Page 47 of Swiped
Tracy’s gaze sharpened into a cold calculation of Nat’s silence, even as she maintained her megawatt smile. “You good, Nat?”
Jo hurried over, yanking Justin along by his hand. His leather slides slapped against the ground like distortions of his sister’s heel clicks. “Ow,” he said, ever so gently.
“She’s just taking her time sorting through everyone!” said Jo, matching Tracy’s perky urgency note-for-note. She gave an open-mouthed laugh. “There’s just so many guys!”
Tracy rolled her eyes. “Oh girl, tell me about it. Every time I open up my messages, it’s just—” She waved her long brown hands in her face like slapping away a swarm of flies — “so manydicks.”
Justin raised his eyebrows in approval. Jo laughed again, loudly, and kicked the toe of Nat’s shoe. “Right, boss?”
“Totally!” cried Nat, springing to life. “Tell me about it!” She clapped her palms in a single loud smack in front of her chest with a smile. “What am I gonna do with all these dicks?”
Jo’s eyes sparkled at her, and Nat couldn’t help but feel a twinge of their old connection. She shook it off. Jo was just doing her job because their fates were intertwined at the moment.
Tracy’s laugh faded, and her symmetrical face grew serious. “Listen, Nat, I like you and I like your app.” She smiled again. “And my bosses like the sponsorship opportunity at play here. So, let’s be real for a second, OK?”
“Sure?” Nat swallowed her rising panic. She met Jo’s eyes again with a silent plea for help. Despite everything, leaning on her was an instinct, plus she didn’t have anyone else to turn to.
Tracy shooed V away and wrapped Nat in a hug that was more like a huddle. “Are you on something right now? Microdosing without the ‘micro’ part? Because I can work with that.”
Jo wedged the shoulder of her navy blazer into the huddle. “She’s just excited!” She gestured to Justin for assistance.
“Yeah,” he said. Stretching his arm around Nat as his stack of beaded bracelets rattled in her ear. “Who wouldn’t be excited to share intimate details of their personal life on the internet?”
“Right.” Tracy beamed, but her eyes were sharp. “It’s an amazing opportunity, for sure.”
Nat grinned too, which didn’t seem to soothe anyone’s nerves inside the huddle. The silence seemed to thicken around her like a wool sweater. She felt a drip of sweat slide down the small of her back.
“Well, maybe have a cup of coffee or something before Rami gets here,” said Tracy with a sigh. “I’m gonna be honest, our numbers are showing that he’s way more likeable.”
At that, Nat gasped. Now the wool sweater was wrapped around her neck, and something was pulling it tighter.
“Yeah, our audience is misogynist trash,” said Tracy, in the tone of a barista announcing she’s all out of croissants for the day. “The internet, right?” She sighed. “The list of requirements to simply be allowed to exist as a woman are just . . .” She trailed off and blinked her eyes wide. “So much.”
Nat muttered in agreement while her mind raced ahead of Tracy’s words —the list of requirements. Maybe all this experiment would prove was that she was a hateable ogre, some doomed monster knocking down condos with her tail while she was just trying to walk across the street for an iced coffee — but if Nat knew nothing else, she knew about running data experiments, and there was one variable she hadn’t yet tried.
She eyed the door back into her office and checked the giant digital clock ticking down by the cameras. Yes, she had only one option left to save herself in this ridiculous stunt, but she also still had time to pull it off. “I’ll be right back!” she called over her shoulder as she ran inside.
* * *
Nat’s fingers banged on her laptop keys so loudly that she didn’t hear Justin and Jo follow her into the office. First, she went into BeTwo’s God Mode, the all-access portal she used to change the code — or look at every user and run them through her own personal set of finely-tuned filters every night on her couch. But now she wasn’t just observing from her wine-laden, pajamaed perch; she was churning around in the app like everyone else.
She copied the filters from her last couch search, the digital embodiment of her wish list, and clicked into her user account. Within seconds, she applied every last filter to her profile. Now the wish list was live. Now she would only see men who matched it.
Then she opened her profile and started editing.
Justin cleared his throat.
“Hey, lady,” said Jo in the kind of whisper one might use when coddling a Jenga block. “Whatcha doin’?”
“I’m fixing it,” said Nat, not looking up from her screen. “Or burning it down. I guess we’ll find out.”
“Not super jazzed to hear that,” said Jo with barely restrained panic in her voice.
Justin sat down next to Nat. “Fixing what?”
“My profile.” Nat leaned back and cracked her neck before going back to her keyboard. “All my info was fake, so of course I wasn’t meeting anyone that I’d be compatible with.” She shook her head in the electronic glow. “I mean, it’s so obvious! If I put in real answers to these questions, and search based on the things I’m actually looking for, then I’ll meet someone who I actually like.” She laughed and pried her eyes from her screen to glance at the twins. “I mean, what was I thinking?”
“It kinda seemed like maybe you wanted to make sure that you wouldn’t meet anyone who would really be a viable match,” said Justin in his breathy monotone. “Classic self-sabotage.”
