Virtually Yours: A Virtual Match Anthology

by Kait Nolan

  Her smile was sad. He’d never seen a sad smile. It figured that if anyone was going to have the full range of complex emotions mastered, it would be his neighbor.

  “That’s the second time today I’ve gotten a fake compliment.” She’d finally unwrapped her cupcake on all the sides.

  “It wasn’t fake.”

  She shot him a disbelieving look as she took a bite.

  He swallowed. This was so much harder in person. “Thanks for the pizza last night. Next time, I can buy.”

  She lifted her chin. “What if I want something weird on my pizza?”

  “Do you like weird things on your pizza?” It was by no means a deal-breaker, but it’d be useful to know so he could buy two pizzas.

  “Not really. One of my roommates in college used to put corn on her pizza. I thought that was unnecessary.”

  “My aunt used to make pizza with fried eggs on top. She picked it up in France.”

  “Is your family from France?”

  “We’re from all over.”

  She nodded as she looked around his kitchen. As if that explained everything. “I’ve always wanted to order a Hawaiian pizza in Hawaii. I’m curious if it’s just called pizza there.”

  He smiled and picked up his cupcake. Maybe he could try another bite, especially if he timed it during her bite. It really was a delicious cupcake. He could get on board with unexpected cupcakes.

  “On my last blind date, the guy wound up with food poisoning and threw up on the ninth hole of mini-golf—like in the hole. It was the windmill hole, and I kick ass at that hole.” She pursed her lips. “I was beating the crap out of him. I’d been below par on every single hole in fact. If he hadn’t hurled so much, I might have thought he was trying to end the game before he lost. As it was, I swear I was seeing intestines by the time we got him in an ambulance.”

  Berg set the cupcake aside. He could finish it later. Sort of a midnight snack. “When was that?” And why was she telling him?

  “Nine months ago. I thought I could focus on my career for a while. But it turns out my career didn’t need that much focus. I’d considered getting a cat when I moved here. But one cat would be lonely. And then I thought if I put two cats together and they hated each other, I would get a third cat. I’d probably mix up the genders because, you know, who likes being without someone to rub up against on cold nights? I couldn’t force them to live alone without romantic companionship. That’s cruel. But then, well, I should get two of each so they’d have more choices and so whichever gender was single wouldn’t get the idea I’d brought them a harem. Pretty soon, I was planning on something like eight cats, and I couldn’t see the end of it. And I think I’m too young to be a cat lady.”

  Berg turned to his cupboard and got down a glass to hide his smile. He wasn’t completely sure that was supposed to be funny. It was so hard to tell with his gorgeous neighbor. “Would you like something to drink?”

  “What’s the strangest thing you have in your fridge right now?”

  He turned to stare at her. “Do you ask everyone that?”

  “It’s like a getting-to-know-you question.”

  “Does that mean you don’t want a drink?”

  “I’ll have water.”

  He got them both glasses of water. “Capers.”

  “You have capers in your fridge?”

  He nodded.

  She tilted her head and looked off into the distance. It was unnerving. It was like having someone read your tea leaves or your palm. What did capers say about him?

  “You’re in an odd mood.” She wasn’t talking nearly as enthusiastically as she had the last few times. And he hadn’t seen a real smile yet. He missed her smile. He wasn’t faking it in the email when he’d said he wanted to know what would make her smile. Clearly, capers didn’t. “Do you want to hear a food joke?”

  She almost smiled. “Sure.”

  “What did the green grape say to the purple grape?”

  Roxie took a sip of her water, shrugging.

  “Breathe, stupid!”

  She choked on her water, but smiled anyway.

