And my occupation? I have one ridiculous thought where Raffi has a parallel-universe mom who’s made him a list of eligible bachelorettes.
“Sure, at KTVA Nareh. It almost rhymes; easy to remember. Smart move.”
Oh! He follows me on Instagram. Wow, first time that’s ever happened. It feels both flattering and scary at the same time.
He says, “Loved the flower arrangements at your cousin’s shower. But I loved that selfie you posted even more.”
I’m blushing again, matching the pomegranates. I’ve never had someone so hot tell me they liked a photo of me, and it shows.
“Well, maybe you’ll get to see more of them.”
What.What. I can’t believe I said that. This is my first flirtation outside Trevor in, like, five years. And it doesn’t feel bad? Part of me can’t believe I can just say things like this. The thrill of itmakes me feel ten feet tall. Also, did I insinuate nudes just then? I might have. Oh God. This is not what my mom had in mind. But who’s to say a legitimate relationship cannot be born from an exchange of nudes?
“I’ll hit up your DMs.”
He is looking like he swallowed something delicious.
“You better.”
Then I turn around and walk away, swinging my hips for him.
6
Everyone’s grain grows straight, mine grows crooked.
?????? ??? ?? ????? ????? ?? ??????,?? ?????? ???? ?? ??????:
—Armenian Proverb
As I makemy way to rejoin the group, I am feeling like hot shit, not going to lie. I might be strutting. I’ve got alcoholic armor on, telling me I can do no wrong. Yeah, I’ve been messing up left and right, but there must be some kind of guardian angel throwing my blunders into a blender and making whipped lemonade.
My new friends are in the center now that people have hooked themselves into the mix and others left the circle. I trot behind Erebuni as she’s dancing, tap her on the shoulder, and entwine myself between her and another woman, who is another one of those specters of the past I sort of recognize. I give a little nod and a “Parev” and assume that will be sufficient since we’re dancing. She reciprocates, then turns back to her friend, so, phew, that interaction is over. Guardian angel strikes again. I look to Erebuni, who cocks her eyebrow at me.
She shout-whispers. “Raffi G, eh?”
Oh. She knows him. And doesn’t seem to like him? I try toplay it like I’m not that interested in him, and that the whole interaction meant nothing to me. And I’m not sure it does, other than the feeling of getting attention from a hot guy. I think. “Does he go by that? Raffi G?”
This foot movement is more complex than the one before, and I’ve got no napkin to wave, so I’m trying to skip along as unassumingly as possible, my only goal not to be an intrusion to the rest of the dancers.
“That’s how he introduced himself to me way back when. He thinks it gives him some cachet, but it reminds me of Kenny G.”
Definitely doesn’t like him. I laugh because I doubt the Gucci-wearing stud would be pleased to be likened to the crown-of-curls king of sax.
“He does seem a bit conceited. But when you look like that, it’s slightly justified, ya know?”
The line stops and backs up, but I’m still walking forward, yanking Erebuni and that other acquaintance with me, and the latter shoots me a look, like,WTF?
“Want to take a breather?” Erebuni asks.
I do, more than anything. I detach immediately and shout some smiling apology at the familiar woman for messing up her moves. Erebuni, instead of heading toward the table like I thought she might, strides toward the door. Soon we’re outside, the music now muffled behind us, and the icy-cold San Francisco night nipping at our sweaty skin. There are little congregations of friends smoking together, mostly men, and Erebuni leads us away from them.
We sit on a bench side by side, and I can’t believe that this erudite woman is still paying me attention after I’ve continually come off like such a vapid dum-dum. I sneak a look at her again.She’s very striking. She’s got cosmic eyes, a pair of unexplored planets, alienesque with how wide they are.
“I know we’ve only just met, but I think you’re a...” She pauses. “Quality person, Nareh. I hope we’ll get to hang out more.”
She’s being so nice to me, and I don’t want to miss my chance to apologize for earlier, so I blurt, “Me, too. And I am so, so sorry about my rudeness earlier. Like, I don’t know what came over me. You’re totally right about the Armenian genocide stuff. What you’re doing, it’s so impressive. You—you’re impressive. I feel lucky we chanced into meeting each other. So hope I didn’t ruin it by being a”—I search for a word more sophisticated than my first instinct,asshole—“dilettante, earlier.”
“No. You’re honest, I appreciate that.”
