The Intimacy Experiment (The Roommate #2) - Rosie Danan Page 0,31

exhausting.”

“Well, what about all the apps or whatever?” Naomi didn’t have much personal experience with them outside of her friends reporting random people for using her pictures to catfish, but she knew they were pretty ubiquitous.

“I do have some of the apps, but it’s rough out there. I’m a Minnesota eight, which makes me like a solid five in L.A.”

“No way,” Naomi said, protesting in earnest. “You’re gorgeous.” In a weirdly familiar way.

Molly ducked her head. “All the same, I think I’d do better if I could meet people in person. You know, show off my sparkling personality,” she said with a sarcastic hair flip.

Suddenly Naomi knew who Molly reminded her of.

Hannah Sturm. Her younger self. Before she’d tasted betrayal. Before she’d remade herself into something gleaming and sharp. Back when wanting to belong, wanting to be loved, hadn’t felt like a capital crime.

Ethan leaned forward. He had the same wide-eyed eagerness he’d worn at the teaching conference. His I’ve got an idea face, Naomi supposed.

“Are you saying you’d like a more intimate environment to meet eligible partners?”

Molly nodded. “Yeah, exactly. Like, should I sign up for woodworking classes or take up bartending or something?”

Ethan rubbed his hand through his beard. “Well, the synagogue could certainly organize some type of singles mixer.”

“Would Naomi be in charge?” For the first time, Molly looked unsure. “No offense, Rabbi Cohen. I just feel like she’d make it cool.”

Naomi folded her lips together. She really didn’t have the extra time to add another synagogue-sponsored event to her social roster. Besides, spending time with Ethan made her goofy and giggly in a way that she didn’t trust. It was too much like crushes she’d gotten before she knew what they could cost.

At the same time, she appreciated Molly’s vote of confidence. She tried to think of a way to let the girl down gently, but Ethan was already there, smoothing things over, making them easy.

“I’m not sure we could impose any further on Naomi’s time. But hey, I promise that I will try to make it cool. Give me a chance?”

Naomi and Molly both looked at the elbow patches on his sweater and frowned.

“Come on,” he said. “I’ve got ideas.”

The weak smile he wore made Naomi want to spend hours corrupting him. No. Days.

“Might as well let him try,” she told Molly. “It can’t be that bad.”

Chapter Ten

ETHAN COHEN WAS an embarrassment to his people. Matchmakers had held an honorable position in the Jewish community since the earliest days of their faith. Some of the most illustrious rabbis had once made their living as shadchonim. Ethan was literally supposed to be doing “God’s work” right now. Instead he was avoiding his imminent failure by drinking a beer.

Any way you sliced it, his first singles mixer was a spectacular dud. Unfortunately, he had no one to blame but himself.

The bar he’d selected, a new pseudo-dive (the furniture looked like something from his grandparents’ garage, but cocktails cost twelve dollars), should have provided at least an adequate backdrop for this exercise. Google reviews had labeled the place “trendy, in the sense that they have tried very hard to look like they’re not trying at all.”

Despite the ambiance, turnout was . . . less than desirable. Only five people had shown up. Including Morey, who at least had on a spectacular pair of suspenders. Ethan gave him a blithe smile across the room and tried not to throw up.

Okay, so he should have asked for Clara’s help with recruitment. Or at least asked Naomi to ask Clara for her help. But his pride wouldn’t let him accept any more of their generosity.

Lots of synagogues hosted singles meetups. There was no reason his should flop like this. The board had hired him because, in theory, he knew how to attract young people—due to the fact that he was a young person himself.

The few people who’d shown up from the lectures attempted stilted conversation in the corner, drinks sweating in their hands as they waited for the event that he’d told them was running “just a little bit behind.”

He swallowed his guilt along with another bitter sip of lager.

After Molly’s request at the second lecture, he’d hastily thrown together some plans for Wednesday night. Speed dating had seemed like a brilliant idea. Easy. Structured. Low stakes. But nothing about tonight was going according to plan.

With the current number of participants, he’d have to extend the planned five-minute blocks with each single into half an hour each. Also, he currently had