Page 68 of Swiped
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 nothingbutall 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 saidnotbe 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.”
