The Intimacy Experiment (The Roommate #2) - Rosie Danan Page 0,34

or hometowns.”

“Sorry. I don’t have to use it if you think it’s weird.”

“No. I like it.” She nodded decisively. “So, why do you get out of bed in the morning?”

Something about the intensity of her voice when she asked pulled the truth out of him.

“There’s a moment, when you’re speaking to someone, and you’re listening to something they said, or actually”—it didn’t even require conversation—“maybe not, maybe you’re just giving them your attention, holding a door open at the deli, and something shifts behind their eyes and you know that they feel seen.”

He lowered his chin, feeling goofy. “Not just seen but acknowledged in some way. They know they matter. That they’re not alone. And when that happens, I think about all the times someone has done that for me. The way that interaction saved me, shored me up against a thousand invisible aches I didn’t realize I was carrying.”

Naomi’s face gave nothing away when he met her eyes.

“It’s, uh . . . why I always come back to that Einstein quote I told you about. I guess I get out of bed because I think about the connection that we all have, this fragile humanity, each of us insignificant and at the same time precious. A continuation of a species that is recklessly unique. I remember that life is a finite gift, and I’d be an asshole to waste it.”

“Holy shit,” she finally said, more breath than words.

“Sorry for saying ‘asshole.’” His mouth twisted. “Twice.”

“Trust me, I’m not offended. Are you always so—”

“Verbose? Yes.”

“I was gonna say optimistic.”

Ethan could focus on nothing but the fact that her perfume smelled like wood smoke and cinnamon. He couldn’t stop his next question. “Why do you get out of bed in the morning?”

She blinked. “Easy. Because the world is cruel and unrelenting, full of pain and injustice.”

Ethan’s brows drew together. “That sounds more like a reason to stay home.”

“You didn’t let me finish.” He hadn’t expected her to be so playful when he met her. It was sort of ruinous, how much he liked it when she teased him.

“The world is cruel and unrelenting, full of pain and injustice,” she said again, leaning just slightly toward him, “and I am a stick of dynamite.”

Ethan’s breath caught in his chest, but she wasn’t done.

“Sometimes ineffectual, other times unnecessarily destructive, but, on occasion, enough to at least temporarily disrupt the rhythm of the patriarchal abyss threatening to suck down everything I care about and hold it hostage.”

“Wow.” He meant wow in its original sense: in awe, astonishment.

She laughed. “Too much for a first date?”

“Not the right one,” he said without thinking.

Her lips parted. The sudden urge to run his thumb across the skin there made his next inhale harsh.

“We should go. Leah’s gathered everyone. Come on, America’s Most Eligible Rabbi.”

“I really shouldn’t,” he said, but followed her reluctantly. “It’s too complicated.”

“Complicated isn’t always a bad thing.” She grabbed his hand and dragged him toward the tables he’d had set up in the back with a sign that said Beth Elohim Singles Mixer.

“Naomi,” he said as she continued to pull him along. “There’s a certain level of expectation and attention that would be placed on anyone I went out with.”

She glanced back at him, her eyes more serious than they’d been all night. “I know.”

Once they got to the tables where their hodgepodge of participants sat wearily, Naomi called for attention.

Everything in Ethan was screaming that giving anyone the slightest illusion he might be looking to mingle was a recipe for disaster.

But she was already in motion, and he knew there was no stopping her.

“Hi, everyone, and welcome to our first speed-dating session. We know this format can be awkward, but I see you’ve already availed yourselves of the bar. Wise. Feel free to continue to apply social lubricant as necessary.”

The nervous cluster of singles laughed mildly. Ethan smothered how much he liked the idea of Naomi referring to herself and him as a we. She waved for him to continue the intro.

Oh, right. This had been his idea.

“Tonight’s going to be simple,” he said. “We’ll rotate clockwise from seat to seat at, let’s say, fifteen-minute intervals. I know fifteen minutes probably seems like forever right now, but I promise it’ll go quickly. I’ll give a one-minute warning toward the end of each date, in which you’re free to exchange contact info if you mutually agree you’d like to stay in touch. Even if there’s no romantic connection, hopefully you’ll meet some people tonight who