Page 11 of Swiped
Rami barked a dry laugh. “Even if you didn’t have a terrible personality, which to be clear, you absolutely do, Helen of Troy couldn’t wrangle a commitment out of the cesspool of dating apps.”
Nat laughed back at him, tossing her hair. “Well, the thing is, I’ve met you. So, I’m not too worried about you beating me to anything but the Reddit forums for ‘sad bois.’”
They locked eyes for a silent moment before a wave of cherry perfume and the buzz of interns hit them. They blinked, and Tracy’s arms were around them. Her skin was impossibly soft.
“Wow, you guys. That was brilliant!” she cooed as her minions took notes. “This is viral content gift-wrapped and delivered from the gods.” She released her embrace and clapped her hands. “Can I get a producer over here? Have we gotten legal on the phone yet?”
V’s green pixie raced forward. “Already have the contracts, standard terms and access, effective upon signing.” They held out two packets of paper already on clipboards to Nat and Rami.
Nat grabbed hers right away. “Ready when you are.”
Rami smirked. “Oh, I am extremely ready to crush you.” He flipped through the papers. “And also, what are the terms, exactly?”
Tracy patted his hand for reassurance. “You both agree to meet up with me one month from now at the BuzzFill BuzzForce Expo, where we’ll do an exclusive, live interview about the results of the race — did you get any dates, did you have fun, catch herpes, find your soulmate, blah, blah, blah.”
Nat watched Rami’s eyebrows creep up his forehead in fear as he listened to Tracy’s explanation. “One month?” he repeated.
“Yes, and Nat only uses BeTwo,” she continued. “Rami, I don’t know, talks to strangers, I guess. Cool?”
Nat grinned. “Absolutely, and again, good luck with that.”
Rami glared at her as V signaled to Tracy.
“Oh! One more rule!” said Tracy. “You absolutely cannot, under any circumstances, contact each other for the duration of the competition.” She smiled and folded her arms, bracelets tinkling like bells. “So, are we good?”
“Perfect,” said Nat.
“Perfection,” said Rami.
V handed them each a pen. “Just sign on the line there. We’ll email you copies ASAP. You have twenty-four hours to make any changes, but I wouldn’t—” They stopped as both Nat andRami immediately signed and handed their contracts back. “OK, then.”
Nat took a deep breath. She didn’t have to think about the unknown dates with unknown men lying ahead, the sudden shove into the public spotlight, or whatever the twins would have to say about this when she got back to the office. She just had to think about one thing — the look on Rami’s face at that very moment. Sure, he’d puffed up his posture, and his pouty lips were twisted into a knowing smile. But his eyes? She held his gaze. There, in the warm cinnamon defiance, was a flicker. A quick glance away, and then a flash of fire when they met hers again. And that made Nat’s stomach flip with excitement. “Game on,” said Nat.
“More like game over,” said Rami. His eyes darted again. “For you, I mean,” he added.
* * *
The coworking space that housed BeTwo was sunny and calm as Nat pushed through the double glass doors. About half a dozen start-ups and ventures shared offices in the converted fruit-packing building close to the water. Slapped with a thick coat of white paint, and with the exposed concrete floors covered in gloss to make each pockmark seem intentional, the building had the blue-collar history that tech workers seemed to crave for their offices, as if in some subconscious apology for the more ephemeral nature of their fortunes made in code and ninety-nine-cent in-app purchases. Plus, the space was near the baseball stadium and at least three different indie microbreweries that were more than happy to take that tech money.
Nat had chosen it because they had given her a break on the rent — part of an initiative to get more female and minority-led businesses going in tech. When she’d moved in years agowith a fledgling BeTwo in barely workable beta, she was trying to make the most of her dwindling savings, and even a shabby spot in a tech office was good enough to give her credibility with investors. As months passed and she gained users and then seed money and her two employees, she’d stayed because the office turnover was high enough that by the time her office mates realized that they shared space with one of the top dating apps, their funding would either run out or come raining down, and they’d be packing up for a reset or a grander space before she had to field any pointed small talk around the ping-pong tables.
As such, the BeTwo office was nestled in a drafty back corner — really a cluster of two parallelogram-shaped rooms, one deeply overstressed kitchenette, a storage closet that mainly housed a giant, load-bearing beam, and two half-windows with partial views of the Bay Bridge and full views of the dumpsters of the organic grocery store next door, or as Justin called it, “San Francisco’s hottest rat restaurant.”
Nat could hear Justin squabbling with Jo before she even reached the doors. A glimmer of optimism shot through her that, hey, maybe they weren’t freaking out about the stunt she had just pulled, but she knew better. She took a deep breath and walked in.
Justin and Jo were poised mid-argument, identical angry statues, as they clocked her entrance. Justin’s long hair was pulled into its typical yoga-ready topknot, and his leather slides were scattered by the sofa, exposing his latest pedicure — gunmetal gray. “Hey there, boss,” he greeted her in his soft patter. His voice always sounded both somber and sweet, like he was delivering world news to a kitten.
His sister, Jo, on the other hand, had a different manner. “We’d ask how it went, but, the internet,” she said sharply, before raising her hands in a slow clap. On her frame, the topknot looked more spreadsheets than savasana, and her blackpatent loafers were very much still on her feet. In fact, Jo was almost always on her feet, which had their own pedicure that would never deviate from her standard rotation of cherry red, navy blue, and ballet pink.
“But, hey, you’re a trending topic now,” offered Justin, pushing Jo’s hands down. “So, like, congrats! Although you’re still pretty far below the Applesauce Bead Challenge.”
Nat dumped her stuff and opened up her laptop in what she hoped was a no-nonsense and unbothered gesture. “You’re up to speed,” she said, frantically clicking her social feeds closed. “Good.” As her email notifications reached stratospheric numbers, she closed her laptop altogether and started to pace in what she hoped was an authoritative and even more unbothered way. “So, obviously we need to start with my profile. Do y’all still have the data on what gets the most responses from our male users?” She tossed a casual glance at Justin, choosing to ignore the fact that she’d just used the wordy’all, which she never used, which was definitely not the sign of an unbothered person.
He raised his eyebrows.
“We have it,” said Jo. “But that was only for our investors, right? To get them to support our totally above-board and honest algorithm that we don’t game in any way, remember?”
“What’s your point?” asked Nat, smoothing out some wrinkles on her button-down.
