Perfect Match

by Alexis Alvarez

  “You’re shy? That’s really fucking adorable.”

  “I’m not adorable.” She scowled at him.

  “Okay, okay.” He put up his hands. “Clearly, you’re one of those people who need to eat before they can engage in casual dirty talk with their fuck buddy. I will feed you. Come to the kitchen when you’re ready and I’ll have something delicious ready to go.”

  She couldn’t stop a smile. “That sounds good.”

  “See? I knew I’d win you over. You’ll be saying all kinds of nasty stuff to me in broad daylight by the time you’re done with your coffee.”

  “Dylan!” She rolled her eyes.

  “Going.”

  Alone, she stood up and stretched, feeling deliciously achy in various parts of her body. Remembering last night brought a new flood of arousal, and if she weren’t so hungry, she would have run to the kitchen and begged him for another round.

  Her discarded dress was folded neatly on a chair; he must have brought it up for her. The way he’d folded it, sort of sloppy, the wrong way, made her smile with affection. He was so sweet, in a dirty, rude kind of way. But honestly, she didn’t want to wear the dress, not right now.

  She pawed through his dresser and pulled out a pair of boxers, then looked for that white shirt he’d been wearing last night. It was gone—someone was a neat freak. Disappointed, she opened his closet and found a bunch more of them, and slid into one, enjoying how big it felt on her. She tied it in a jaunty knot at her waist, showing her belly, hoping he’d find it super sexy that she was wearing his clothes, without permission, too.

  Using his toothbrush only made sense since they’d exchanged a lot of spit already.

  She wandered out to the kitchen feeling refreshed and eager for breakfast.

  “You like omelets?”

  “Yes.” She slid into a chair.

  He pushed a mug of coffee over. “Cream and sugar there, if you want it. You like veggies? Mushrooms and bell pepper okay?”

  “Yes, and yes. Thank you.” She sipped deeply. “God, this coffee is sooo good. Right now I’m so hungry I could eat your Ramen noodles behind a dumpster and be perfectly happy with that.”

  “Thanks for telling me now, after I cooked all this awesome organic food,” he complained. “You could have saved me at least thirty dollars in produce alone.”

  “I’m not worried about your produce costs,” she retorted. “You are a produce thief. I don’t even know if you came by these mushrooms honestly. For all I know, you snuck into Whole Foods and ran out with them in your pants.”

  “I ran out with something else in my pants,” he said, and gave her a leer. “Want to see?”

  She squealed as he put down his spatula and pulled her up against his hard body, then melted into him. “Yeah. I do want to see. But later! I’m really going to die if I don’t get that omelet into my belly.”

  “Later on, I’ll put something else into your belly,” he said, and slapped her ass. “Sit and eat.”

  “You’re so extra,” she complained, rubbing her butt. “Ouch.”

  “You love it and you know it.”

  “I know nothing except that I need nourishment.”

  “My only desire is to serve you, princess,” he said, giving her a look, and setting a delicious looking dish in front of her. “Go crazy.”

  She stabbed at it with her fork like she was a gladiator fighting for her life. “Oh, god, this is so good. Jesus.”

  He regarded her with amusement. “I don’t know if you got a better orgasm from that food, or from my dick.”

  “Right now, the food is winning.” She shoved another bite into her mouth. “Fuuuuuuuck,” she moaned, giving him a side-long glance and giggling, but then grabbed another bite. “Seriously, you’re good. How are you such a good cook?”

  “It’s an egg, Fia, not a gourmet French meal.” But his smile looked proud to her. “I don’t know, I like cooking, always have. I eat pretty healthy, so I had to learn to cook. It’s relaxing.”

  “You’re a food artist. You could go on Master Chef and Iron Chef and Copper Chef, and whatever, I Killed Bobby Flay and all of those shows. All of them, and win.” She finished her last bite. “OMG. That was delish. I can’t even.”

  She leaned back. “Okay. That was like I just ran a food marathon and won. It was the Boston, because I did it so fast.”

  “You did inhale it. I don’t know if the animals at the zoo even manage it like that,” he agreed.

