Page 71 of Swiped
“Relax. Shh-shh-shh . . . I’ve got you . . .”
He brought a hand between her legs and kept thrusting.
“Mmm . . . OK . . . yes . . .” she tried. She closed her eyes. Time to quiet her mind and be in her body. Time to shut out every other sensation besides the one she needed to feel right now. Everything else could wait.
Her phone pinged. Nat jumped.
“Ow!” cried Thom.
“I’m sorry! So sorry!” She grabbed her phone to read the messages. It was from Justin only, no Jo on the thread.
Justin:I know things have been weird but I just wanted to say good luck tomorrow
Slay queeeeeeeeeen
“Everything OK?” Thom grumbled, rubbing his groin protectively.
“Yeah, fine. Just something about tomorrow.” Nat sighed. Justin was texting on his own, late at night, and using what he called “Sad millennial speak”. He was either pumping her up or patronizing her because he was just that certain of her doom. Either way, it didn’t seem like a good sign. She looked at Thom’s naked body sprawled across her bed.
He arched an eyebrow and rocked his hips — and his erection — toward her.
She needed to sleep. She pushed him to lie back on the bed and brought her face between his legs.
* * *
Rami stirred his simmering pots while Allison sipped wine in his kitchen.
“Well, that Gemma gal sounds Looney Tunes to me,” she said, her Midwestern accent blossoming with the alcohol. “I think I read one hundred words of Kim Kardashian’s Instagram before I even get out of bed in the morning.”
“I know, right?” Rami muttered, worried about the new color of the sauce after his latest adjustment. He offered her a steaming spoonful. “Here, try it now. Is that better?”
Allison wrapped her rosy lips around the spoon and shot him a worried glance. “Mmm. Yeah!” She nodded and reached for her water glass. “It tastes . . . the same. I’m sorry!”
“No problem,” he said, turning to the pots. “Back to the drawing board!”
“It’s really OK,” she said for the third time that night. “I mean, it’s already kinda late, right?”
Rami glanced at the glowing microwave clock. It was ten. Maybe if he added more tomato puree to cut the spice for her? Some cream?
“I’ll just eat it without the sauce!” she said gamely.
“Then it would just be rice and tofu.” He shook his head. “Just give me one more try.”
His conscience gnawed at him. Earlier, he had caved and told Allison about the BuzzFill interview. To his surprise, she’d been fine with it. Sure, she had lost all color in her face and her eyes had drifted apart in separate directions for a brief moment, but then she’d smiled and assured him many times that it was fine. She insisted that she was happy to help him out. She’d said, in her heartachingly pure way, she’d simply tell the truth that she’d met a total dreamboat who saved her from the saddest birthday ever. Rami sighed as he stirred in more puree. In a rush of guilt and relief, he’d promised to make her a home-cooked meal in thanks, but foolishly choosing one of his favorite curries to serve to a white woman from smalltown Minnesota had gotten him where they now were.
He heard Allison sigh behind his back. “All right, well maybe I could practice for the interview one more time.”
Rami surveyed the spices and ingredients in front of him as the sauce bubbled. He ran a hand through his sweaty hair. “What am I missing here?”
She picked up the stack of colored index cards that she’d made and started reading.
* * *
Later, Allison rolled off Rami, whom she had been straddling in bed. They lay on their backs, naked and staring up at the ceiling.
She pulled the sheet up over her breasts. “That was nice.”
“Yeah, good,” he said, giving her a peck on the cheek. “I’m glad.”
