Chapter 12
I wake to the sound of buzzing against my wooden nightstand. Sensing movement, Pinot climbs over my body to meow in my face for attention. Half-awake, I feel around for my phone.
A cryptic text from Bennett appears on my screen. Date details coming later today, just need you to make sure your profile is up-to-date.
I flop back against the pillow, checking the time on my alarm clock. 6:15 a.m. I hold my phone up in the air with extended arms, my eyes adjusting to the bright glow of my screen in the dark.
I check ZodiaCupid, remembering Bennett’s text on Saturday about the product launch. Where’s this app update you keep alluding to? I respond.
Bennett messages back immediately. Happy Monday to you, too! It’s launching this afternoon.
Before I can respond, another message appears.
Breakfast on me? I can give you a sneak preview.
Obviously, I need this sneak preview. I check my phone calendar for any client sessions—nonexistent—and meetings before agreeing to his offer. Except for a few check-ins with Alisha, my schedule is worryingly open.
After a couple hours of anticipation, I meet Bennett outside of Urth Caffé in downtown LA. I almost don’t recognize him in his white T-shirt, workout shorts, and running shoes. We take our place in line, which luckily isn’t as long today as it is most days.
“Looks great,” Bennett says, looking around at the quiet morning crowd. “I looked up this place on a buddy of mine’s newly launched dish-rating app and found a few items with four stars that we could try.”
I make a face. “It’s Urth. Most everything is good.”
“Two hundred and eighty-nine people rated the egg sandwich four point three stars. Let’s make sure we get it.”
“Two hundred and eighty-nine people? Wow. Well, it must be good then,” I tease. “You order what you want. I already know what I’m getting.” I look him up and down. “Important meetings after this?”
“I just came from a hike, actually. I texted you on the way up and didn’t have time to go home and shower.” Bennett tugs at his neckline a few times to air his shirt out. It’s still slightly damp from his workout, the fabric clinging to the curves of his chest.
I imagine he would be firm to the touch. Like he works out and takes care of himself, but not obsessively. The tips of my fingers pulse with the desire to reach out, just to see if I’m right.
“Mmhmm,” I mumble absentmindedly.
“I run to Griffith Observatory three times a week, then meet my Shoot for the Stars group up there every Monday. Why? Does this outfit bother you?” he asks, his questioning eyes sliding down my face. I flush, becoming hyperaware of what expression I’m making.
“It’s fine. Don’t feel like you have to get dressed up for me,” I say, watching him fan himself. Despite having just run up a mountain, he looks surprisingly great. His skin glows, and his musky smell is earthier than usual. In a good way. Is it possible he looks even more handsome?
“Noted. You, on the other hand, didn’t need to dress up so much,” Bennett says in a joking tone.
I glance down at my black jeans, front-tucked pink sweater, and plaid blazer. “I may not be seeing any clients today, but I’m a professional,” I say. I immediately wish I could take back the tidbit about the lack of client meetings.
“I’m only teasing. You look great,” he says. His gaze lingers on me and heat blossoms from my toes up to my chest.
“What’s Shoot for the Stars?” I ask, changing the subject.
“It’s a program to try to get young kids interested in STEM. What better place than the Griffith Observatory to do it?”
“It’s perfect,” I agree. “Griffith’s actually my favorite place to hike in LA.”
We shuffle forward in the line.
Bennett nods. “It’s incredible being able to escape into nature in the middle of a city. I’ll never take it for granted.”
“Exactly!” I say excitedly. I catch myself and tone down the energy. “And you bring the T in STEM, I assume?”
Bennett smiles. “I do. I try to make data analytics, computer programming, and machine learning sound fun. Which, it is, but some kids don’t always see the appeal at first.”
“I’m sure you leave quite the impression,” I say with slight sarcasm in my voice. “Do you make the kids run up the mountain, too?”
“It’s the first thing they do. I like to make them earn their knowledge,” Bennett says with a laugh.
He sets his menu down on the register counter as we approach. We place our orders, and he pays, as promised. We take our number to a metal table outside, settling into a spot next to the building’s painted brick wall.
“Let’s see this new feature,” I say, refocusing on the purpose for being here.
Bennett taps his screen a few times. “Here,” he says, placing his phone on the table between us. He moves his chair to the other side so he’s sitting next to me. His knee bumps into mine under the table but I don’t move my seat back. “I’ll walk you through how this feature works.”
I notice that the updated dashboard emphasizes the designed animal icons. A light pink swipe-through instruction panel pops up with illustrated peonies in the background, introducing me to the latest additions. I’m caught off guard by the use of peonies. Did Bennett think I’d like this feature because it uses my favorite flower?
I swipe through the mini-tutorial and learn that people receive a peony flower petal when they message with all twelve animal signs.
