Page 39 of Swiped
For Nat, asking how long they’d been talking had not been a rhetorical question. She knew it had been nearly three hours because when she had excused herself to go text Sara from the bathroom while the second round of drinks arrived, she’d seen that they’d already been talking for ninety minutes. She’d groaned — actually groaned out loud — because ninety minutes was a very decent amount of time to know if she liked someone, and her heart was definitely, tragically, not excited in the least about the IRL version of Nick.
And yet she’d agreed to the second round of drinks. That was on its way! Because it didn’t make any sense! Nick was even more handsome than his pictures, and was clearly as kind and intelligent as he’d been in their messages. She’d touched on the hobbies mentioned in her profile, even making a deeply googled joke about goats eating her yoga mat, which had gone over well. They agreed on pretty much everything they’d talked about. He even had a blind rescue dog! The man was a saint. An angel.
And, to her, a total bore.
It eased her conscience to know that he clearly felt the same way about her. Yet here they were, just standing and smiling at each other outside the restaurant like two utterly happy and polite people, when there was a figurative sign blinkingNOT A MATCHbetween them in neon letters.
“We finally met!” Nat said again, nonsensically.
Nick extended his arms for a hug. “Should I?” He hesitated. “Um, here.”
He leaned in with his deep blue eyes and perfectly salt-and-pepper stubble and gave Nat a dry, motionless kiss.
“Wow, thank you!” She grinned at him. All she could think to do was keep grinning.
“Well.” He nodded, back in Vacation Dad mode. “I’ll call you.”
“Rad, yep!” said Nat, waving and still smiling as he walked away. She watched until he was out of earshot, then let her face fall. “What. The. Fuck was that?” she said out loud and kicked at an empty can on the sidewalk. She checked her phone. No new messages, BeTwo or otherwise. She knew in her heart that she would never hear from Nick again, but she also didn’t want to. She just wanted to understand what the hell had happened to make such a promising date, and an eighty-five percent match that was so statistically very high for her or any app, fall so epically flat. Yes, her profile was just some cobbled-together Dream Girl of popular traits, but she had taken those traits from her own data. They were the traits men wanted, and she hadn’t deviated from the script. Although now with some field research under her belt, she had to admit that she was surprised by how little what she’d put on that profile ever came up in any conversations with her dates, Nick included. Plus, their messaging had been honest and genuinely fun. Nick should have liked her, but that wasn’t what happened, and she didn’t quite know why not.
Worst of all, it reminded her of Rami’s warning that IRL meetups were often much different than what was promised by profiles and DMs. But why would that be?
She decided to think about it over the best gin martini in the city.
* * *
Rami took in the scene around him on the patio of the vegan restaurant where Gemma had brought him. Twinkle lights dotted the tall jasmine bushes like stars, and colorful glass orbs gleamed in macramé nests from the trees. Wind chimes tinkled in the breeze. Everyone spoke at a low, companionable volume.
“I legitimately feel amazing,” he said. “When can I cleanse again?”
Gemma laughed over her bowl of tofu pad thai. “Whenever you want.”
“Really? Hey, do you think there’s sage in my salad? Does that count?”
Gemma giggled again, and the sound made Rami’s heart swell. He was funny. He could make a woman laugh.
“You know, I couldn’t stop thinking about you,” she said, leaning in over the flickering tea light on their table. “I know it’s not chill to say that right away, but I believe in radical honesty.”
“Me too!” Rami noticed how the candlelight sparkled in her gemstone nose piercing when she smiled. “I mean, I couldn’t stop thinking about you either.” Emboldened by the profound sense of peace all around him, he offered her his open hand to hold.
She nestled her palm in his with a shy smile. “I think what you’re doing is amazing, you know? Taking a stand for real life.” She squeezed his hand. “Real-life Rami. You could take down the whole online dating system if you win.”
“That’s what I said!” He shook his head at the overwhelming luck of it all. “I knew you would understand.”
Gemma moved her hand to his leg and scooted closer.
The excitement flew straight to Rami’s head. “When you think about it, why do we even need computers to introduce us?” he continued, on a roll. “Is there anything more natural than one person just going up to another person because they think, ‘Hey, you look interesting and I want to say hello?’”
“Totally.” She scooted even closer. “Now people get all freaked out when you talk to them in public, like they feel safer staring at a screen than a human face. It’s so messed up.”
He liked the way Gemma’s voice pitched a little lower when she was expressing a big thought. He really liked the way her hand felt on his thigh.
“Totally,” he said. “You should see the looks I got when I tried. I’m pretty sure some of those women thought I was trying to recruit them for ISIS.”
Gemma’s face lit up. “Oh, is that your band?” she asked. “I’m down to join.”
Rami laughed. “Good one.” Gemma beamed, clearly waiting for him to explain. A sinking feeling crept into his gut. “ISIS . . . the terrorist group?” he said as she blinked at him. “Because I’m brown?”
Gemma frowned sadly. “Oh, see, that’s just awful. That kind of negativity is why I don’t read the news.”
