Page 40 of Swiped
“Au contraire!” Rami whirled around to Ian with a finger raised in intellectual triumph.
“You think we know what we want? You think that somehow in the fucked up, garbage soup of TV shows and song lyrics and mean things someone said to us fifteen years ago that we call our minds . . .” He gathered steam.
“Minds which function as a hamster wheel to distract us from what’s making us miserable with new and different ways to be miserable—” He gestured wildly to Ian’s numerous bongs and ashtrays and pipes strewn on the coffee table — “that in all the never-ending onslaught of messages and dopamine hits and hashtags — that we have any idea what to look for? What will actually make us happy ?”
“Yes.”
“Ha!” Rami barked. “Then I pity you. I pity you even more than I pity myself. At least I know that I’m in love with a woman I’ll never have!
At least I’m aware that I’ll never be happy because I basically called her app a steaming pile of dog shit in front of the entire world, even though I really feel that it is, or it is in its current state, and yet all I want to do is see her, and kiss her again, and make my mom’s recipes for her, and if she hated it I wouldn’t make her seventeen different sauces.
I wouldn’t! I’d say, ‘Too bad, sister!’ Because for some reason it makes me feel better that she doesn’t like parts of me.
Because I don’t like parts of me. And that somehow makes the parts that she does like even better!
” Rami sank onto the sofa, out of breath.
Ian stood up with a slow clap.
“Fuck. Speeches are exhausting.”
Ian pulled a paper crown out of his pocket, unfolded it, and placed it on Rami’s head. “Congratulations. You are no longer a frog.”
“Does everyone just carry the craziest shit around with them now?”
“I ordered it weeks ago. I’ve been waiting for this moment.”
Rami had to admire his preparation. “Thank you.” He straightened the crown in his hair and then slumped back onto the sofa.
Ian rubbed his shoulders like a youth soccer coach. “Go! Go get your princess!”
Rami sighed and pulled out his phone. “Well, I’m going to text her first,” he said. “And I’m not going to be gender normative about it.” He opened a message to Nat.
Rami: We need to talk. Can I buy you a drink?
Please?
Ian sat next to Rami and lit a packed pipe. “Is this a good time to tell you that I’ve been seeing Gemma?”
* * *
Nat was staring at the ceiling, wide awake, as Thom snored softly next to her.
Pixel hadn’t made an appearance all night.
She couldn’t blame him — he’d never had to deal with a new human taking up his space in the bed before.
He was probably curled up with Sara in her room.
She sighed and fluffed her pillow yet again.
Not that he should get used to that, apparently, given the moving boxes that were still accumulating around the apartment.
Why wouldn’t Sara just accept her help with the rent so that things could stay the way they were?
Nat rolled over again. Why wasn’t the idea of not living together as upsetting for Sara as it was for her?
The sounds of a drunken conversation wafted up from the streets. She heard the high-pitched beeps of bus doors opening.
Nat imagined that maybe, eventually, Thom would move in to take Sara’s place, or maybe they would find a new place together.
She’d always wanted that — to share her life with someone steady, dependable, and incredibly sexy.
Now her ninety-nine percent match was sleeping beside her, a living picture of the exact scenario she had been looking for night after night in all those solo BeTwo searches on her couch.
The exact scenario. Except for one big hitch.
Rami. Despite the many times she’d shut him down when he’d said her app design was flawed, she still couldn’t stop thinking about what he might have to say.
At first, it was because she’d wanted to crush his doubt out of existence, and then because she’d wanted to prove him wrong.
But now? It was because she thought that he probably had a good point, and she wanted to hear it.
He could see something that she couldn’t.
He could man the blind spot, and she could ease up on the gas ever so slightly. Maybe even enjoy the ride a little.
She rolled over and grabbed her phone. Then she bolted upright. She read the texts from Rami inviting her to meet for a drink. How had she missed these?
Thom shifted in bed beside her.
That was how.
She checked the time. If Rami had gone to the bar, he wouldn’t have been waiting long.
She shot him a quick OMW and gingerly pushed back the covers and got out of bed.
As silently as possible, she opened her closet and rummaged for something to wear.
There, still on a hanger from the day she’d brought it home, was the Team Nat shirt she’d been supposed to give to Sara.
