Page 18 of Swiped
Sara gave a dry laugh. “Classic.”
“Yeah,” said Nat, swooning. “Classy.”
“Um, that’s not what I said.”
“You know, I read somewhere that men really respond to a confident use of exclamation points,” said Nat, suddenly sure of the Breton shirt.
“Why don’t you open another message?” said Sara, nudging the computer.
“Yeah, you’re right. I can’t get attached to the first cutie I see.”
“You sure can’t.”
Nat sidled up and clicked on the next message in her inbox. She read it aloud. “‘There she is.’” She gasped. “Wait, what? Is this a joke?” She turned to Sara, stricken. “You open the next one.”
Sara softened her face and lowered her voice like she was talking to a cornered raccoon. “Listen, you’re gonna need a thick skin if you’re gonna keep doing this—”
“Just open the message!” Nat hadn’t meant to screech, but it definitely came out that way.
Sara sighed and opened a third message. “‘There she is.’”
“What the shit is this?” Nat stood and grabbed the laptop. She clicked the next message. It just read, “hey.” All lowercase but also punctuated? Was he trying to make her insane?
Sara refilled the wine. “So, a lot of guys online just take a shotgun approach,” she said in the anxious possum voice. “It’s a numbers game.”
Nat whirled around. “Anumbers game? Not my algorithm!” She kicked the clothes heap in frustration. “It’s just a bad batch tonight.” She ignored Sara’s obvious frown of disagreement and closed the laptop. “And, anyway, this is what I’m wearing! Yay! Now I’m gonna go ice my eyes.”
She tried to slow her breathing as she headed into the kitchen. It was fine. Just a bad batch. She dumped some ice cubes into a towel and pressed them to her eyelids. Heralgorithm worked.Obviously. She heard the clomp of Sara’s boots approaching.
“So, it’s been a minute since you went on a date, right?”
Nat leaned against the cabinets and spoke through the cold darkness of the towel. “A year. And a half . . . maybe longer.”
“Right, right.” She heard Sara crunch on some chips.
“And before you say it,” said Nat, “I’m totally ready to meet someone. I’ve just been too busy with the app.”
“Totally, totally,” said Sara. “Chip?”
Nat nodded and opened her mouth. “Wait, I think eating salty foods defeats the purpose of the de-puffing?”
“Maybe, but we finally got the honey mustard ones back in stock at the store.”
Nat dumped the ice in the sink. “Oh, hell yes.” Lately, Sara had been picking up shifts at a local co-op between her apprenticeship at a hair salon. She’d always rotated between various jobs, almost as a rule, but it was nice when the perks included snacks and haircuts. Nat grabbed a handful of chips and headed back to her room. “Are we sure about these shoes?”
Sara popped in holding up a pair of red ballet flats. “Maybe these?” She tossed them on the bed. “Anyway, I totally get the impulse to window shop like you do. No judgment.”
Nat slipped on the shoes and held up her purse. “These are good. But with this bag, though?”
“Oh, try your one with the tassels.”
Nat pointed at Sara like she was a star and dove back into her closet. “Brilliant!”
“But, I’m just glad you’re getting out there,” Sara continued. “Because, I have to say, it’s also really hard to see you, like, kinda isolated so much, you know?”
“Well, I don’t want to waste my time,” said Nat, dumping out the contents of the tasseled bag onto the bed. “So, yeah. I’m fine with waiting until I find the perfect guy.” She pickedout the receipts, gum wrappers, and stray mints as Sara shifted uncomfortably.
“But perfect is, like, not a thing, right?” Sara asked gingerly. “For anyone?”
