Page 24 of The Swiping Game
Tara: No. I want to ask you something.
James: Anything.
I give myself a mental pep talk as I write out the message. This is reminding me of the first message I sent. I was scared as hell then, but it also felt good. Like I was taking control of some part of my life. Which is a welcome change to all the parts I can’t control.
Tara: I was wondering if you’d maybe like to exchange numbers? Maybe actually talk and give our fingers a break? 615-555-6524.
My phone is ringing before I think I’ve even hit send. It happens so quickly that I don’t even get a chance to realize that my stomach does a full flip as I hit the green button on my phone.
“That was quick,” I answer.
“That’s what she said.”
I can’t help it. I bust out laughing. It’s probably a good thing Tawny isn’t here. She’d for sure think I was losing my mind right now.
“Thanks,” I say, catching my breath. “I needed that.”
“When all else fails, call on the humor of Michael Scott.”
“Who’s Michael Scott?”
The line goes silent. Shit, what did I say wrong? “Hello?”
“Did you really just ask me who Michael Scott is?”
“Yes?”
“Have you never watchedThe Office?”
“Oh,” I say. “No. Can’t say I have.”
“Wow,” he says, and for a second, I think he’s genuinely upset by this. “So for the first series we’re binge-watching together, I nominateThe Office.Classic television. Humor for all. And I really have a suspicion you’ll love Pam.”
I feel the smile growing on my face. “We’re going to be binge-watching a show together?”
“I hope so,” he says, his voice becoming a little softer. “If it’s okay with you.”
“I think I’d like that.”
A silence falls over the line, but I’m glad for it. It gives me a second to take in his voice. It’s confident and smooth. It has a warmth to it that makes you feel like you’re slipping into warm sheets.
And it sounds oddly familiar.
“We’ve never met, right?”
I think I hear him cough for a second before he answers. “Why would you say that?”
“It’s just . . .your voice. It sounds weirdly familiar.”
He doesn’t say anything for a second, but he does loudly clear his throat. “Maybe I just have one of those familiar voices.”
“Maybe. Either way, it’s nice to hear your voice. Also, it’s good to know it’s what I thought you’d sound like.”
“You thought about what I would sound like?”
“Kind of,” I say, rolling over to my side. “I mean, I hoped you didn’t have a voice that was higher-pitched than mine. But then, I didn’t think you’d have a real deep voice. So, I guess you’re what I thought you’d sound like. And now that I’m rambling about your voice, I’m going to stop before you end this conversation before it begins.”
He laughs, and goodness gracious, the sound of it hits me like a freight train. I feel the sensation in every cell of my body. It’s like a blanket covering me in joy, which is something I haven’t felt in a very long time. If this is what it’s like just hearing his voice, then what’s it going to be like when we’re together in person?