  ***

  From: Roxie

  Sent: Monday, October 5, 2015 9:04 PM

  To: Chris@Synergy.ca.usa

  Subject: Wish you were here

  Hey Chris,

  I concede that naked mole rats are not cute in the conventional sense but maybe society has ingrained a warped sense of attractive versus unattractive. Naked mole rats probably find their babies adorable and other naked mole rats sexy. It probably doesn’t matter what you look like if the attraction is there. Other species have to have different attributes they find attractive. It’s probably not just their measurements and how symmetrical their faces are like it is with humans. I can’t imagine a pug looking at another pug and thinking, “Roger, one of your eyes is ¼ inch higher than the other! We’re through!” I think it’s strange that the word “naked” is in their official name. As opposed to what? The clothed mole rats? I should probably warn you that one of my eyes is a darker blue than the other. You should get out while you still can.

  Roxie

  She hit send and sat, staring, biting her lip. It felt wrong to be emailing “Chris” when she could hear the faint thumps of Berg moving around on the other side of their shared wall. Honestly, it felt wrong to be initiating any kind of relationship with an unknown entity such as “Chris.” She now knew there was a real person on the other side of the mouse, but that didn’t mean that person was doing more than their job. She didn’t want to force someone to “fake” it to make her happy.

  Her neighbor had made a good solid attempt at being friendly. She hadn’t felt like being at Berg’s was an imposition this time. But he wasn’t going out of his way to initiate a relationship. She kept waylaying him. Then again, it’s not like her puking blind date story was exactly an inspirational testimonial to dating her.

  Slapping her hand against her forehead, she groaned. Why had she told him that story? She’d been so down after a day with too much thinking. She’d crossed a line by starting up these emails with her own Paxton McKracken. No matter how many times she told herself that this was all to solve her stalker problem, there was a small voice inside her, laughing, and pointing out that, at her age, she shouldn’t need an imaginary friend to take on the role of boyfriend.

  One ragged inhale later, she set her laptop to the side. Okay. Now she had to find something to do while she mooned over the real guy next door and waited for her imaginary boyfriend to email her.

  ***

  One of her eyes was darker than the other? He squinted as he considered that. No, it wasn’t. He would have noticed if it was. Marines were observant. You had to be. If you weren’t aware of the minutiae of your surroundings, you died.

  Shifting, Berg stared at the wall they had in common as he rubbed his leg. The muscles in his right leg were giving him hell tonight. He could have left his prostheses off for some of the day but he liked being prepared for anything. Maybe it was time to switch the bionic legs with his old ones for a day. He was still planning on using his old ones at the beach and in other scenarios with water. It’s not like he was ditching them entirely. There was something so sci-fi about these new bionic legs, though. His friend at the VA was talking up a pair of blades for running. It’d be crazy to get back into running. He’d been creative in getting his cardio the last couple years.

  Which eye of hers was darker? Would it be creepy to go next door to check that out? Maybe they could go for a walk. Take the bionics out for a spin.

  His gaze slid back to the email.

  Or he could be gutless and email her. As Chris.

  Other than the subject line, the tone of the email was relatively friendly. She might be getting ready for bed. Hell, she might prefer an email to his stilted attempts at conversation. He didn’t want to come on too strong and send her running. Plus, “Chris” was helping her with her stalker problem.

  From: Chris Knigh
t

  Sent: Monday, October 5, 2015 9:19 PM

  To: Roxie@netwave.js

  Subject: RE: Wish you were here

  Roxie,

  One eye being darker than the other will never make the list of deal-breakers. Hell, eye color isn’t even on there. On that subject: what is on your list? Not your cut-bait list but the other one. What are you looking for in a guy?

  Chris

  ***

  She sucked in a breath. Her list? Uh, none of your business, Imaginary Boyfriend Chris. Wrinkling her nose, she pursed her lips. Well, maybe she could tell him. It’s not like it mattered. Who was he going to tell? No one.