  “Shut up!” Fia tossed her napkin at him. “It was a compliment. You can’t follow that up with an insult.”

  “All I’m saying is you have more skills than the creatures in captivity. That’s hardly an insult, just an observation.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Whatever.”

  “You wanna be my caged captive? Be my kitty?”

  “No.” She sat up, a little alarmed. “I’m not into that. Uh…are you?”

  He laughed out loud. “No. I’m not. I mean, I’m not judging, but it’s not my thing. Just teasing you. Last night you didn’t seem to mind being mine to command, anyway.”

  “That’s different.”

  He eyed her boldly. “That it is.”

  “So, about last night.” She cleared her throat.

  He waited, just looking at her, his expression even. “Yes?”

  “So, I mean. What…what do we do now?” She drew a circle on the tiles with her toe, then a figure eight.

  “Why don’t we take it one day at a time,” he suggested smoothly, taking her plate and setting it in the sink. With his back turned, he added, “We said one night, and it was an amazing night, yes?”

  She pushed her toe into the tile, feeling the coolness of the floor seep into her skin. “Well, yes, but—”

  “I mean,” he cut in, still not looking at her, “Neither of us was in this for anything long-term, or looking for a commitment. And since you’re worried about how it would look to Chelsea and your clients, we never need to tell anyone. Our secret. Okay?”

  She nodded, but since he couldn’t see that, she added, “Okay.”

  That was what she’d wanted, needed, so why did that feel so disappointing?

  “And it’s better for me, too, probably,” he added, “since it looks better for the show if I’m a bachelor right now. It would sort of destroy the whole dating thing if it came out I was sleeping with someone in the meantime.”

  “Yeah! Of course. No, that makes perfect sense. Wouldn’t want to ruin your camaraderie with Chelsea while you’re building your career and still relying on her patronage for this show.” She didn’t mean for her voice to sound sarcastic, but it came out kind of rough.

  He gave her a curious look. “You okay?”

  She nodded. “I’m fine! I just need to get back home, I guess. Things to do. I have to get…stuff done.”

  What she needed to get done was to finalize things for the dating finale, but it felt really icky and awful to talk about that now, after they’d just had sex. Even if she knew for sure he didn’t really want to date the other women, setting him up with them felt all kinds of wrong.

  “I’ll drive you back,” he said. “Let me know when you’re ready.”

  “Gracie, I need to talk to you.” She looked at her green ficus tree and tapped on the tablet on with her fingers.

  “Noted. Proceed.”

  “Like, in person.”

  “You’re not dying? Oh my God, are you sick?” Grace’s voice rose.

  “No! I’m fine. I just need advice.”

  “What happened? Did the business burn down? Are you bankrupt? Are you—”

  “I slept with Dylan.” The words hung in the air like incense. She could almost see them, golden and shiny.

  “Ohhhhh. I see.” Gracie paused. “Wow. Okay! Wow. I’ll be over in like an hour. Is that okay?”

  “Yes. Thank you.”

  When Gracie came in, Fia had mugs of coffee ready in the kitchen, strong, hazelnut, with lots of creamer.

  “So, I s
lept with Dylan.”

  “So you said.” Grace regarded her across the kitchen table and sipped her coffee. “Last night?”

  “Uh huh.”

  “Was it good?”

  “Oh, God, yes. Really good.” A smile snuck across her face, a happy secret smile, and then she couldn’t help giggling. “Fuck, he was good, Gracie!”

  Her friend’s face lit up, too. “You dirty little whore! You go, girl!”

  “Right?”

  They high-fived across the table, then Fia’s smile faded. “So now I feel like a total asshole.”

  “Oh, no. Why?”

  “Why?” Fia gave her friend a look. “I did the very thing I kept saying I couldn’t do because it was morally repugnant and ethically bankrupt. I slept with a client even while I’m fixing him up with other women. That’s so far beyond tacky that I don’t even know the word. I’m a total loser.”

