Perfect Match

by Alexis Alvarez

  “I can’t like Dylan. I have to hook him up,” snapped Fia, then put a hand over her mouth, horrified. “I’m so sorry. Now I’m being the uncut bitch. Forgive me.”

  “I’ll forgive you if you admit you like him.”

  “What good would that do, anyway?” Fia stared out at the water where the yacht had all but disappeared into a pinprick of brilliance, a tiny firefly on the horizon.

  “It would cleanse your soul.”

  “Oh, really? It’s that easy now? Okay, so I think he’s hot. And funny. But he’s an asshole, and he’s not into a relationship. And also, it’s my official job not just to get him a date, but to do it better than Connie.”

  “Yeah, there is that,” admitted Gracie. “But you could have a fling on the side.”

  “No I couldn’t! That would be so unprofessional. One word of that leaks out? I’m done. I can see the headlines now.” She stopped and gestured as if reading aloud from a paper. “Local matchmaker Fia rocked in scandal where she sleeps with her own clients before matching them up with others! When asked about this, Fia said it’s all part of the true love experience, a lie everyone laughed at as they left her business rapidly.”

  “But maybe you’d be doing them a really great service, you know, rating him on his technique and stuff,” offered Gracie. “Like, maybe some women really love oral. Like we joked about that day when he first came. Remember?” She smiled cajolingly at Fia. “We laughed so much!”

  “What do you mean, some women? How about all women love oral?” Although she was still feeling dismal, it was necessary to correct her friend’s sloppy observation. And she wanted to joke around to lift her mood.

  “Okay, you’re right. Yes. All women. We all love a guy who’s great at oral and actually likes doing it. And it’s on you to find them a guy who’s so good at it, he could win awards. So you have to taste test. Or, you know, let him taste test the goods.”

  “Well, it would make my tag line more interesting,” said Fia. “I fuck them first, and only pass on the best dick!” She smiled.

  “I think it could be a bold new wave in matchmaking,” said Gracie. “You could rate them. 5/5 for oral, 3/5 for PIV, 1/5 for anal—”

  “Whoa, whoa. Who said I want to do anal with every guy?” She narrowed her eyes at Gracie and crossed her arms.

  “Well, you’re the boss. Someone’s gotta take it in the ass, and that person is you.” Grace shrugged. “There’s a price to pay for fame, Fia.”

  “You’re so nasty.” Fia laughed, enjoying the banter with her bestie.

  “I’m brilliant,” corrected Grace. “You need to pay me more, probably, but I stick with you out of pity.”

  “I sincerely thank you for your sacrifice.” Fia rolled her eyes. “I really like you.”

  “I like you too. Which is why I brought up the Dylan thing. I just wonder if there’s something you can do about the situation.”

  “The thing I can do is forget he’s sexy and just focus on finding him the perfect woman. Unless I already did.” Feeling some panic, she looked out at the ocean again. “Maybe Kellie’s the one.”

  “Maybe.” Grace seemed unconvinced. “But I think he has a thing for you.”

  “He kissed me,” Fia blurted out, then flushed.

  “Oh my God! And you didn’t tell me? What the fuck?” Grace frowned.

  “Shhh!” Fia darted her gaze around, but nobody was in ear-shot, or seemed the slightest bit interested, anyway. A couple walked by holding hands, and an elderly man gazed out at the water, still as a stone. “It was after the thing, the taping thing, the other day. In his dressing room. Whatever.”

  “What kind of kiss? Short, long, good?”

  “It was really good.” Fia smiled and touched her cheek. “So good. God, I wanted—but he’s a jerk, you know? So it’s—not going anywhere.”

  “Well, this is complicated now!” proclaimed Gracie. “You’ve passed crush stage and are directly in mess around stage. Next step is the full fuck.”

  “Stop! I’m not even going to kiss him again.” But she wanted to. “He’s on a date! With someone else, remember?”

  “Stranger things have happened.” Gracie nodded sagely. “Just keep it quiet so you don’t end up with those headlines and have to suddenly pretend you’re fuck-testing all the guys in a new porno version of the matchmaking game.”