“When users message other users or go on dates, they earn more petals,” he explains. “When they fill out feedback about the date to help the algorithm improve, a petal is added. Ultimately, the petals add up and form a blossomed flower.”
“What do you get when you have a blossomed flower?” I ask, still focused on the screen.
“They all get added up into a bouquet. Besides the public acknowledgment of being active on the app, we’re playing around with the idea of sending users actual deliveries of flowers when they reach a certain number of bouquets.”
A waiter brings our food to the table. Bennett, surprise surprise, ordered the tried-and-true egg sandwich and green juice. I pour maple syrup over the top of my Belgian buttermilk waffles after taking a sip of my Earl Grey iced tea.
“The number next to the peony shows how active the users are on the app, so you know if someone’s serious about being on it. Basically, the higher the number, the more people they’re probably talking to,” Bennett elaborates, moving his egg sandwich around spiritedly. He bites into it, consuming the sandwich slowly and methodically.
Somehow, he looks cute chewing. No one looks cute chewing.
“Does it live up to the hype?” I ask as I cut my waffle into smaller pieces.
“Four point three stars did not do this sandwich justice!” he says excitedly. “This is definitely four point five stars.” He swallows and covers his mouth with his napkin as he laughs. It’s so endearing and innocent that my heart could burst. “Here, try some.”
Bennett twists the egg sandwich around so I’m eating from the side he hasn’t put his mouth on. I hesitate, but he looks excited for me to share his enjoyment. He holds the sandwich closer to me. We make awkward eye contact as I bite down, and my body shakes with nervous laughter at how intimate this is.
“That makes two hundred and ninety-one satisfied customers,” I say teasingly, my face flushed.
I scroll past Bennett’s peony petal count on his profile. It’s much higher than I expected. I would only have one petal.
I can feel Bennett watching me, waiting impatiently for my reaction.
“You gamified the app,” I say slowly, processing what I’m seeing. It’s a tacky addition, ultimately making the zodiac look like a game. People are now players in a different sense of the word.
“I was inspired by your favorite flower,” he says. “I thought it was beautiful and kind of perfect that they symbolize prosperity, good luck, and best of all, love and the rebirth of relationships. So much meaning!” Bennett wipes crumbs from his mouth.
I want him to know how insensitive his gamification move feels, but he’s clearly proud of this. I choose my words carefully. “Wow” is all that comes out. I can do better than that.
“I see what you were trying to do. What if you, I don’t know, focused on deepening the elements of the zodiac itself instead?” I propose.
Bennett’s smile falls. “Oh, do you not like it?”
I pause midbite, a piece of waffle hovering awkwardly between my plate and mouth. “How honest do you want me to be?” I ask.
Bennett shifts in his seat. “Well, I wanted your opinion, so…I guess tell me what you really think.”
This is where I can edge ZodiaCupid out and encourage him to continue down the path of something that would be bad for his company. I can see it now. Beta testers feel played and leave his app for us because we actually value love and match people based on compatibility. To us, love isn’t a competition.
I watch Bennett carefully. I could lie and say this is a good move, that people will love it. But when I look into his eyes, I can only tell the truth.
“I’m generally not a fan of adding gaming elements into nongaming spaces, especially when it comes to love,” I admit. “I think it has the potential to make people feel bad if they don’t have a high peony count. Or they might feel pressure to reach out to people just to look popular or desired, as though it’s better to have a higher score so the peony fully blossoms.”
Bennett listens carefully to my words.
“Does success look like high petal counts or quality matches that can’t be assigned numbers?” I continue. “Gaming elements can also be really addicting, which, I get it, you want to encourage people to be on the app, but it feels a bit forced.”
Bennett drops his head in disappointment. Maybe I’ve said too much.
“I’m sorry,” I continue. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“That’s tough to hear,” he says, rubbing his hand over his face. “But maybe you should try it before you fully judge it. This feature will help me find the love of your life, after all.”
My entire body shudders at the thought. “How exactly?” I ask, unconvinced.
Bennett leans forward, and I feel his arm heat against my own. “From what I know about you so far, I suspect you’d want to be with someone who doesn’t have a lot of peony petals. This feature lets me know who’s active but not too active. I can see which animals you interact with most and the reviews from the dates. Because I won’t have access to your profile from your phone, I’ll have to look on the back end who you match with. I’ll have to coordinate your date details with whoever I choose for you while pretending to be you.”
“Is this your ploy to mess with the algorithm? You can only match me with someone I actually matched with.”
Bennett bends closer. “I want you to fall in love. Someone matching on your profile is the best way for me to find love for you. Which reminds me. Can you update your profile as though you were using the app for real?”
“This is ridiculous,” I say, launching ZodiaCupid on my phone and reviewing my profile. More fun facts pop up on the screen. “Did you know Rembrandt was a Horse?”
“He was,” Bennett says. I can’t tell if that sounded more like a confirmation or a question.
