Page 16 of IRL: In Real Life
“The one by the ficus.”
I followed her gaze. “Man in the tan jacket?”
“Mmmhmm.”
“He definitely say ‘tap in’ too much.”
She coughed out a laugh into her glass. “And thinks a rooftop is a personality.”
“That’s ugly.”
“That’s Pittsburgh.”
I looked toward another corner. “Shorty in white been giving three different men the same laugh for fifteen minutes.”
Talia’s eyes flashed. “The same laugh?”
“The exact same laugh.”
“Damn.” She shook her head. “You’re observant.”
“I told you.”
She looked back at me then, more amused than before. More open too.
Recognition settled between us alongside the attraction. The ease of meeting somebody who clocked the room the way you did. Who could move between humor and intelligence without straining for either one. Who didn’t need the conversation dumbed down or dressed up to hold it.
“You come to these things a lot?” I asked.
“Enough to know what they are.” She looked around once more, then back at me. “You?”
“Same.”
“And yet,” she said, narrowing her eyes just a little with amusement, “we never actually met.”
“According to you, that’s the internet done right.”
There was something about the way she looked at me when she liked an answer.
“You don’t agree?”
“I do. But I can’t deny the internet has brought some people together who needed to be.”
Our eyes held.
“I don’t know,” she said. “I think the internet gets a little too much credit most of the time. People start feeling familiar before they earn it.”
“True.”
“You can know somebody’s favorite bourbon, favorite pose, favorite quote about healing, and still have no idea how he carries silence.”
I went still enough inside to feel it.
That was another one.
Another line that made me want to know what she sounded like with even less room between us.
“And how do I carry silence?” I asked.