  “I’d go out of business.”

  “Or not. Maybe nobody would care.”

  “Maybe I can’t risk it, Gracie. I mean, this is my baby, my career. I love this job! It’s—I’ve sacrificed so hard to get here.” Her voice gained strength. “I like joking around and all, but I’m being serious now, and this job? It’s everything to me. You know that. I invested every penny I had into this, and we’re barely turning a profit. This is my whole life wrapped up in this business. So, yeah, I can joke with you about oral and rating the guys. But when it comes to the real thing, I can’t fuck this up.”

  Grace nodded, sober. “I get it. I’m sorry about the jokes, then.”

  “No, don’t be sorry! I like the jokes you make. And I love laughing with you. It’s just, I can’t, with him. I can’t do it.”

  “I understand that.” Grace patted her arm. “Well, okay, then just…focus on getting through this, okay? We’ll do the dates for him, and soon enough it will all be over. After that, who knows where life will take you? Hopefully to bigger clients and a growing business.”

  Fia nodded. “Thanks.”

  The next day, Fia woke early and decided to go for a run, because the gym suddenly felt too confining and public. She put on her Nikes and running gear and headed out to a park she loved, catching the early 5:00 a.m. cool air before the smog and heat settled like a crush onto the city.

  The trail was dotted with a few other runners but was clear enough so she could feel alone and enjoy the sound of her feet hitting the gravel. She ran without music, the chaotic thoughts in her head more than capable of keeping her occupied.

  She knew a run was successful when the flittering worries and tag ends of ideas started to solidify down into something firm in her mind, a thing she could examine from various sides, like a 3D rendering of something in a computer. Some of her best ideas came to her while running, in the middle of aching quads and burning lungs, random birdcall and car horns, in between patches of blue and white in the sky and gray on the ground—somehow all of these things created the perfect witches’ brew to summon up clarity and visions she could otherwise never find.

  After a few miles, she sat on a bench near a cluster of trees, breathing hard, and then stood to stretch her calves. Behind her on the path, a few people jogged by, speaking in Spanish; then a couple walked past, the woman in a colorful sari and sandals, walking directly behind her husband, both of them quiet, placid, no sweat.

  Taking her seat again, Fia wondered what their marriage was like. It had been a matched marriage, probably; a couple of that age, clearly from India, had most likely been matched up by their parents based on things like family status, wealth, caste, education, and a myriad of other things…none of which included attraction, sparks, or passion. What was it like to marry someone out of friendly obligation instead of true desire? She shuddered even though the couple looked content.

  A voice startled her. “Fia?”

  She flushed and stared. “Dylan?”

  Seeing him here was so unexpected that she didn’t know what to say. She looked, though—he was wearing runner’s shorts and a sleeveless T, and holy fuck, but those arms. Those thighs! Realizing she was staring, she forced her gaze to his face to find him smirking.

  “Like what you see?” He pulled up the bottom of his T and wiped sweat from his brow, and the sight of his ripped six-pack almost made her whimper.

  “I did, before you came along. Nice view.” She pointed at the trees.

  “Sure.” He grinned and sat down beside her. “How far today?”

  “Three miles so far. You?”

  “Seven.”

 
“Show-off.”

  “Weakling.” He poked her arm and smiled. “Kidding.”

  “Of course you are.” She poked him back, on his leg, letting her fingers stay just one extra micro-second on the hard muscle.

  They were silent for a second, then she asked, “So, ah, how was your big date? With Kellie?” She picked at the hem of her shirt. “Did you…did you have a good time?”

  “Are you asking if I slept with her?” He looked directly at Fia.

  “No!” Shocked, she felt her face burn and her eyes widen. “I was just—”

  “I didn’t.”

  “What?”

  “Didn’t sleep with her. In case you wanted to know.” He stretched out one of his triceps by pulling at his elbow with the opposite hand.

  “You don’t need to tell me that, Dylan. That’s confidential to you and your date.” But relief flooded through her.

  “But you looked curious.”

