Page 72 of Swiped
She curled up and lay her head on his chest. “Maybe I should just stay here tonight?”
He startled. “Oh! Really?” Guilt flooded through him as soon as he said it. Was he really the guy who was going to kick a girl out after watching her choke down a meal she’d clearly thought was disgusting and then having serviceable-but-successful sex with her? Was he afuck boynow?
“We’re both going to the interview tomorrow, anyway.” She yawned, fluffing her curls across his chest. “And if I spend the day with you, I’ll know even more about you that I can tell to the whole world.”
That, he realized, was exactly what he was afraid of. “Yeah, that’s true . . .” he said. “It’s just that sometimes I get nightmares when I’m stressed and I wouldn’t want to keep you up.” He eased his conscience by reminding himself that this was not, in fact, a lie.
She rolled her eyes but stuck out her lip in a sweet pout. “Oh, poor, baby!”
“I know, it’s awful,” he sighed. He looked sadly into her round green eyes. “I’ve been told that I cry.” Still not a lie.
Allison recoiled. “Wait, really?” She was still smiling from her “poor baby” bit, but her eyes were full of unease. Maybe even a hint of “the ick.”
Rami just shrugged and hoped the image of him silently weeping into his pillow hadn’t been too over the top.
Allison stretched and swung her legs out of bed. “Well, I actually need to water my plants, anyway.” She dressed with a cheerful air and then bent down to give him a peck on the cheek. “And, I’m sorry, but I am absolutely starving.”
* * *
Rami walked Allison to the door as Ian watched from the sofa.
She pulled on her coat. “Are you sure that I shouldn’t just stay in case you have bad dreams?” she teased.
Rami tried to shuffle her out before Ian could chime in with anything. He felt like an absolute cad. “You’re so kind, no, please. See you tomorrow!”
He gave her a quick kiss, and she waved goodbye. He closed the door and leaned against it with a sigh.
Ian materialized next to him and poked his arm hard. “Pop. Pop.”
“Ow! What are you doing?”
“Your bubble wrap is hurting that poor woman.” He poked harder.
“Stop! I do bruise, you know!”
Ian raised to his full six-foot-six height and peered down at Rami with stony eyes. “Do you even like her? Therealher?”
Rami stormed back into the living room. “You know, you talk all about love and finding the right person, but let me give you a little pearl of wisdom, friend.”
Ian followed. “Please.”
Rami started to pace. “Sometimes what you feel about somebody doesn’t make any sense. Sometimes the person you like doesn’t make any sense!”
Ian sank into the sofa and tucked his long legs beneath him. “Interesting theory. But it never happens.”
“Au contraire!”Rami whirled around to Ian with a finger raised in intellectual triumph. “You think we know what we want? You think that somehow in the fucked up, garbage soup of TV shows and song lyrics and mean things someone said to us fifteen years ago that we call our minds . . .” He gathered steam. “Minds which function as a hamster wheel to distract us from what’s making us miserable with new and different ways to be miserable—” He gestured wildly to Ian’s numerous bongs and ashtrays and pipes strewn on the coffee table — “that in all the never-ending onslaught of messages and dopamine hits and hashtags — that we haveanyidea what to look for? What will actually make ushappy?”
“Yes.”
“Ha!” Rami barked. “Then I pity you. I pity you even more than I pity myself. At least I know that I’m in love with a woman I’ll never have! At least I’m aware that I’ll never be happy because I basically called her app a steaming pile of dog shit in front of the entire world, even though I really feel that it is, or it is in its current state, and yet all I want to do is see her, and kiss her again, and make my mom’s recipes for her, and if she hated it I wouldn’t make her seventeen different sauces. I wouldn’t! I’d say, ‘Too bad, sister!’ Because for some reason it makes me feel better that she doesn’t like parts of me. BecauseIdon’t like parts of me. And that somehow makes the parts that shedoeslike even better!” Rami sank onto the sofa, out of breath.
Ian stood up with a slow clap.
“Fuck. Speeches are exhausting.”
Ian pulled a paper crown out of his pocket, unfolded it, and placed it on Rami’s head. “Congratulations. You are no longer a frog.”
“Does everyone just carry the craziest shit around with them now?”
