Page 14 of The Thorne at My Side
"I want to get back to that," Charlie says quickly, "but first, Maggie, what is it like dating in D.C.?”
"Your listeners want to know about my dating life?"
"Well, kinda. They're interested in the politics but also the lives of thepeoplein politics."
"Let's consider the subject here for a minute," Austin chimes in and I snap my head toward him unsure where this is going. "Maggie here is one of the hardest working people in D.C., I doubt she even has time to go on dates."
I don't catch my reaction quickly enough and I tuck my chin into my neck as I try to decipher if that was a compliment or a dig or a passive-aggressive combination of the two.
"That's certainly true, both of you are dedicated to your high-profile jobs, so how do you find time to date?" Charlie asks Austin.
"My latest relationship ended recently so considering that, I've been taking it slow. Keeping my options open." Austin says ashe insecurely looks down at his fingernails. If I was in a better headspace and not feeling like I'm on a tilt-a-whirl I'd pounce on this moment of vulnerability. But also I'm wondering who would date this guy? Besides being sexy as hell, and richer than sin, he's cruel and mean and aloof.
Instead of kicking him when he’s down I add another tally at the top of my notebook. It’s like he’s doing it on purpose.
"Have either of you heard of SMS Connect? For our listeners, it's a new service in D.C. where young professionals sign a contract that says they're willing to text with a match, words only, no pictures, for three months before they even suggest meeting each other. The idea is the matchmaker knows what you need in a relationship and doesn't want physical attributes to interfere."
"I've heard of it," I say while trying to keep the crimson from running rampant across my face. "It seems like an interesting concept."
"Are you on it?" The host asks me and my mouth goes completely dry. Like I just stuck a handful of saltines in it.
"From what I understand,” Austin jumps in, “if she was, she wouldn't be able to say. This matchmaking business is more secretive than the freemasons." He throws me a wink and my stomach trips over itself while my brain flicks me between the eyebrows.
We manage to get back onto political topics but I'm continuously distracted by Austin. By his presence, his eyes, his "considerings".And by the fact that he has out-talked me this entire time.
I made a comment about wildlife being negatively impacted by the oil industry. He spat back about how farm land displaced native species populations and I didn't have a response or a redirect.
Then we got into early education. The senator has been working to make PreKindergarten mandatory for public school districts. Getting kids in school as four year olds immensely benefits the child and their family. But Austin had a stat from a not-yet-released study saying kids who started phonics at age five read just as well, if not better, than those who started earlier.
The volleying went back and forth after that. I got him on microplastic pollution in the water supply. He got me on the senator's flip-flopping opinion on tax reform.
I’ve learned that saying anything nuanced is best left to newspaper editorials. It's immensely easier not to misspeak or get misquoted when you've had time to draft, edit, revise, and revise again before printing.
We wrap up and promise to do it again sometime. I said I'd "consider it" and gave Austin a pointed look.
He didn't respond and I enjoyed a moment of pride for being snarkier than him.
But maybe having jokes that are so inside they only exist in my head is a red flag.
The final “considering” tally was seventeen in an hour and a half. Way too many.
With my phone in hand, I leave the recording studio and walk towards the elevator. I can hear the door brush along the carpet as it swings open behind me and I can feel the way Austin closes the distance between us. I don't want to talk to him. The anger I was feeling before, the fire that was lit in my belly has died off. I'm exhausted. I want to go home and eat something sweet while watching an action movie.
Sometimes you’re just in the mood for Daniel Craig.
"I'm surprised you didn't try to throw me under the bus back there." Austin says as he reaches my side at the elevator.
"That's not nearly high tech enough of a way to take you out." I mutter as I open up the ride share app.
"Oh, c'mon, MC, all those brains of yours couldn't come up with something?" He laughs as he steps forward and holds the doors back while I step through. He presses the lobby button and it almost feels like we’re being shut in a barometric chamber. All the air has been sucked out of this small space and I’ve never been claustrophobic until this moment.
I stare straight ahead as an instrumental version of a Black Eyed Peas song plays over the speakers. I can feel Austin’s gaze on me like my skin is being scanned by a laser.I’m not ready to know why I feel so attuned to his presence.
“Shark attack,” Austin says and I whip my head around to look at him.
“What?” And why isn’t he respecting elevator etiquette? The rules of polite society say you should just stare straight ahead and not speak when in an enclosed space with another human.
“A shark attack death would be poetic don’t you think? As long as I was doing something awesome like surfing or wakeboarding when it happened.”