  “I looked tired, which I am, from running.”

  “Okay. I believe you.”

  “Oh my God.” Now she was irritated again. “You are so—difficult. Do you know that?”

  “I’ve been told.” He leaned back and stretched both arms along the bench, one of them landing behind her head. He splayed out his legs. “But I think it’s grossly unfair. I’m just honest.”

  “Well, how was the date?” Knowing he hadn’t sealed the deal made her more comfortable probing.

  “Is this protocol?” He made air quotes. “You’re so strict with your rules I figured you’d maybe hire a CIA operative to debrief me. Or at the very least, have me in your office.”

  She thought about having him in her office. Maybe he’d sit in the office chair, his legs spread like this, like they were now, and she’d straddle him. Or maybe she’d…

  “This situation is different from any other couple I’ve matched. I mean, if you prefer to come into the office…”

  He pierced her with his gaze. “What I prefer? Do you want to know what I prefer?”

  Her heartbeat quickened. “Actually I don’t. Just tell me how the date was.” She crossed one leg over the other, feeling it was a prim motion. But when his eyes followed the movement and then met her gaze again, something burned hot and bright in his stare that was anything but proper.

  He raised an eyebrow. “We went on the cruise. We had dinner. We danced. We talked. Things like that.”

  “And…it was fun?”

  “Define fun.”

  “Dylan!”

  He put out both hands as if offering her peace. “She’s very nice and smart and sexy. You did a great job. She’s everything I said I wanted.”

  “She is?” Fia’s stomach roiled. “Oh. I mean, that’s great! Good.”

  “Is it?”

  “Well, of course. My goal is to fix you up.” She blinked. “And to find you the perfect woman. And if I’ve done that, then I’ve done my job.”

  “Of course, I also had a perfect date with the woman Connie picked out for me this weekend, too.” He smiled. “Catherine. We went on a hot-air balloon ride.”

  “Oh.”

  “She’s also smart and sexy and amazingly interesting. Connie definitely knows how to hit all my buttons.”

  “I see.” Fia bit her lip. “Well, in the grand scheme of things, I certainly hope Connie makes good matches too. Although we’re rivals, we’re also all in this together.” She felt like vomiting. On Connie and her hot-air balloon and her Catherine. A big, smelly vomit.

  “But I don’t think we should get into the details just right now. Maybe we should just enjoy this opportunity.” He touched her shoulder with the tip of his index finger, and that one small contact set her whole body aflame.

  “This opportunity?” Could he see the dirty thoughts in her mind?

  He smiled. “To talk. Get to know each other. Well, you know a lot about me from the surveys, but I didn’t get a chance to ask you all of those questions.”

  “What do you want to know?” Startled at the topic, she blinked rapidly.

  “Well, for starters.” But he paused as a family passed by, the kids laughing and shoving each other, the parents admonishing, but all of them still having fun. “What do you do when you’re not running the numbers for your victims, I mean, clients?”

  “I run on trails like this one and apparently get insulted by men like this one.” She bumped his knee with hers, liking the feel of skin on skin. He was warm from the sun.

  He laughed. “No, really.”

  “Really, I like running. I run a lot.” She considered her life. “I like to travel, but that’s on hold for now while I build my business. This is my—I mean, this matchmaking business is me right now, Dylan. It’s all me. I put pretty much all of my time and energy into it. And someday, God willing, it will be so big and strong and great that I can go to Bora Bora and St. Lucia. Alaska. Maybe Iceland. But for now, I do my thing.”

  She grabbed her water bottle and took a sip, and looked back at him. “What do you do in your spare time, when you’re not amazing the general public with your exciting television stunts? Which, I might point out, are even less meaningful than my matchmaking business. Don’t they say TV is the lowest form of entertainment, even if it’s the most common?”

  At the look on his face, a flash of hurt, she wished she hadn’t said it. But hell, he could dish it out! So he needed to be able to take it in return, right?

  His expression lightened. “I run away from it all, like you do.”

  “I don’t run away. I just run.”

  “We’re all running away from something.”

  “Or we’re running to something. Look on the bright side.”

