Nicole could be a man, Frank also thought, but this was Spark, which is based on Visage, so the chances of her being someone other than who she claimed seemed unlikely, but then the GFEs were also uncertainties. It also told him that she probably wasn’t even interested in looking the word up.
Frank could imagine her, given the four or five pictures, and what this response indicated was a smile and a carefree, even quiet response. Perhaps she was being cocky. He imagined the same response might await him if he were to see her in public. Nicole would respond, “Who is this guy?” and “What is he doing talking to me?”
Frank could imagine her, her sleek, unbroken line of youthful flesh as she sat next to him. He knew it was forced, awkward. She laughed when he said they should talk: “What should we talk about?”
“I guess you’re correct,” Frank said. “It’s fairly obvious I am attracted to you.” He didn’t dare look into her eyes. He controlled his head. The truth was obvious. There was almost nothing he could relate to, except of course his wanting to write about this.
Nicole looked over her shoulder at Frank who was sitting on the couch, “Who is Brontes even?”
“Jane Eyre writer,” Frank said, “Amy, Charlotte, and Emily were sisters who wrote. I know you’ve at least tried to read one.”
“Nope, I haven’t,” Nicole said. Her shortness, her certainty, spoke of her investment in the conversation. He could feel the futility in his having started it. He studied the words, something he could say, the space was both expansive in possibility, but also limiting and obvious. He tended toward the negative, and the word “nope” was staring at him, almost like it was another hint of the predictable outcome, but he chose to ignore it.