  From: Roxie

  Sent: Monday, October 5, 2015 9:37 PM

  To: Chris@Synergy.ca.usa

  Subject: RE: Wish you were here

  Sense of humor is supposed to be at the top of my list. And I admit I like a guy who can make me smile but, really, I want a guy who cares whether or not I’m smiling. Women are supposed to be above putting any physical characteristics on a list but that’s crap. There has to be some attraction. If I don’t wonder what it would be like to kiss a date within minutes of meeting him, it’ll never happen. I don’t think that’s entirely shallow because attraction is more complex than just what a person looks like. I do like guys with deep voices and maybe that’s silly. I remember when I was growing up my dad would look into my mom’s eyes and ask her how her day was. Every. Single. Day. And he actually listened to her. I’ve always wanted that. I think that’s about it. Oh. No. Wait. Honesty. Which I suppose is funny considering how we met, but I’ve been lied to too many times to count. I want a man where what you see is what you get. No games. What’s on your list?

  Roxie

  ***

  Hell. Honesty? Why had he asked her about her list? This had opened up an ugly can of worms. It’d felt like cheating when he’d asked, and he was about to learn that cheaters never prospered.

  Even if he eventually told her that they were emailing, which he might not, he wouldn’t get credit for caring about how her day was now. It was like she’d prompted him. She’d said his compliment was fake because she’d prompted him. This would be the same way.

  “You are such a moron.”

  He could come clean right now. Hey, Roxie, it’s your neighbor. I figured you’d want to know now that we’re being serious. Or was it already too late for that? Maybe he should call up Christian and ask. Leaning down, he banged his head against the desk saying, “Stupid, stupid, stupid.”

  He looked up and read it again. Had she wanted to kiss him within minutes of meeting him? Not that they’d met in a dating scenario, but still… The woman was like the Sphinx on whether she was interested. He couldn’t tell. She was vocal about everything else, so it would make sense she’d say something if she was interested.

  Okay, if she wanted to be more than friends, he’d tell her the truth. If she didn’t, hearing about this was probably more honesty than she was ready for out of a neighbor.

  And now he didn’t know which side held more appeal because telling a woman you’d been tricking her could turn nasty.

  Berg groaned. This was all Chris’s fault. He’d dragged him into this damn Virtual Match thing.

  Sitting up straight, he took a deep breath.

  If he was honest other than the name he signed, maybe she’d eventually forgive him. Maybe if he didn’t sign it “Chris” at all…

  From: Chris Knight

  Sent: Monday, October 5, 2015 9:51 PM

  To: Roxie@netwave.js

  Subject: RE: Wish you were here

  Roxie,

  What I want is a woman who’ll say what she’s thinking. If she hates something, tell me. If she likes something, tell me. Especially if she likes something. There’s nothing sexier than knowing that she’s right there with me. And if she brightens a room when she walks in and makes me think of us wrestling on a blanket under a starry sky, I wouldn’t complain. Like you said, it’s not about the way she looks. It’s more the way she looks at me. I want someone who wants me as much as I want them. Also I want to like myself when I’m with them. I want to feel smart enough, strong enough, and good enough to be by their side. That’s what I’m looking for and hoping to find.

  Me

  ***

  Oh. My. Goodness.

  Roxie blinked. He’d said all that. She swallowed thickly. Okay, she’d asked for honesty. Her fake boyfriend had gotten very real all of a sudden. She kind of…liked it. She had to stop liking it. This was fake. This couldn’t go anywhere.

  Squinting, she leaned in. “‘Me’? Why did he sign it that way?” Her eyes widened. He was putting the moves on her! And his name wasn’t Chris so it felt wrong signing it that way!

  No, that was stupid.

  What were the odds some guy slaving over a hot keyboard in the Virtual Match sweatshop was all sweet on her after a few emails? Hah! Not likely.

  Drumming her fingers on her laptop, she frowned. He sounded intense. Sort of like Berg. Only, if it was Berg, there’d be the qualification of he’d want his ideal woman to eventually stop talking too. Something she couldn’t manage to do.

  Should she respond?

  She wanted to.

  It’d be rude not to.

  Besides, she was paying for this so she might as well. Hell, how lonely and needy did that make her? She was paying for someone to talk to her. She seriously needed to get a real boyfriend.