  “I like to look on the realistic side.”

  “Maybe they’re the same side, Dylan.”

  He shifted his position so his knee was touching hers. She didn’t move away, and he didn’t either.

  “Maybe I’ll add the white cliffs of Dover to my list,” she said, when he didn’t respond.

  “Good job getting the color right this time,” he congratulated her. “Smart.”

  “I like to think so.” She pushed at his knee with hers and smiled when he pushed back. At the same time, she could still feel the heat of his arm behind her neck, and it was distracting her, because at any second, he could brush his hand along her cheek and then lean in for a kiss…

  “What?” Distracted, she realized she’d missed something.

  “I said, why aren’t you with someone?”

  “That’s pretty personal.” But she was pleased he’d asked, beyond pleased.

  “I’d like to think we’re at a pretty personal stage in our relationship, since I bubbled in at least ten thousand little circles for you.”

  “Well, I guess I’m really busy right now. Not a lot of time to date.”

  “But you run a matchmaking business. You could just, you know, plug yourself into the system.” He pantomimed typing on a keyboard. “And find yourself the best catches. Why don’t you?”

  “It’s not for me, Dylan. It’s for everyone else. I’m the boss. I can’t—that would be weird.”

  “But if you really believe in your system, I don’t get why you’d exclude yourself from it.”

  “Because I’m the manager of the system. It would be a conflict of interest and awkward for the clients. It would be like the guys at the supermarket going into the produce section and eating the best strawberries before the shoppers came in.”

  “I hear you. But I bet they do that. You’ll never know. You don’t even have a clue what gorgeous berries there were before the doors opened.”

  “They do not do that.”

  “Are you kidding me? I would be willing to be you one hundred dollars that there are tons of guys in the grocery store who have their mouths on any and everything in that place.”

  “I’ll take that bet,” she offered. “But there’s no way we can check.”

  “I have a friend who manages a grocery store.”

  “Of c
ourse you do.” She made a grimace at him.

  He laughed. “I’ll ask him.”

  “I don’t trust you! He’ll lie for you. You’ll tell him to lie.”

  “I won’t. I promise.” He put one hand over his heart and gave her such a puppy-dog, phony honest look that she almost melted.

  “Nope. No trust, Dylan.”

  “So we’ll talk to him together.” He emphasized the together. “What do you say? We’ll swing by and talk to Jake Adams. We’ll visit him and I’ll ask him to be honest and tell me the truth about snackage situations. And then we’ll see who’s right.”

  “One hundred dollars is a bad bet. We should change it.”

  “I’m willing to change the bet.” His voice was low, and when her eyes met his, he gave her a wicked grin that started a slow burn in her belly. She sucked in her breath, unable to look away. “I’d rather get something else from you entirely than your money, Fia.”

  “Like what?” Her voice was soft.

  “Like what?” he smiled. “I’d like another kiss, for starters.”

  She licked her lip. “We can’t.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because.” She had million reasons, but right now, with his eyes drilling into hers, his body inches away, she couldn’t come up with any of them.

  “It will…” She lost her words as he leaned in.

  “It will what?” His lips were so close that they brushed hers as he spoke. She smelled him; his sweat and his soap and the laundry detergent from his shirt, lifting up to her in a damp waft that was pure sex. She inhaled again, testing his odor in her nostrils, and felt her body flare to life. Her eyes drifted shut and she was about to press into him when a sharp yap startled her—a dog?

  “Yeep!” she squeaked and yanked her leg back from a wet poodle, exuberant and friendly, wagging and prancing, all mud and water and trailing matted leash. “Nice puppy! Good boy, or girl. Good dog. Down. Down!”

  A teenage girl in sweats sauntered up. “Sorry! Dakota. Bad girl. Down.” She reached for the soggy leash. “Sorry about that. She’s friendly.”

  “It’s okay.” Fia was irritated at the interruption and glad for it at the same time. She also felt a twinge of annoyance at the teen for taking her time coming over when her smelly, messy dog was clearly leaping onto strangers. Rude, right?