Page 41 of Swiped
He let the Gemma-shaped hole fill with annoyance. Nat. This was all her fault.
Rami:Yeah best to limit exposure
Nat:Is your date mad that you’re texting in front of her or did she already bail?
Rami looked around the moonlit patio. This place smelled funny, and it had flies, and a meatless salad had cost him thirty dollars, and he needed a stiff drink.
Rami:Ha. See you at the place.
Chapter 12
Nat was nearing the end of her gin martini when Rami slid onto the barstool next to her. A hot flush up her chest and swirl of excitement told her he’d arrived, even before his elbow brushed against hers.
“Don’t worry,” he said, as Nat caught the strong scent of mint gum. “There’s plenty of fish in the sea.”
A denial flashed in her head, but she recognized the defeated look in his eyes all too well. “No bites for you, either?”
Rami signaled for his usual bourbon and smoothed his windblown curls. “I don’t know, there’s almost something more pure about being rejected in person instead of in pixels.”
Nat considered this. “Less digital evidence?”
Rami closed his eyes as he savored his fresh drink. “I mean, at least I got tossed back for something I actually did or said in the moment.” He shook his head ruefully. “It’s almost refreshing.”
Nat arched an eyebrow. She couldn’t resist taking the bait as she said, “Refreshing? That would imply that it’s been a while since you’ve been rejected, and is that really the case?”
Rami shot her an amused smirk. “You’ve been listening. Yes, rejection has been my constant dating experience thanks to your app.”
Nat smirked back. “Sure, buddy.”
Rami traced a long finger around the rim of his glass. Nat’s eyes watched the slow circle and felt a small sigh slip past her lips. “What I mean is that, unlike when an online date mysteriously bails out of nowhere, I experienced this crash-and-burn in real time, as a direct result of my own conscious actions. So, I know exactly why she bailed, and now I can think about that cold, hard fact instead of torturing myself for weeks wondering if I listed the wrong band on my profile or, Heavenforbid, had an emoji misinterpreted.” He sighed and sipped his drink. “It’s a gift, really.”
“Well, you seem thrilled about it.”
“I am,” he said into his bourbon.
Nat downed the rest of her martini and signaled for another. Rami was clearly in a pontificating mood, and she was beginning to suspect that it was his default setting, which suited her just fine. Why else spend time consorting with her competitor? It was true that Rami was literally the only other person who could understand the pressures of the contest, and it was nice to commiserate — and monitor his progress to make sure he wasn’t winning. But he was also the only person she knew who seemed to think as much as she did, or overthink, depending on who you asked. That meant that he was a valuable cache of user feedback. Time to see if she could mine his experiences for data. “Let me ask you this about online dates, then . . .” She twirled the olive in her teeth for a bit as she thought of how to frame her question, but the whiplash of her dud of a date with Nick was too fresh for nuanced wording. “What if their texts are perfect? Then you meet up, and whoops! There’s one giant thing missing.”
Rami grunted with a knowing laugh. “No chemistry.”
“Nothing! Like a mayonnaise sandwich on white bread, served on a CD of Christian pop music.”
“Been there. That’s why you have to go for the in-person meeting right away.”
She met his eyes. “How quickly?”
He knit his brows in thought, the way he had when they’d been on the floral sofa backstage. Nat felt the alcohol buzz a little in her temples. She smoothed her hair and sat up straighter.
“I once texted with a girl for six whole weeks,” he said, swirling his bourbon in the glass. “Long, thumb-cramping texts about real stuff.”
“You were pen pals.”
He put down his drink and looked at Nat with tender eyes. “I was completely falling in love with her.”
His candor hit her like a wave. Suddenly, she could see it — the too-soft underbelly behind his prickly, just-the-facts exterior. He was a softie, a crab holding a knife. “Is that all it takes for you to fall in love?” she asked.
“Fine, I was smitten.” Rami did a little self-deprecating shrug with the admission. “But we texted about so much. I could write all about politics, past relationships, what I ate for dinner, and I’d always get the same great things back. And then she’d write to me all about her life.”
Nat didn’t need to search too far in her memory to know what he meant — it’d been the same with Nick. “Like she understood you.”