  From: Roxie

  Sent: Monday, October 5, 2015 10:11 PM

  To: Chris@Synergy.ca.usa

  Subject: RE: Wish you were here

  What if I talk too much? I’ve been told that I do. If I’m nervous, I talk a lot. Today, I told someone a story involving vomit, in fact. He was probably hoping I’d shut up every second of it. Even as I was saying it, I kept thinking SHUTUP, ROXIE! SHUTUP! But I kept talking. I should probably avoid him for a few days until he forgets the vomit story.

  What’s your favorite childhood memory? (It doesn’t have to involve vomit. This is on a different subject.)

  It’s hard for me to pick one (which is a good problem to have) but I really liked going to this one waterpark when I was a kid. My dad and I would go down the super tall waterslide. The waterslide was equal parts misery and excitement. My swimsuit would ride so far up my butt I swear I could taste it. But there were those butterflies that went mad in my chest when I slid forward at the top of the slide and it looked like a straight drop. My favorite part of that memory was when we’d gotten into my dad’s truck afterwards and I had an ice cream cone in my hand (he wouldn’t let me have one until we were done riding rides. See, this isn’t a vomit story). My dad looked over at me and said, “Roxie, you are fearless! I can’t believe you went down that slide so many times.” I think everyone deserves to feel fearless for one day.

  Roxie

  ***

  He leaned up against the sink with a hand on either side and stared into the mirror. “Roxie, it’s me. I’m Chris.” Berg splashed water on his face and tried again. “I’m not Chris. I mean, I’m your imaginary boyfriend, but I want to be your real boyfriend.” He closed his eyes for a long blink, grimacing. “Hell, could I sound more junior high? Real fearless, Berg. You’ve been in the middle of red-on-red action without breaking a sweat and the five-foot-nothing sweetheart next door is making you turn tail and run?”

  She’d referred to her neighbor as “someone” in her email. And she was fine with avoiding him for a while. That didn’t scream she wanted anything more with him. He made her nervous apparently. Freaking fantastic. He couldn’t stop dreaming about her, and she was going to ignore him because she’d told him a story.

  She didn’t talk too much. Hadn’t he said that he’d rather hear what she was thinking? He’d even said it to her, even if she didn’t know that. He had a love/hate thing going with her confiding in him via emails.

  He was in quicksand that was sucki
ng him in deeper.

  Berg strode into his bedroom and dropped onto the side of his low-profile bed. Even though he kept his prostheses at the side of his bed, there was a wheelchair in the corner for the occasional hellish days when something went really wrong and he wanted to be able to get to it without killing himself getting off his bed.

  Detaching the sockets, he removed both of his prostheses and the liners. He slid back against the headboard and grabbed his laptop from the bedside table.

  If he was going to tell her, he should tell her in person. It was the polite thing to do. At least, he’d stopped bcc’ing Chris on these. He’d never live it down if his best buddy had front row seats to him going down in flames. He might have them anyway if Chris called her. He might let the cat out of the bag.

  Berg sighed. He’d tell her in person. Soon.

  From: Chris Knight

  Sent: Monday, October 5, 2015 10:38 PM

  To: Roxie@netwave.js

  Subject: RE: Wish you were here

  Roxie,

  I’m sure he wasn’t thinking you talk too much. He probably thought it was cute. It’s too bad he makes you nervous. If you’re worried about talking too much around a boyfriend, it sounds like a good excuse to kiss him. Problem solved. Guys are solution-oriented like that.

  My favorite memory growing up? Like you, I have a lot of them. I have a funny memory. My parents and I went to the drive-in movies. Do they even exist anymore? I should see if there are any around here. Anyway, they took me to see the Schwarzenegger movie “True Lies.” Someone had jokingly told my mother it was a political documentary so she thought it would be educational. My mother is the biggest pacifist you can imagine. She wouldn’t let me have so much as a squirt gun until I was twelve and even then not until my dad had taught me proper gun safety. So here we were watching an action movie where the body count keeps rising. She screamed through half of the movie and kept trying to cover my eyes. My dad and I laughed so hard. He’d known before we’d gone in what it was about. He thought I deserved to have the occasional “normal” experience. He slept on the couch for two weeks.