Page 39 of Swiped

Thom frowned. “No, no, that wouldn’t work, would it?” He froze, dramatically, his fork in front of his face, mid-bite, and stared unblinking into space.

Nat laughed at his pose. “Ugh, you’re right! It’d freeze right when I was sneezing or something and then that would be the image of me out there forever.”

He relaxed a bit then froze up again, eyes shining at his joke. “I . . . BeTwo . . . dating,” he bleated in a robotic voice.

Nat laughed, again but softer this time.

His eyes flicked to the couple at the table nearby as he froze a third time on the way to grab his wine glass. “Ehhhh-eh-eh!” he said in a loud robotic glitch, eyes darting to see if the other table was noticing his performance.

Nat felt her smile start to ache, and her cheeks burned. Her shoulders pinched in embarrassment.

The waiter returned. “Dessert? Coffee?”

Thom turned to him and then froze. He jutted his chin, and his eyes bulged. “Bad . . . connection . . .”

The waiter blinked. “I’m sorry?”

Nat forced an open-mouth laugh as she pushed Thom’s rigid arm down. “Ohmygod, you’re so funny. Stop!” She looked at the waiter. “Maybe just the check?”

“No, no!” Thom’s face was flushed with satisfaction. “Two espressos and, what do we think about the chocolate torte?”

Nat gave an embarrassed laugh. “Well, the interview is tomorrow. I can’t be up all night.”

Thom’s eyes took on their theatrical gleam, and he mock whisper-yelled, “Don’t worry, I’ll tire you out!”

Nat felt the color drain from her face as the waiter managed a polite chuckle.

He winked at the waiter. “So just those things, then the check. Thanks, mate.”

She pretended to arrange her napkin on her lap. “So, tomorrow we won’t be having two Manhattans before the interview . . .”

“Oh, come on. He thought it was funny!” Thom was back in his posh posture.

He arched an eyebrow. “We’re adults at a fancy restaurant.

No one thinks we’re going home to read Scripture to one another.

” A seductive grin curled into his face as he brought her hand to his lips.

“What a waste that would be,” he cooed with a kiss on her knuckles.

Nat felt her body warm to him as the espressos arrived. “Well, we can run through what to say tomorrow one more time, I guess.”

* * *

An hour later, in her bed, Nat tried to summon that warmth as Thom’s naked body hovered over her.

Despite having been in one hell of a dry spell, Nat loved sex, craved sex, and usually couldn’t wait to have sex with her partner.

But tonight, it was awkward — all she seemed to feel were elbows and apologies and re-positioning.

Finally, Thom had made it inside her, and she watched the cords of his neck move as he thrust into her.

Sometimes friction felt like magic, and sometimes it felt like skin being rubbed raw. She winced.

“Am I hurting you?”

“No, sorry! Sorry, it’s just my nerves about the interview.”

“Totally understandable.” He kept thrusting.

She watched his jaw shifting above her. “You don’t think this is a huge mistake, right? Like I’m about to destroy my entire life’s work?”

“Relax. Shh-shh-shh . . . I’ve got you . . .”

He brought a hand between her legs and kept thrusting.

“Mmm . . . OK . . . yes . . .” she tried. She closed her eyes. Time to quiet her mind and be in her body. Time to shut out every other sensation besides the one she needed to feel right now. Everything else could wait.

Her phone pinged. Nat jumped.

“Ow!” cried Thom.

“I’m sorry! So sorry!” She grabbed her phone to read the messages. It was from Justin only, no Jo on the thread.

Justin: I know things have been weird but I just wanted to say good luck tomorrow

Slay queeeeeeeeeen

“Everything OK?” Thom grumbled, rubbing his groin protectively.

“Yeah, fine. Just something about tomorrow.” Nat sighed.

Justin was texting on his own, late at night, and using what he called “Sad millennial speak”.

He was either pumping her up or patronizing her because he was just that certain of her doom.

Either way, it didn’t seem like a good sign.

She looked at Thom’s naked body sprawled across her bed.

He arched an eyebrow and rocked his hips — and his erection — toward her.

She needed to sleep. She pushed him to lie back on the bed and brought her face between his legs.

* * *

Rami stirred his simmering pots while Allison sipped wine in his kitchen.

“Well, that Gemma gal sounds Looney Tunes to me,” she said, her Midwestern accent blossoming with the alcohol. “I think I read one hundred words of Kim Kardashian’s Instagram before I even get out of bed in the morning.”

