain chemistry betrays me, I nudge it back on course.” He sipped his brew.

“But you? Your brain doesn’t betray you with serotonin.

It betrays you with ideas.” He started to put the bottles back into a Tupperware.

“That’s all that this full and complete, entire other person, Allison, is to you, my friend — an idea. ”

Rami squirmed as Ian wrapped him in a sudden, somber hug.

Ian sighed. “But you’ll never see any of that until you take off the bubble wrap,” he intoned, turning back to the jars.

Rami looked at the amber swirls of tea in his mug. He was suddenly very, very tired. “OK,” he replied. “Well, I’m gonna go to work now.”

He went back into his bedroom and closed the door.

* * *

Nat stretched underneath her covers in the morning sunlight as Thom slipped into her room with two steaming mugs of coffee.

He handed hers over — just the milky tan shade she liked. “Hello, sunshine,” he said in his rumbly voice.

She closed her eyes with a wave of desire. Would anything he said not be sexy in that posh London accent? Nat faked a frown. “Oh, hey . . . this is awkward, but what did you say your name was again?”

“Magnus.”

“Pleased to meet you,” she said with a smile. She sat up and sipped her coffee. It tasted like sweet justice.

Thom settled next to her on the bed. He was just wearing his black boxer briefs, and his strong chest with the blond curls of hair and smattering of freckles looked absolutely perfect nestled against her headboard. She ran her eyes over his defined legs.

“Actually, my name is Rami Zamir,” he said casually. He looked at her in wide-eyed innocence. “Have you heard of me?”

“No! Yes. I mean . . .” Nat’s coffee squelched in her stomach. “Listen, I was going to tell you.” She searched his cool eyes. “Today! I was going to tell you today!”

“You were going to tell me that you’re using me to win a bet and promote your app?” He raised his perfect jaw in a haughty angle.

“Forget it! You don’t have to do it.” Nat’s mind was already racing to fix the situation. “I’ll just call it off, no problem. It’s all just a stupid publicity stunt, anyway!”

His face broke into a smile. “Are you kidding? It’s genius!”

Relief flooded Nat’s body. Her heart felt like it might have stopped. She searched his expression, but he looked serene as ever as he sipped his coffee.

“I just wish it were with a more serious outlet than BuzzFill,” he said, scratching his stubbled chin.

“I know, it’s awful. All those dumb quizzes.” Nat ran a hand through his chest hair. “You’re the best, though.”

“And I do think that you could be a bit more aggressive with your marketing,” he added in a tight voice.

“So, you’ll still be my date?” Her conscience gnawed at her. “And to be clear, being my date means that you’ll be giving a live interview about our relationship on one of the most popular sites on the internet.”

“Of course it does, superstar.” He gave her chin a soft pinch. “And yes, I’m in.”

Nat wanted to go back to sleep and ravage his body all at the same time.

“I can’t let this Rami character win!” he said, setting his coffee cup on the floor. He wrapped his long legs around her and pulled her in close. “Plus, I could get in a word or two about myself, right?”

* * *

Rami walked Allison along the sparkling bay at Crissy Field, as dog walkers and kite-fliers soaked up the picture-postcard day around them.

“Favorite food?” he asked her.

Her face scrunched with mock distress. “Ooh, tough one! A Denver omelet, but only at Margo’s Diner back home at three in the morning after an all-night rager with the gals.

” She laughed at some hidden memory. “This one time at the diner, my friend Carrie . . .” She stopped and bit her lip. “Never mind. How about you?”

Rami thought he saw her eyes film over with tears, but it was also an awfully windy day. He shrugged it off. “My mother’s baingan bharta .”

“What’s that?”

“Never mind. Favorite song?”

“Oh, geez, well it’s kinda embarrassing but it reminds me of all my sorority gals, and then it was also the song I danced to in the Little Miss Western Minnesota pageant . . . do I have to say?”

“No, that’s OK. What about pets? Pro or con?”

“Pro! We had the cutest dog growing up. Her name was Buffy! And then one year, she had puppies out in the barn, and my dad let us each keep one but he didn’t tell us we could until Christmas morning .

. .” She trailed off again. “Sorry, I keep talking about home. It’s pretty much all I can think about, you know? ”

Rami took her hand. “Well let me take your mind off it.”

He kissed her, but her lips barely moved.

“Thanks, you’re really sweet,” she said softly.

He searched her face for the familiar, telltale sign of rejection, but didn’t see any. She just seemed to be somewhere else. He tucked a long, burnt orange curl behind her ear. “Be my date to a work party this week?”

Allison startled and looked at him with uncertain eyes. “I don’t know . . . meeting all your co-workers and stuff?”

“I work alone! So, it’ll just be other industry people who don’t matter.” He smiled. “It could be good networking for you.”

“But I moved here because I have a job already . . .”

“But you never know, right?” The scant forty-eight hours until the BuzzFill deadline loomed in his mind. “Come on! Be my devastatingly beautiful plus-one?”

A smile broke through her gloom. “All right, all right!” She sighed in self-recrimination. “Geez, it’s just a party, after all. Sorry I’m such a downer.”

He pulled her close. “You’re perfect.” He moved in to kiss her, but she squirmed and ducked her head for a chaste hug.

Rami’s mind raced. It was technically true that he hadn’t told her all of the details of the BuzzFill event, but he had a strong feeling that a livestreaming interview would scare her away. If she was upset, he would make it up to her afterward. For now, everything was going to plan.

* * *

Nat couldn’t eat another bite. Thom had taken her to a French bistro pop-up with only a handful of tables inside a tiny, unmarked storefront.

Even Sara had allowed herself to be impressed when Nat told her about the reservation.

After cocktails, three courses, and a full bottle of wine, she was stuffed beyond thinking straight.

But even fully sober, she couldn’t have begun to imagine what all this would cost.

Thom took her hand over the white tablecloth. “I might be new to San Francisco, but I think I like it here.”

Nat let herself drink in his boyish blond curls, his deep blue eyes shining at her, and the way the tealight flickered on the angles of his cheeks. “I’m really glad you think so.”

Thom twisted one of the rings around on her finger as he spoke. “So, this BuzzFill interview tomorrow — the other guy will be there, right? Rami, is that his name?”

Hearing Rami’s name in Thom’s jungle cat voice sounded jarring to Nat, like clashing worlds. She shook her head. “He’ll be there, but you won’t have to talk to him. In fact, please don’t.”

Thom’s eyes sparkled at her with mischief. “Oh, you really don’t like him, do you?”

“It’s not that!” Nat blurted. “I mean, no, I can’t stand him, but I just don’t want you to be stressed about it at all.”

“Darling, don’t worry about me,” Thom purred, squeezing her hand.

Annoyance still flared in Nat’s mind. “Believe me, if we could do the whole thing by Zoom call, I would.”