“So, I had an idea,” she tells me, and my narrowed eyes shooting daggers at my dog raise to meet hers and soften when I see she’s a little nervous about her selection. I raise a brow for her to continue. “I’ve been seeing things on Facebook about this show on Netflix, and I really wanted to try it out.”
“What’s it about?” I prompt, liking this idea already for the possibilities, my mind instantly filling with Netflix and chilling with my woman.
She’s not your woman, asshole.
“So it’s about this matchmaker, and she’s Indian, so she’s introducing these people to basically set up arranged marriages. But people are saying the show is like… super addicting. Do you want to try the first episode with me, and if it sucks, we can watch something else?” she asks hopefully.
And I’m so happy she’s chosen to ask me about this instead of just waiting to watch it by herself that I want to whoop with pride. But I hold it in, not wanting to embarrass her, so I say instead, “Only if you promise that if it doesn’t suck, you won’t watch it without me.”
Her lips purse as she searches my face with slightly narrowed eyes.
“Come on. It’s like an unwritten rule of Netflix. Once we start something together, we gotta finish it… together.” I let the innuendo hang thick in the air that I mean something much more than just a television show.
Her hand twirls one of Scout’s ears between her fingers almost unconsciously. And then she nods. “Deal.”
I smile and face the TV but focus my attention on her in my peripheral vision. She watches me for a moment longer, and then lifts the remote, and I see her select her own profile on the Netflix home screen. It still does something to me, seeing her name next to mine, her profile picture set as Jonathan from Queer Eye, because he’s her “spirit animal,” as she called him.
Curious, I’d watched an episode in bed one night, just to see what he was like, and it was both heartwarming and broke me at the same time. The therapist in me dissected the fact that Astrid saw this dude that was so full of life, exuberance, and who was so animated and happy in everything he did and said, and she identified with him on the inside, who she really was as a person. But then she’s now such a soft-spoken, meek, and frightened woman on the outside thanks to her ex. It made me want to work harder to get her strength back, make her stronger than she ever was before, so she can let that spirit animal inside her show through and break free.
I’m not ashamed to admit I ended up binge-watching every episode, because that shit is as hilarious as it is emotional.
It also made me feel closer to Astrid somehow, watching a show I know she loves so much.
Not even a full minute into Indian Matchmaking, I have to interrupt. “Would you mind putting on the subtitles please?”
She snorts. “Sure, old man,” she murmurs, and when I look at her, she flinches, and her eyes are wide. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”
I chuckle softly, even though I want to throw my head back and laugh but don’t want to scare the shit out of her. “No, it’s okay. They’re just talking so fast and switching back and forth between Hindi and English that I can’t keep up.” She relaxes, so I add, “And I’m not that old.”
She uses the remote to switch on subtitles, then murmurs under her breath, “Pretty old, dude.”
“I’m only forty-two. Forties are the new twenties,” I joke to cover up that I hope she doesn’t think I’m too old for her twenty-seven years, and she looks at me again.
“God, I hope not. It would be very awkward to see you doing a keg stand. It’s much hotter seeing you sip your scotch from a crystal tumbler,” she replies, and her compliment shoots straight to my dick. I manage not to groan when I sink down on the cushion, my long legs sliding out in front of me enough my head now rests on the back of the couch as I let out a long breath of air that puffs out my cheeks. I grab a throw pillow and cover my lap, holding it down against my cock, and she giggles.
She fucking giggles.
Not too old then.
Scout grumbles between us, adjusting his big back end with my new position, but he settles back down, continuing to enjoy his goddamn head rub. The lucky fuck.
She pushes Play once more, and we finally begin watching the show.
Hours later, it’s nearing two in the morning. Needless to say, we’re invested in every single person finding their perfect match, but sometime at the beginning of the episode we’re on now, Astrid had twitched violently beside me, and I looked over to see her sleeping, her head resting on the arm of the couch. Scout had put himself to bed several episodes ago, so her feet had slowly inched closer to me as her legs relaxed in the space the Aussie’s absence had created. I watched her for a few minutes, seeing her eyes move back and forth beneath her lids, her lips turning down in the corners in a little frown before her bottom lip quivered. Just when I was about to wake her from her bad dream, her face relaxed again, and now she’s snoring softly.