Page 52 of Swiped
She opened Rami’s text right away.
Rami:So are we gonna talk about it?
The kissing, I mean.
A strange mix of excitement to hear from him and fear that he had seemingly been psychically summoned by her thoughtsclutched in Nat’s heart. Sara was humming to herself in happy concentration, and Nat honestly didn’t want to bring Rami’s name into their conversation again — that would only make it harder to pretend that she wasn’t thinking about him pretty much all the time.
She called on her scant forays into watching romantic comedies and dating shows. Wasn’t there advice to play it cool, to pretend to be uninterested or hard to get? She had vague but persuasive memories of a no-nonsense redhead in a power suit saying dialogue to that effect. It seemed like the best strategy, or at least the best one at hand, as she clutched the phone and stared at Rami’s name next to the wordkissing.
Nat: It was no big deal.
And we were drunk.
She watched the typing dots wiggle by his name. Then vanish. Then appear again.
Rami:Yeah.
OK glad we’re on the same page.
Sara refilled their wine glasses. “So . . . the interview went well. Check. Then why are you looking so sad right now?”
Nat put her phone down. “It’s nothing. Just not that many bites on my profile.”
“Since when?” Sara set down two plates of steaming larb and sticky rice with papaya salad. The smell alone made Nat’s whole body buzz with happiness. “Last I heard you were getting, like, twenty messages a day.”
“Guess I’m old news now. Someone should really talk to the person who designed this app!” Nat gave Sara her best, casual hair toss. But the truth was, she really hadn’t gotten any “bites”since she’d rewritten her profile to reflect her actual personality and applied her entire catalog of desired traits as a search filter. If this was her last trial run in the experiment to see whether she was, in fact, remotely dateable, the results were not looking good.
She took a larger-than-polite gulp of wine and tried to focus on Sara. “So, what’d you want to talk about? You made dinner so I am definitely thinking that it’s something bad.”
“I’m dying.”
“Fuck off.”
Sara’s voice took on a musical patter. “Dying . . . to tell you . . . I . . .” She trailed off, and her humor deflated. “No, there’s not a cute way to spin this, I’m sorry.”
Nat frowned with concern. “Did you poison this totally delicious rice?” She watched Sara manage a small smile. “And, to be clear, you’re totally healthy, right?”
Sara laughed. “Yes, ship-shape.”
“Then tell me the news! I can take it,” Nat said, even though she wasn’t so sure that she could.
Sara looked at her with sad eyes. “I found a new apartment. A room in a house, actually.” She took a breath. “It’s a little commune-y, but the people are super chill and the house is this gorgeous old Victorian, and I got a great deal as long as I cook family dinners every other weekday. I just . . .” She went quiet as she studied Nat’s face. “I can’t afford this place anymore.”
Nat sighed with relief. “Oh, oh my God, is that it?”
Sara blinked, confused. “I mean, I love living with you and I’m gonna be really sad to leave.”
“And I love living with you!” Nat’s appetite rushed back as she scooped up a bite of rice. “Listen, just pay what you can and I’ll cover the difference. It’s no big deal.”
Sara balked. “No way, I can’t let you do that.”
“Um, and I can’t let you actually pay rent to sleep in a twin bed and cook for, like, ten random hippies every night,” said Nat. “Forget it.”
Sara hesitated and put down her fork. “Nat, that’s really generous, but it’s actually fine. It might be a good thing! I just don’t want this to change anything between us . . .”
“It totally won’t!” Nat said, much louder than she’d intended. Sara looked at her with alarm. Nat bit her lip and looked around their home. Panic thudded in her ears. She couldn’t lose Sara, too. Not now. “Listen, myfucking appcan’t get me a date, but at least it can help me keep my best friend around, OK?”
Sara fixed her a heavy look. Quiet filled the space between them. “I don’t know what to say.”
