Page 19 of Swiped
Nat looked up from prying melted gum off a quarter. “What do you mean?”
Sara stood. “Wait, no, hang on!” She dashed out and came back with a different pair of red flats. “I think the studded ones.”
Nat crossed her hands over her heart. “Really? You love those!” She slipped on the shoes.
Sara sighed with satisfaction. “Oh my God,yes. I insist!” She watched Nat beam and pose in the mirror and took a seat on the bed again. “It’s just that . . . no one person is ever going to be all the things for you, right?”
Nat stared at a few different colors of lipstick before dropping them all into her purse. “Well, you kind of are.”
Sara winced and managed a dry laugh. “I’m not, actually. That’s kind of my point.” She shifted on the bed and fiddled with one of the piercings in her ear. “It’s just really cool that you’re branching out a little, is all.”
Nat fixed her gaze on her mirror and applied another coat of mascara. “Don’t worry, I won’t replace you.” She dropped the mascara into her purse, too.
Sara nodded. “Yeah, totally. But . . . you could if you wanted to.”
Nat frowned and looked at her friend. Sara was squirming, but her face was firm. What was this about? “Well, no one is forcing you to be my friend,” Nat said, instantly regretting how much meaner it sounded out loud than it had in her head. She was nervous. Her edges got sharper when she was nervous.
“You know I love you, and I love being your friend.”
“But?”
Sara’s face scrunched up in uncomfortable sadness. “Sometimes it’s a lot of pressure for just one person, you know?”
Nat turned back to her mirror. She did know. It had always been her pattern to find one close friend and then consider herself done with the socializing stuff. The reasons why were numerous — it wasn’t easy for her to make friends, and fewer friends meant lower odds that they’d turn into a mean girl (which technically hadn’t happened since third grade, but still hurt). Plus, even Nat could recognize that she was a little on the unusual side as far as her female peers. It had all been covered by school counselors and concerned talks with her mother many times before.
In Nat’s experience, people who actually liked her were rare, and the process of trial and error was agony. So, she liked to stick with success once she found it, or in the case of dating, try to set herself up for success as much as possible before taking a risk.
Nat sprayed a final coat of setting mist on her makeup. “I have other friends,” she said. “You’ve met Jo.”
Sara nodded with an approving grunt. “Jo is cool.”
Nat forced a smile as she fanned her face dry. “Are you trying to freak me out before this date, or something? Did you place a huge bet on me losing this stupid competition?”
Sara’s face lit with genuine warmth. “Just a cool milli, no big deal.”
The two friends met each other’s gaze in the mirror for a moment. Sara’s round face and olive skin, with cat eye liner sharp around her brown eyes, button nose lit with highlighter, and pouty red lips that always seemed set to crack a joke. Then there was Nat’s narrow face with her wide green eyes, long nose and thin lips permanently set in a wry twist. Sometimes, Nat wondered if she and Sara would be friends if they’d met now, in their thirties, instead of in college. But that line of thinking always led to her trying to imagine her life without Sara, and thatwas too lonely to consider, even for her. Nat stood and turned to her friend. “Well, sorry to make you lose your bet, because this is who I’m gonna be gazing at all night.” She held out her phone with Mr. Downtown’s profile pulled up. He wasn’t quite “There She Is” Guy levels of white-hot gorgeousness, but he had a surfer boy cuteness, broad shoulders, and a confident smile.
“Oh, hey there, Eric,” Sara cooed. “Six foot three, I don’t hate that.”
“That means he’s taller than Rami,” Nat blurted.
Sara’s eyebrows shot up, and her eyes flared with amusement. “Interesting reaction.”
“I just mean that he’s hot! Eric, I mean.” Nat shook her head. “I’m just nervous. Whatever.” She looked at her finished look in the mirror and shook the random thought of Rami from her mind. She gestured to her finished look with a little twirl. “All good?”
Sara kissed her fingertips. “Beyond good. Gorgeous.” Her eyes misted a little as Nat giggled. “So just . . . remember to sit with it a bit if it’s uncomfortable, OK? Sometimes it takes a minute to feel a connection.”
Nat shook her head and pulled on her coat. “Free drinks with a hot guy.” She gave a loud mock sigh. “I’ll try to enjoy it.” Then she held out her arms for a hug, squeezed Sara’s familiar softness with a burst of powdery, fresh makeup scent, and slipped out the door.
Sara sighed and refilled her wine.
Chapter 7
Rami paced the narrow lane between the bookshelves, record shelves, spiral-legged wooden coffee table, and overstuffed leather sofa in his living room. This is what happened when you let your trust-funder roommate bring in all their parents’ old (“old,” as in, perfectly good) furniture. He paused occasionally to sip the IPA sweating in his hand.
“I’m supposed to meet her in thirty-five minutes, and I don’t even know her last name. I can’t google her. I can’t Facebook her. I’ll actually have to ask her questions about herself. And I won’t have to pretend like I don’t already know all the answers!” Rami looked at said roommate, Ian, reclining on the sofa with a baroque bong and a lead crystal glass of rare Scotch. “The freedom I feel right now . . .” he said, extending his beer in a toast. “It’s beautiful.”
Ian sipped his Scotch and pondered, which it seemed to Rami he would be doing whether or not he’d just said anything. Ian’s long face was somehow both much smoother than you’d expect a fifty-something’s to be and just as weathered as you’d expect a lifelong surfer’s to be, with a ruddy tan that almost matched his permanently windblown sandy blond hair. As such, he was ageless, a trait he used to great advantage on top of his already birth-bestowed advantage. His bemused expression deepened into a frown and he stretched his long ropey arms and adjusted his hemp hoodie with a satisfied sigh. “You know, man, I think it’s amazing the amount of blind, almost foolish, trust that you’re showing. It really makes me want to get back out there, start Uber-ing again, you know?”
