Page 70 of Swiped
Thom’s eyes sparkled at her with mischief. “Oh, you really don’t like him, do you?”
“It’s not that!” Nat blurted. “I mean, no, I can’t stand him, but I just don’t want you to be stressed about it at all.”
“Darling, don’t worry about me,” Thom purred, squeezing her hand.
Annoyance still flared in Nat’s mind. “Believe me, if we could do the whole thing by Zoom call, I would.”
Thom frowned. “No, no, that wouldn’t work, would it?” He froze, dramatically, his fork in front of his face, mid-bite, and stared unblinking into space.
Nat laughed at his pose. “Ugh, you’re right! It’d freeze right when I was sneezing or something and then that would be the image of me out there forever.”
He relaxed a bit then froze up again, eyes shining at his joke. “I . . . BeTwo . . . dating,” he bleated in a robotic voice.
Nat laughed, again but softer this time.
His eyes flicked to the couple at the table nearby as he froze a third time on the way to grab his wine glass. “Ehhhh-eh-eh!” he said in a loud robotic glitch, eyes darting to see if the other table was noticing his performance.
Nat felt her smile start to ache, and her cheeks burned. Her shoulders pinched in embarrassment.
The waiter returned. “Dessert? Coffee?”
Thom turned to him and then froze. He jutted his chin, and his eyes bulged. “Bad . . . connection . . .”
The waiter blinked. “I’m sorry?”
Nat forced an open-mouth laugh as she pushed Thom’s rigid arm down. “Ohmygod, you’re so funny. Stop!” She looked at the waiter. “Maybe just the check?”
“No, no!” Thom’s face was flushed with satisfaction. “Two espressos and, what do we think about the chocolate torte?”
Nat gave an embarrassed laugh. “Well, the interview is tomorrow. I can’t be up all night.”
Thom’s eyes took on their theatrical gleam, and he mock whisper-yelled, “Don’t worry, I’ll tire you out!”
Nat felt the color drain from her face as the waiter managed a polite chuckle.
He winked at the waiter. “So just those things, then the check. Thanks, mate.”
She pretended to arrange her napkin on her lap. “So, tomorrow we won’t be having two Manhattans before the interview . . .”
“Oh, come on. He thought it was funny!” Thom was back in his posh posture. He arched an eyebrow. “We’re adults at a fancy restaurant. No one thinks we’re going home to read Scripture to one another.” A seductive grin curled into his face as he brought her hand to his lips. “What a waste that would be,” he cooed with a kiss on her knuckles.
Nat felt her body warm to him as the espressos arrived. “Well, we can run through what to say tomorrow one more time, I guess.”
* * *
An hour later, in her bed, Nat tried to summon that warmth as Thom’s naked body hovered over her.
Despite having been in one hell of a dry spell, Nat loved sex, craved sex, and usually couldn’t wait to have sex with her partner. But tonight, it was awkward — all she seemed to feel were elbows and apologies and re-positioning. Finally, Thom had made it inside her, and she watched the cords of his neck move as he thrust into her.
Sometimes friction felt like magic, and sometimes it felt like skin being rubbed raw. She winced.
“Am I hurting you?”
“No, sorry! Sorry, it’s just my nerves about the interview.”
“Totally understandable.” He kept thrusting.
She watched his jaw shifting above her. “You don’t think this is a huge mistake, right? Like I’m about to destroy my entire life’s work?”
