She shook herself, deciding his taking so long to send a message was doing things to her brain. She walked back to the bed, climbing under the blankets, and Deev lifted his head to remind her she was being inconsiderate. She stuck her tongue out at him and typed a response before she could stop herself.
Would this be Hot Rabbi?He wouldn’t respond to that, she decided. What sane man would. She sounded crazed.
… You think I’m hot? I’m flattered.
Shoshana stared at the phone screen, immediate heat flooding her cheeks. He hadn’t even bothered to include an emoji to show he was joking. Not that she had either. She had very seriously asked him if he was “Hot Rabbi” and he had very seriously used his powers of deduction to conclude she found him hot.
“Fuck biscuits,” she said to D’varim. The cat yawned.
So, this IS the rabbi, she typed, hoping to salvage the situation. God, she was making an ass of herself.
Well, this is the rabbi you met tonight. David, my name is David Freedman.
How was she supposed to put him off with witty, but cynical banter when he was so--that. So straight forward. Her mouth went dry.
But I’m okay with you calling me Hot Rabbi if you prefer.
She resisted the urge to put her head into the fluffiest part of her pillow and scream in embarrassed frustration. Any other man would be turning this into a come-on. He’d be trying to sext, or FaceTime so she could watch him jerk off, or be making bad jokes about how she was the hot one. Instead he was just talking like this was a normal conversation and she hadn’t accidentally shown him her whole ass. Metaphorically speaking, of course.
Joke’s on you, Hot Rabbi, I’m programming you into my phone that way as we speak ;), she typed, deciding the best course of action was just to power through it. Abi would be proud of her. Abi was always encouraging her to be “as much herself as possible”. This was definitely Shoshana being herself.
Of course, it was possible “herself” was a shameless hussy.
But she was an honest hussy, she decided, clicking through the screens on her phone. She programmed him in as exactly that. Now, the top of the text conversation was emblazoned with the nickname.
Hot Rabbi. Hot Rabbi. Hot. Rabbi.
It felt like a warning from the national weather service.
If that’s supposed to make me feel less flattered, it’s not working, David responded, and she suspected he was laughing at her. She wondered what his laugh felt like. A real, deep, full body laugh. The kind that made a person throw their whole selves into it.
Well hold onto your shorts, friend, you should hear what the rest of the congregation calls you,she typed before she could stop herself. Then she stared at the phone screen, shocked at herself. She hadn’t really just done that.
Except, she had.
* * *
David was calling her before he quite knew what he was doing. It was late, eleven thirty, and if he got a call at this time of night, he assumed it was an emergency, so he tried not to do it to someone else. But her last text had been--
“I can’t believe I said that I am so sorry,” she said as soon as she picked up the call. She sounded breathy, but muffled, as though she were speaking through her fingers.
“You do realize that now you’re responsible for telling me what they call me,” he said, laughing because the situation was ridiculous. He stretched under the bedclothes, appreciating the new mattress. He still wasn’t sure if he would be okay with a king-sized bed when he was going to be the only one using it, but the mattress was comfortable enough that he was willing to overlook the extravagance.
“Wait, you’re not mad?” She sounded shocked. “How are you not mad?”
“Why should I be mad, exactly?” he said, genuinely curious about this, “So far all you’ve done is stroke my ego. Unless the congregation is calling me something foul. They’re not, are they?”
“I think that depends on your perspective,” she said, sounding a little weak. Then she laughed just as weakly.
“You’re right, it’s too early for them to dislike me enough to come up with rude nicknames. So, what is it, and how does it compete with ‘Hot Rabbi’?”
“Uhm, I’m not sure if I should tell you, actually. This is secondhand information.”
“Chicken.” He had a feeling if they were in person Shoshana would be looking anywhere but his face right now. Her discomfort was so palpable he felt he could stroke it through the phone. Though perhaps he shouldn’t be thinking about stroking her anything. He was trying not to be a creep, he reminded himself.
“Did you just call me a chicken?” she said, sounding affronted.
“You called me Hot Rabbi and implied people I serve call me worse.” He pointed out. He shifted under the covers, turning onto his side. “Come on, you’re going to have to unburden yourself sometime.”