Swipe Right

by Tagan Shepard

  “Okay.” I almost managed that smile. “Yeah.”

  Once Abby had slid away, Pen turned the full force of her stare on me. “Stop fidgeting.”

  “I’m not fidgeting,”

  My bracelet rattled against the bar and she reached over to still it with a hand over mine. Her fingers were cold from her drink, but her touch was firm and undemanding. “You’re going to be fine. She’s gonna love you.”

  “Yeah, you’re right, but…”

  “But what?”

  I toyed with my bracelet, unsure how to frame my other big fear. “She’s…really hot.”

  Pen laughed and squeezed my hand. “Is that a problem?”

  “I mean if I want to maintain any sort of dignity it is.” I leaned close to her and whispered, “I’m ready to explode over here. She wears men’s clothes and that…like…really works for me. What if she wears a suit?”

  Pen’s eyebrows scrunched together. “That would be a problem?”

  “You know how I feel about women wearing men’s suits.”

  “Do I? You’ve never said anything.”

  “Sure I have.”

  “Nope. I would’ve remembered.”

  The bracelet was now in constant motion, swirling around my wrist. I couldn’t keep my eyes or my hands off it and I knew my cheeks were getting hot. “Ugh. It’s so hot. A woman in a man’s suit is enough to melt my panties right off.”

  Pen was quiet long enough to make me wonder if she’d heard me, but then she said, “Didn’t you say you were horny? Why would it be such a bad thing if your panties melted off?”

  “It’s a first date!”

  “Don’t be such a prude, Kieran.”

  I made a face and looked into the crowd because I couldn’t hold still. Across the dance floor there was a group of women that looked like an office party. Some of them were obviously straight and obviously curious. Riveter’s must’ve been deemed the “safe” place for them to let loose away from flirty men. Either that or one of the group swung our way and she’d convinced her buddies to choose her place for once. One of them kept staring over at us and looking away when anyone noticed.

  “She likes you,” Pen said, smiling at the woman whose head snapped back to her companions. “She’s going to come up to the bar for another drink in a minute. Bet you anything she sidles up next to you.”

  “I already have a date tonight,” I said, sneaking another peek. “And she’s your type.”

  “Straight?”

  “Curious.”

  We both laughed, leaning over the bar and snorting with the shared memories of Pen’s many conquests. At least the laughter made my hands stop shaking.

  “What’re you so nervous about? I thought you two had, like, everything in common.”

  “We do,” I said. I had to tell her. I needed to get it out. “Including all our baggage. Basically the only thing we talk about is our exes.”

  “That can’t be the only thing.”

  “No, but…I don’t know. I want to talk about other stuff, but her divorce and my breakup with Alex are very similar. It’s normal that we started bonding there, but I kinda want to move on, you know?”

  “Maybe you should look into other people then,” Pen said, signaling Abby for another drink. “Like the curious hottie who keeps staring over here.”

  She was cute, but that wasn’t what I wanted. “You go for it. I like Chloe.”

  Curious finally got up the nerve to head over, and Pen locked on to her like a shark scenting blood. She marched up to the bar right beside me, bringing a cloud of rich, musky perfume with her. She asked Abby for a Manhattan in a voice of leather and whiskey. Pen was nearly drooling and I couldn’t help rolling my eyes.

  Curious’s eyes flicked to us once, but she looked away just as quickly. While she waited for her drink, she picked at the corner of a flyer for Abby’s next art show. Pen nudged me and I nearly slipped off my stool into the stranger. I returned the nudge and the movement caught Curious’s attention. She smiled at us and slipped one of the flyers into her jacket pocket.

  “Your friends seem nice, but they’re a little loud, don’t you think?” Pen asked, leaning across me to smile at her mark. “You should stay here. I’m pretty good company.”

  I watched Curious’s reaction in the mirror over the bar. She blushed and looked down, trying to hide her smile. So it had been Pen that she’d been checking out. Looked like Pen had snagged another one. Was any woman immune to her charm?

  “I’m flattered, but I’m not gay.”