  “No! No, you’re not. You’re a woman with healthy sexual appetites,” argued Grace. “A woman who knows what she wants and goes after it. I probably wouldn’t, like, tell the clients. But who says they need to know? Also, he’s said more than once, even on TV, that he’s not looking for love. They all know that, too.”

  “Still. It’s like selling lottery tickets when I know they’re all duds.”

  “Well, so don’t do it again, and chalk it up to a learning experience,” offered Grace. “You’re not on the Supreme Court, Fia. I don’t want to downplay what you do, because it’s awesome, but you’re not a lawyer who took the Hippocratic oath.”

  “Doctor.”

  “What?”

  “Doctors take the Hippocratic oath.”

  “That’s what I said.”

  “No, you said lawyers.”

  “It doesn’t matter!” Grace rolled her eyes. “You’re not a doctor or a lawyer, and you’re not bound by some special magical oath you take to God and the country and the Bible and the law and the court or something. You won’t be disbarred from Matchmaking Land if you sleep with a client. It’s okay.”

  “Now you’re just being mean.”

  “No, I’m not! I’m pointing out that I think you’re getting too worked up about this. It’s all a TV publicity thing. Look, Altera and Kellie and Alyssa? They’re going to be just fine. They all got a lot of publicity from this! Alyssa said her pre-order book sales were through the roof when they put her bio on the Morning Brew website. Remember? You did that for her. That’s better than true love. Or at least just as good.”

  “I guess. I was thinking about the way we pick people, though. I was talking with Dylan, and it came up that I only pick thin, pretty women. Even if they’re super talented and awesome, I don’t pick the fat ones. And that makes me feel like an asshole, even if I justify it a thousand ways and say it’s a business decision. And I only take rich guys, not poor ones.”

  Gracie wrinkled her nose. “We’re in L.A., Fia.”

  “I know that. I told him that. But I felt shallow. You know that I wish I could be more welcoming to everyone.”

  “Well, I mean, do you want to change how we do things?”

  Fia sipped her coffee. “Ideally, yes. I’d love to accept anyone and match them up. But some people would be far more difficult to match. I don’t know how I’d talk about expectations, and how to deal with disappointment. And then all the time spent, and if a match didn’t happen, the cost accrued…I’m not sure how to change and still be solvent.”

  “There is the matter of making money.” Grace nodded and wrinkled her nose again.

  “Right? I mean, what we’re doing works really well. We’re making a ton of money, and soon I’ll start turning a profit. But changing things right now is so scary. What if I choose wrong and mess up?” She took another sip. “I’d like to be more inclusive. I’m still thinking about how to talk to clients about the fact that a lot of millionaire sexy men in L.A. prefer tiny model-like women. Or that women prefer rich handsome men, not hard-working guys with potential.”

  “Well, I’d say just be honest. Any potential client, show them the database of people and show them what the opposite sex is looking for, right?”

  “What I provide is that special hand-holding and the fine-tuning, and I can only do that if I have people who already match pretty well for all of their surface requirements, mental and physical. I need to think about it some more.”

  “And we’re waaaay off topic. You slept with Dylan!”

  “Yes.”

  There was silence, then Grace commented, “Did you want to tell me more?”

  “He said we should keep it a secret.” Fia scowled and pushed at her mug, making the liquid tilt nearly up to the rim.

  “But that’s what you want, right? You just said the women can’t find out.”

  “Yes, but I wanted him to want more than I want, because then I win.”

  “Fia!”

  “Not win. I don’t mean that. He was so sexy and funny, and he said it was only one night, and then, I don’t know.”

  “Oh, shit. You fell for him. You like him.” Grace raised her eyebrows and pointed accusingly at Fia. “You have a real-life crush on the man. You like-like him!”

  “No! God, no. It was just, we got caught up in the moment, and it was so good, and he was amazing, and then to have him be so casual about it this morning? I guess I felt a little hurt. I don’t know.” She pushed the mug again. “Fuck.”

  “Welcome to the world of casual sex. You Tindered him without even using the app. It was totally a Tinder.”

  Fia snorted. “We real-life swiped right. Several times. All good times.” She sighed. “Oh well. Whatever.”