Dread sank into her chest. What were the odds that her long-time bestie would wear it now? Or even show up to the event?
Nat shimmied out of her pajamas and into a simple black shirt dress.
Still, if Sara did decide to show, and saw that she hadn’t been given a shirt, that would definitely make it harder to heal their rift.
Nat tiptoed back to the closet. She tucked a pair of knee boots under her arm to put on in the hallway, and carefully slipped Sara’s shirt off the hanger.
If Nat knew one thing about her best friend, it was that she absolutely loved a theme.
She tossed the shirt over her shoulder. Maybe, if Nat was lucky, she still loved her, too.
She gave a quick look at Thom’s sleeping form and crept out of her room . . .
Then crept back in. She grabbed a tube of bright lipstick off her dresser and tiptoed out into the dark apartment.
Sara’s moving boxes had turned the space into a maze, and it took a minor feat of gymnastics for her not to stub a toe or bump an elbow as she inched toward the kitchen.
She folded the shirt and placed it on the counter.
Then she took one of the unpacked mugs, dropped in a bag of Sara’s favorite tea and two spoonfuls of coconut sugar, and set it next to the shirt.
She filled the tea kettle with water and plugged it in, so all Sara would have to do in the morning was push a button.
It was the best Nat could do for a peace offering at the moment.
She glanced at the frosty blue glow of the microwave clock and winced, hoping Rami was in a patient mood for what would seemingly be the first time in his life.
* * *
Nat pushed through the swinging pleather doors of the cocktail bar. She scanned the red-lit interior. Rami sat at the bar, sipping a bourbon. She smoothed her hair and walked over. The stool next to him was covered with his jacket.
“Saving this for someone?” she said.
Rami pulled off the jacket. “She has arrived.”
She sat down, warmed by his now-familiar smell of beach water and spices.
“Thanks for meeting me,” he said, sliding a fresh martini in front of her.
“Thanks for this.” She took a cool, bracing sip.
“It’s my pleasure.”
Nat snapped her eyes to him. She wasn’t used to such a soft tone of voice coming from her rival, or the way his melting brown eyes seemed to linger on her.
“Yeah . . . me too,” she confessed. “I guess I should be thinking about how to destroy you tomorrow, but . . .” She watched him flutter his long lashes and tighten his square jaw. “Honestly, it’s just nice to see you.”
“Really? I mean, I feel the same.” His face was unguarded, and she could feel his happiness at seeing her. “That’s why I wanted to talk tonight.”
Relief, nerves, and excitement poured out of Nat in a rush of words. “Totally! No one can understand what I’m feeling right now except you, because we’re the only two people stupid enough to get roped into this.”
Rami put down his glass, softly cleared his throat, and leaned toward her. “Well, we make a good team . . .”
Nat nodded into her martini. “I mean, my new boyfriend just took me out to this amazing dinner, like the nicest food I’ve had in maybe my entire life, and I was basically a cold zombie to him all night.”
Rami jolted. “Boyfriend?”
Nat winced at the word coming from his mouth in spite of herself.
“He’s literally perfect for me. I put in enough search filters to give SETI a run for their money, and my algorithm served him up to me on a silver platter.
” She gave him an “oops” shrug and held out a picture of Thom on her phone.
“And he’s also the hottest guy in the world, look. ”
“Thom?” Rami’s face darkened.
Nat leaned in. “You know him?”
“Unfortunately, I do.” Rami pulled the phone from her hand and squinted at the picture up close. His face darkened at some hidden memory. “He dated my sister for a year before he cheated on her with, like, a dozen other women, and basically treated her heart like his own personal gym rag.”
Nat laughed as panic flared in her chest. She grabbed her phone back. “No, you must have the wrong person.”
“You wish!” Rami hit her with a cruel smile and raised his glass in a salute. “Also, he used BeTwo to cheat, so hey, congrats and thanks for that.”
“Again, wrong person. Thom told me that he’d just moved here and that he’d never used my app before then.”
Rami pursed his lips in mock thought. “Well, he definitely has used your app in San Francisco, because that’s how he got caught cheating on Sana. Her friend found his profile and sent her a screen grab.” He smirked and shrugged. “Busted!”