  “Are you sure?” Pen asked, her smile slipping from flirty to perplexed. “Because you walk pretty gay.”

  I cringed. That didn’t sound much like a pickup line, but then what did I know?

  “I what?” Her voice was a full octave higher than it had been and dripping with indignation. “That’s not even…Yes, I’m sure. I’m straight.”

  The grin Pen turned on her was triumphant, which seemed an odd choice considering their exchange. “Okay, but you have a pretty gay walk.”

  Curious, who was acting significantly less so, huffed and turned away with her drink. I snuck a peek as she headed back to her table. Pen was right. It was a distinctly gay walk. All shoulders rather than hips and a wide, almost aggressive stance. I couldn’t say that I’d ever defined a gay walk before, but I also knew for certain that she had one. Too bad Pen had pissed her off.

  “That was fun.”

  “You struck out, Pen,” I said. “How is that fun?”

  She winked at me and pointed to her watch. “Never count me out. But you have a date to get to.”

  I swore and hopped off my stool, yanking down the short sides of my dress. “Wish me luck?”

  “You don’t need it, but I’ll wish it to you anyway. Good luck. Have fun.”

  Chapter Eleven

  The atmosphere at Hank’s Bar and Grill couldn’t have been more different than Riveter’s. Where Riveter’s was all polished mahogany and plush velvet, Hank’s was scarred pine and vinyl. There were darts and pool tables in the back corner beside a jukebox full of classic rock. They had only four beer taps and two house wines on the menu. Most everyone drank from brown bottles or cans. I loved it. If there was anywhere I’d find the uncomplicated soft butch I craved, it was Hank’s.

  Chloe certainly looked the part. She’d secured a high top for us near the dart game in progress and stood when she saw me. Her smile slipped a fraction as her eyes slid over my clinging mid-thigh dress and three-inch heels. It was exactly the reaction I’d been looking for. What was the point of a sexy little dress if it didn’t make your date forget her name?

  She kissed my cheek by way of greeting and apologized for the bar.

  “I realize now it isn’t exactly the classiest place in the world.” Her wallet chain rattled against the barstool as she slid back onto her seat. “I should’ve picked somewhere else.”

  “No way,” I replied, greeting the waitress and ordering a Bud Light. “It’s perfect.”

  Chloe already had a Guinness, but she took a moment to chat with the waitress whom she knew by name. It gave me a chance to look her over and I liked what I saw. Most of her pictures online were in hospital scrubs but these worn jeans and navy-blue button-up suited her better. She was powerfully built with a fair amount of muscle but enough extra weight to soften her form. Her hands were delicate, wrapped around her glass and sporting a single wide band on her right thumb. I loved the butch-femme dynamic and we embodied it well. We drew a fair amount of attention from the mostly straight crowd, but I couldn’t tell if it was because Chloe was a regular or because we looked good as a couple.

  “How was your day?” Chloe asked as her phone buzzed. She didn’t even look at the screen, keeping her eyes locked on mine as she flipped it over.

  I couldn’t help but smile at the perfect reaction. “Getting better every minute.”

  It was unforgivably cheesy, but she ate it up. I couldn’t imagine what I’d been worried about. She clearly wan
ted to be here and so did I. Time flew by as we talked and laughed. Chloe told some hilarious hospital stories, never mentioning anyone’s particulars but painting a vivid picture of unbelievable antics. She inspired me to drag up funny stories from my job, many of them prominently featuring Pen.

  Chloe’s phone buzzed for the third time as our second round of beers was delivered.

  “Okay, I have to know more about Penelope,” she said, wiping foam from her stout off her upper lip.

  “She’s my best friend.”

  “She sounds like a character.”

  “Definitely.”

  “You never dated?”

  “God no,” I said. Chloe’s phone buzzed again. “She doesn’t date anyone.”

  She finally cracked and glanced at the messages but turned her phone right back over. “Nun?”

  I laughed so hard I choked on my beer. “Literally the opposite. She doesn’t believe in relationships that last more than twenty-four hours. And she isn’t my type.”

