Page 7 of Mutual Discord

Smite? Smiting? I gave myself a quick shake. Now was not the time to worry about grammar.

“It’s nice to meet you,” I finally managed to say, pleased I didn’t sound half as discomposed as I was sure I looked.

“I’m not what you were expecting, am I?”

I winced before I could stop it. “Was it that obvious?”

A held up his thumb and index finger, the ghost of a smile on his lips. “Just a little.”

“I assumed you were older. Probably married.”

His dimple flashed. “Why is that?”

“Because men my age aren’t usually so self-aware.”

“Ahh.” He sat back in his chair, and yep, this man was definitely fit. Linking his hands together over his waist, he lifted a shoulder. “I have two sisters.”

I chuckled. “Ay, I bet you were spoiled rotten.”

“Why do you say that?” A asked, amusement bright in his eyes.

Spreading my palms wide, I scoffed. “You’re the only boy in a Latino family.” I paused, frowning. “¿Eres Latino, sí?”

He nodded. “Puerto Rican.”

“Me, too!” I exclaimed, clapping my hands together. “That explains so much.”

A leaned closer to the camera. “What do you mean?”

To my horror, my cheeks went hot. Again. God, I hope it wasn’t obvious I was blushing. “It’s just that it’s really easy to talk to you, even when we were just DMing. Like we come at things from a similar vantage point.”

His lips mashed together for a second. “That makes sense. Cultural similarities and all that.”

“Exactly.” I beamed. “I don’t meet many Puerto Ricans in my daily life, so this is pretty great.”

The corners of my smile fell just a tad when I realized I may have inadvertently invited A to ask more personal questions. The man may be finer than the most expensive suede, but I still didn’t know him. Not really. And I needed to remember that. Some of the most repulsive men I’d ever met had pretty faces.

“Do you know who wasn’t Puerto Rican?” A cocked a brow. “Rosalind Franklin.”

My laugh was all relieved humor. “If she was, you know she would have raised hell for being left off the Nobel Committee’s short list.”

“She would have burned down the Stockholm Concert Hall,” A added, his smile stretching when I laughed again.

I held his stare for just a moment, long enough to admire this man and the ease I felt with him. Then I gave myself a mental shake. Nothing good could come from meeting a man online. Chances were great that if we were to ever meet in person, his charming veneer would fall away quicker than an ice cube melting in the Arizona sun. I repeated this thought as I reached for my notes and told him how I thought our LIVE chat could go.

—

A and I agreed we’d hold our TikTok LIVE the following week, which I appreciated because I needed some space from him. He was just…so much. Although we skirted around personal details during the hour we chatted, I learned that A was not just intelligent, but also curious to learn. Not just easy to talk to, but also witty and engaging. A didn’t dominate the conversation or try to impress me with the facts he knew about Rosalind Franklin, but was content to let me take the lead and dictate what information I wanted to include and how I envisioned his participation. A asked for a bit of time to research filters that would allow him to obscure his identity, and I readily agreed. With his anonymous profile and the precautions he’d taken for our video practice session, I was not surprised that A was intent on protecting his persona. I wish I had thought to do something similar before I went viral.

Aside from being smart and funny, A was also Puerto Rican. Good Lord, he was a living, breathing representation of everything I had ever wanted in a man…and that was dangerous. I had no business becoming infatuated with a man I would never meet, and who I frankly didn’t have time for.

After our video call ended, I felt out of sorts. My heart raced, and although I tried to resume work on the script I had been working on, I struggled to focus. Changing into sneakers, I popped in my AirPods, selected a Rage Against the Machine playlist, and climbed onto my stationary bike to work through my thoughts. As I pedaled, I considered how I was at an uncertain point in my life, one in which my career was up in the air and I was unclear of what I wanted to do next. And I certainly didn’t need to become distracted by a good-looking man with a dimple and a pair of glasses. Snorting, I slapped my forehead. I was acting as if A had asked me out or even shown an interest in me. He’d done neither, and yet here I was, giving myself pep talks to keep my libido in check. God, I was embarrassing.

Later that night, Caitlin sent me a text indicating she would be flying into Phoenix the following day and wanted to meet up for dinner. Dinner with my best friend sounded divine, and I made a reservation at a new fusion restaurant Denise had raved about. I invited Denise to join us because she was friendly with Caitlin, but also because Caitlin had indicated in her text that she would be bringing someone. With her line of work, Caitlin had friends in every city and it wasn’t uncommon for an acquaintance or two to tag along to our dinners and meetups.

—

The night of our dinner, I set aside the athleisure apparel I had been living in since I’d been laid off and pulled out a sleeveless black wrap dress and slipped on a pair of sandals. I treated my curls and left them loose and after applying my makeup, I smoothed on red lipstick for good measure. It had been months since I had treated myself to a night on the town, and what better excuse did I have to get dressed up than seeing my bestie and catching up?