  Grace reached out and put her hand on Fia’s. “It will all be okay. Okay? It will. I don’t know what will happen. But look, if you want to change the business, do it because you want to, not because of something Dylan said. If it’s eating you up inside, we’ll switch things up. I mean, it’s not so bad. We can always switch again, if things don’t work. Right?”

  “You’re right. You are!” Fia smiled. “Why can’t I also try to really search and reach out and find guys who like curvy girls? And girls who don’t care that much about money? They’re out there, even here in L.A. I know they are. It will be more work, a new way of thinking, but it’s doable.”

  “That’s the spirit!” Grace raised her mug. “I like that attitude.”

  “And nobody tells Chelsea that Dylan and I slept together. I don’t know what she’d do, but that woman does not like me,” Fia said, with a shudder. “And Dylan said he really needs this job as a ladder to his future, better job, so I don’t want to jeopardize that before he’s ready to move on, you know?”

  Grace’s face was sympathetic. “Of course.”

  To her surprise, Dylan called the next afternoon. “Fia.”

  Hearing his voice made her heart race. She sat down at the kitchen table and traced the wood grain with a finger. “Dylan. Hi.”

  “I just wanted to check and see how you were doing.”

  “I’m good. Thanks. Really good.” She paused. “Are you?”

  “Yeah, I’m good.” He cleared his throat.

  “Okay.” She felt her face get hot. What did he want? Why was she getting all worked up?

  “So I thought maybe we should talk just a little bit more about how the dating thing will go from here.”

  “Oh! Oh. Of course. Sure.” Her stomach dropped. “No, that’s a good idea. Did you have something you especially wanted to clarify, or anything?”

  “I just wanted to make sure things aren’t awkward between us when we’re together on camera. If we act different, people, like Chelsea, might figure us out.”

  “Sure, that makes sense. You’re right. We’ll just act normal, then.”

  “Good.” He sounded brisk.

  “Is that all?” She sounded sort of snappy, but really, what else was there to say right now?

  “Unless you want to go for lunch. Talk more in person.”

  “Lunch.” Her brain shifted g
ears again, lurching from parked into drive, sending spires of desire through her chest.

  He didn’t tease, just waited, and she finally said, “Okay.”

  When he picked her up, she was quiet in the car, and he seemed to be, too. The tension between them was as thick as ever, and his scent, coming to her on wafts of the AC, made her body come to life. She remembered his mouth on her nipples, his lips between her legs, the look in his eyes…and shifted on the seat, feeling aroused despite her best efforts to stay cool.

  He wasn’t helping, dressed all sexy in those worn jeans and white T-shirt that fit him like a glove, showing off his muscles. Why did he have to be so fucking hot? One night to get it out of our system. Well, it wasn’t out of her system. More likely it was burned in, now, etched into her DNA, behind her eyelids, until all she could see and dream about was his body, his hands, his cock.

  “What?” Distracted, she turned to look at him.

  “I asked if you want to try the new vegan place in Echo Park. My friend said it’s amazing.”

  “That’s good. Okay.” She nodded. “I’ll try anything.”

  He gave her a dirty smile. “That’s my favorite thing about you.”

  She rolled her eyes, but was secretly pleased. “Whatever.”

  Sitting across from him at a small bamboo table, she wasn’t sure what to say. But something about his grin and his eyes put her at ease, despite her misgivings, and she relaxed into the moment, sipping her green tea.

  “So why did you pick this place, again? Your friend liked it?” She looked at the small waterfall and the stone Buddha. A little stuffed cat was sitting in the Buddha’s lap, and a hand-lettered sign read: “Do not disturb the sleeping cat. You may place money under her belly, gently.”

  “A friend said it was really good. The best. He took his vegan girlfriend here and she loved it.”

  “I don’t know much about vegan food. It should be fun to try it.”

  He leaned in. “What my friend actually said was,” and he looked around covertly before lowering his voice, “his vegan girlfriend thought the bean-sprout gazpacho was so good that she gave him the best blow job of his life and swallowed without complaining.”