  Chloe leaned in, the corner of her mouth curling up. “And what is your type?”

  I reached out to where her hand rested on the tabletop. Running one fingertip along her knuckles and down her thumb, I slowly twisted the band on her thumb. “Well, I like a butch who knows who she is but doesn’t take herself too seriously. A woman with…experience that can dedicate herself to one woman. Namely me.”

  Chloe swallowed before she answered. I could see her throat contract and release in slow motion. Two beers and no dinner gave me an unfamiliar confidence that left me sounding pretty smooth. “Good to know.”

  She leaned in. Not enough to be forward, but enough to let me know she would be forward if she didn’t respect me as much as she did. I leaned in the same amount, letting her know that I appreciated that she respected me, but didn’t want her to respect me too much. If I was honest, and the third beer that landed in front of me at that moment wanted me to be honest, I really liked Chloe. Liked her enough to let my normal rules fly out the window.

  Chloe’s phone went off again and her veneer of patience finally cracked. She scowled and snatched the phone, typing aggressively before looking a little sheepish and deleting a few lines.

  I waited until she finished to ask, “I know it isn’t any of my business, but is everything okay?”

  Chloe sighed and took a long sip of her beer before answering. I didn’t even hide how closely I watched the length of her neck stretch as she drank. Even scowling she was hot as hell. “I’m sorry about that. It’s…well, it’s my ex.”

  Alarm bells. Loud ones.

  “They aren’t taking it well that I’m dating again.”

  “Oh.”

  “Please don’t worry.” She reached out and took my hand, her eyes big and round and full of compassion. “It’s sort of a new breakup and we were together a long time.”

  “I understand.”

  Chloe looked around, her eyes narrowing. “Someone here must have told them. We used to come in here together and they sort of know us. I’m sorry. I should’ve taken you somewhere else. I just thought it was close to home for both of us and all.”

  She looked so worried, but I was relieved. It was finally clear what had been bothering me about all the ex talk we’d had. I was worried Chloe was still hung up on her ex, but it was clear now that it was her ex that was hung up on her. The more worried and disappointed she looked, the more I was sure I wanted to see more of her.

  “I was so nervous about meeting you. You are seriously hot and I’m getting too old to date hot women and I wanted to feel comfortable because I was so nervous.” The babbling was even more endearing. “But I should’ve known someone here would tell Blair.”

  When she tried to stand up, I held her hands tighter. “Chloe, please don’t worry. I don’t want you to go.”

  Now she looked relieved. “Really? This isn’t ruining our date?”

  “Not for me,” I said, stroking her hands. They turned to putty in mine and she settled back onto her chair. “Breakups can be hard.”

  Chloe turned one hand over, twining her fingers through mine. It felt so good to have my hand held like that I bit my bottom lip. I missed this so much and Chloe was so warm and kind. When she looked at me, I felt like I was tipping forward into her eyes. There was a strength in her that I craved, but it was mixed with compassion. I heard it in the way she talked about her patients and her ex. I wanted someone to care about me like that and I wanted it to be Chloe. I rubbed the pad of my thumb across her palm, forcing myself to look away from the depths of her eyes. Heat rose in my neck and I knew she could see it. I wanted her to. I wanted her to know the effect she was having on me.

  “Shit,” Chloe said.

  I looked back up, but she wasn’t looking at me. She was looking over my shoulder toward the plate glass windows of the bar. I twisted in my chair and saw, standing on the sidewalk outside like something out of a sad movie, a person with their palm pressed against the window and tears streaming down their face.

  “Blair?” I asked in a quiet voice.

  “Yeah.” Chloe ran a hand through her hair, her eyes danced around the room, not wanting to settle on anything. No one else was looking at her. Whoever told her ex that Chloe was here on a date wasn’t about to fess up now. Chloe looked like she wanted to crawl into a hole and never come out.

  “Well, this is a new one on me,” I said, forcing a laugh. Chloe didn’t laugh. She just looked sad.

  “I should talk to them,” she said, staring at the tabletop, her ears glowing red. “I understand if you want to go.”