“I know, right?” Rami muttered, worried about the new color of the sauce after his latest adjustment. He offered her a steaming spoonful. “Here, try it now. Is that better?”

Allison wrapped her rosy lips around the spoon and shot him a worried glance. “Mmm. Yeah!” She nodded and reached for her water glass. “It tastes . . . the same. I’m sorry!”

“No problem,” he said, turning to the pots. “Back to the drawing board!”

“It’s really OK,” she said for the third time that night. “I mean, it’s already kinda late, right?”

Rami glanced at the glowing microwave clock. It was ten. Maybe if he added more tomato puree to cut the spice for her? Some cream?

“I’ll just eat it without the sauce!” she said gamely.

“Then it would just be rice and tofu.” He shook his head. “Just give me one more try.”

His conscience gnawed at him. Earlier, he had caved and told Allison about the BuzzFill interview.

To his surprise, she’d been fine with it.

Sure, she had lost all color in her face and her eyes had drifted apart in separate directions for a brief moment, but then she’d smiled and assured him many times that it was fine.

She insisted that she was happy to help him out.

She’d said, in her heartachingly pure way, she’d simply tell the truth that she’d met a total dreamboat who saved her from the saddest birthday ever.

Rami sighed as he stirred in more puree.

In a rush of guilt and relief, he’d promised to make her a home-cooked meal in thanks, but foolishly choosing one of his favorite curries to serve to a white woman from smalltown Minnesota had gotten him where they now were.

He heard Allison sigh behind his back. “All right, well maybe I could practice for the interview one more time.”

Rami surveyed the spices and ingredients in front of him as the sauce bubbled. He ran a hand through his sweaty hair. “What am I missing here?”

She picked up the stack of colored index cards that she’d made and started reading.

* * *

Later, Allison rolled off Rami, whom she had been straddling in bed. They lay on their backs, naked and staring up at the ceiling.

She pulled the sheet up over her breasts. “That was nice.”

“Yeah, good,” he said, giving her a peck on the cheek. “I’m glad.”

She curled up and lay her head on his chest. “Maybe I should just stay here tonight?”

He startled. “Oh! Really?” Guilt flooded through him as soon as he said it. Was he really the guy who was going to kick a girl out after watching her choke down a meal she’d clearly thought was disgusting and then having serviceable-but-successful sex with her? Was he a fuck boy now?

“We’re both going to the interview tomorrow, anyway.” She yawned, fluffing her curls across his chest. “And if I spend the day with you, I’ll know even more about you that I can tell to the whole world.”

That, he realized, was exactly what he was afraid of. “Yeah, that’s true . . .” he said. “It’s just that sometimes I get nightmares when I’m stressed and I wouldn’t want to keep you up.” He eased his conscience by reminding himself that this was not, in fact, a lie.

She rolled her eyes but stuck out her lip in a sweet pout. “Oh, poor, baby!”

“I know, it’s awful,” he sighed. He looked sadly into her round green eyes. “I’ve been told that I cry.” Still not a lie.

Allison recoiled. “Wait, really?” She was still smiling from her “poor baby” bit, but her eyes were full of unease. Maybe even a hint of “the ick.”

Rami just shrugged and hoped the image of him silently weeping into his pillow hadn’t been too over the top.

Allison stretched and swung her legs out of bed. “Well, I actually need to water my plants, anyway.” She dressed with a cheerful air and then bent down to give him a peck on the cheek. “And, I’m sorry, but I am absolutely starving.”

* * *

Rami walked Allison to the door as Ian watched from the sofa.

She pulled on her coat. “Are you sure that I shouldn’t just stay in case you have bad dreams?” she teased.

Rami tried to shuffle her out before Ian could chime in with anything. He felt like an absolute cad. “You’re so kind, no, please. See you tomorrow!”

He gave her a quick kiss, and she waved goodbye. He closed the door and leaned against it with a sigh.

Ian materialized next to him and poked his arm hard. “Pop. Pop.”

“Ow! What are you doing?”

“Your bubble wrap is hurting that poor woman.” He poked harder.

“Stop! I do bruise, you know!”

Ian raised to his full six-foot-six height and peered down at Rami with stony eyes. “Do you even like her? The real her?”

Rami stormed back into the living room. “You know, you talk all about love and finding the right person, but let me give you a little pearl of wisdom, friend.”

Ian followed. “Please.”

Rami started to pace. “Sometimes what you feel about somebody doesn’t make any sense. Sometimes the person you like doesn’t make any sense!”

Ian sank into the sofa and tucked his long legs beneath him. “Interesting theory. But it never happens.”