  Minutes before, I’d wanted nothing more than to stay here with her all night. Now I wanted to stay here with her forever. Anyone who was this kind to an ex crashing her first date was a saint in my book.

  “I’ll leave if you want me to, but I’d rather stay and finish our date.” The desperate hope in her eyes melted my heart. “You’re kind and thoughtful even to someone who you aren’t married to anymore. That’s exactly the person I want to spend more time with.”

  “Really?”

  I leaned in, but not too far with Blair watching. I didn’t want to hurt their feelings any more than they already were. “Compassion is sexy, Nurse Chloe.”

  She smiled so widely and so sweetly it was like looking at a little kid. She got up and hurried out of the bar. I didn’t watch her go. I turned a little on my stool so that the mirror over the pool table showed me what was happening outside. I liked her compassion, but I wasn’t a fool. Sometimes exes have a power over people. History can make them forget the present. I wanted to be sure Chloe wasn’t diving too deeply into her past.

  True to her word, Chloe was kind to Blair, who was obviously shattered. They cried so much it was painful to watch, but Chloe’s body language was the perfect mix of kindness and distance. When Blair tried to step closer, Chloe took a step back, but she reached out a hand to Blair’s shoulder. That seemed to help, but it was also a subtle way for her to keep Blair literally at arm’s reach. I wondered if she’d learned the technique in her nurse training or if it was innate.

  They talked for a while and I tried to ignore the other patrons shooting glances at me. Their looks were neither interested nor mean—they were pitying. As the conversation continued, I started to feel a little sorry for myself, too. I waved off the waitress’s offer of another round and tried not to watch the mirror too closely.

  Blair nodded in a final sort of way and wiped their nose with their sleeve. Chloe gave their shoulder a squeeze and then came back in the door. Blair lingered for a moment before leaving, looking not exactly happier, but at least no sadder. Chloe stopped next to a middle-aged woman with hair so bleached it was frizzy and fried. They had a conversation that was distinctly more heated and brief than Chloe’s conversation outside.

  “I’m sorry.” She sat back down, her eyes suspiciously shiny. There was no trace of tears on her cheeks, but she looked tired. “They’re having a hard time. And I had a word with the person who call
ed them. It won’t happen again.”

  “Are they going to be okay? They seemed pretty upset.”

  “Yeah,” Chloe ran a hand through her hair again and the rumpled look was really working for me. My mind formed a picture of that hair, even more rumpled, resting on my pillowcase. “They don’t really have anyone to talk to anymore so they’re lonely.”

  “I understand that.” I took a deep breath and decided to broach the subject I hadn’t wanted to talk about tonight. “Alex had a hard time with their transition. We had a lot of queer friends, but they didn’t all like how Alex came out.”

  “What do you mean?” Chloe asked, taking a long drink from her beer.

  “There’s this narrative in the queer community about how you’re supposed to feel when you’re trans or nonbinary. Basically that your entire life before the moment of your transition was torture and you have to reject that and embrace your transness or nonbinaryness completely. Alex didn’t want to do that.”

  “They weren’t tortured about their gender?”

  “Not at all. They felt different and wrong most of their life, but they also loved their time as a butch dyke and embraced it. They were someone else after their transition, but they still embraced the woman of their past. Not all our friends were supportive of that.”

  “I imagine it was confusing.”

  “For everyone. Alex knew they didn’t want to embrace a story that didn’t fit them any more than they wanted to embrace a gender that no longer fit them. Some of our queer friends thought Alex wasn’t really nonbinary if they didn’t completely change their narrative. One trans friend stopped talking to them because he said they were invalidating his experience. It was a confusing time.”

  “You said things didn’t end well,” Chloe said, taking my hand in hers again and speaking in that low, smooth voice that made my heart race. “Did things…escalate?”

  “They didn’t hit me, but they definitely took their anger and feelings of betrayal out on me. It didn’t help that they’d fallen out of love. Eventually all we had left was their anger. I tried to be everything they needed, but I could never fix what other people had broken.” I waited for Chloe to look at me before I said, “Some things, people need to come to on their own.”