“When I learned that little detail—from your fun facts, thank you very much—I wondered what traits he embodied. Who was the man behind some of history’s most iconic paintings?” I muse. I fill out the prompts on my profile with more detailed information about myself.
“I wrote those fun facts, thank you very much. And it was passion. The man had passion. He wouldn’t stop until he reached greatness,” Bennett clarifies. “He achieved great wealth in his life…until he lost it all by not getting enough commissioned portrait work and making some bad investments.” He lifts his green juice glass in a toast. “But hey, to passion!”
I fight back the impulse to laugh but Bennett’s flirty smile has rendered me defenseless. I lift my iced tea in a mock toast.
“There. Updated,” I say, setting my phone next to my plate. “So, about the whole love thing. When are you going to finally tell me about your feelings for Harper? I haven’t had a chance to catch up with her yet.”
Bennett shifts his footing and leans back against this chair. “She’s impressive, outgoing, accomplished, and has a contagious love of food,” he starts. “But—”
“But? No buts,” I say.
“But I don’t think she’s the girl I can see myself loving. Like, falling in love with.”
“You’ve only been on one date! Don’t tell me you also believe in love at first sight?” I sigh in exasperation.
Bennett laughs. “I’m sorry,” he says, sounding like he means it.
I shake my head from side to side. “I don’t accept that. If Harper wants to see you again, you need to go on a second date. Give her a chance. You both seemed to hit it off.”
Bennett fiddles with the straw in his now-empty juice glass. “She was interesting to talk to,” he says as though he’s actually considering it. “If she wants a second date, I’m open to it.”
I breathe out in relief, though a sliver of anxiety creeps in. “Great. I’ll keep you posted.”
“Don’t forget, your date is next.” Bennett’s lips firm into a straight line, his gaze quickly wandering over my face.
“The thought keeps me up at night,” I say melodramatically. “There’s no way I’m forgetting about it.”
Bennett knocks his knee into mine, and I can’t tell if it’s on purpose or not. The contact makes the hair on my arms spring to life.
“I do appreciate your honesty, no matter how brutal,” Bennett says. “Everyone on my team acted like they loved the idea. Maybe a couple of them were holding back their real thoughts. Thank you for not lying to me.”
My heart flips. No grudges here.
“Thanks for the waffles.” I shrug. “And it’s your business so you should do what you think is best.”
“In surveys that we sent out to users, fifty-eight percent said they’d like this,” Bennett says. “I thought this could increase user engagement.”
I shrug my shoulders. “People using your app are looking for human connection and love. Gamification plays up data too much for my taste. You’ve essentially made their dating lives a game. Love isn’t a game to everyone.”
“I’m trying to make it fun,” Bennett explains. “Especially for those who are already on the edge about the zodiac. This might keep them interested.”
“Maybe. But is that really why you want people using your app to begin with?” I push a strawberry into my mouth as I think. “Remember the scene in Big when Tom Hanks is sitting in a marketing meeting playing with a building that turns into a robot?”
Bennett’s eyes light up. “Yes. He breaks one of the arms off.”
“Right!” I say. “The guy running the meeting is shooting off all these data points and numbers about what kinds of toys kids are playing with. But it’s not what kids really want. Tom Hanks knows this because he is still a kid. He ignores what the numbers indicate and thinks up a different great idea based on gut instinct and emotion. He becomes a successful toy designer because of his feelings about toys, not because of data.”
Bennett furrows his brows and holds his hand over his mouth and nose. “You’re right. I can’t believe I’ve never thought about it like that before. I’ve always found comfort in numbers. They’re consistent, reliable.”
“Until you’re driven purely by numbers and all you make are purely financially motivated decisions,” I say in a gentle tone. My entire body aches at the recollection of his mother and why he does that. I have to actively resist the urge to hold him, hug him, and rub his back in support.
“Money keeps the lights on.” Bennett scoots back in his chair half a foot and leans his elbow up against the back of the chair. “In defense of numbers, they’re not always such a bad thing. Numbers give you feedback and a direction to move toward.”
“Maybe,” I say, unconvinced.
“Here’s an example. We found that eighty-eight percent of the users we surfaced the zodiac sign fun facts to enjoyed the app experience more than those who didn’t see them. They referred us to their friends and gave us high scores in our surveys.”
“Really?” I ask with a hint of skepticism. Bennett runs his hands down his thighs, the fabric of his shorts pulling tighter against his skin. I look away before he catches me staring.
Bennett lets out a short laugh and smiles. He caught me staring.
“In fact, they even requested more information about the Chinese zodiac,” he says.
“Well, that’s good,” I say, biting my lip. I mean it, even though I don’t want to in this moment. Anything that gets people excited about the zodiac is a positive in my eyes.
“Anyway, I’m glad I ran this by you before launching. I have a lot to think about and discuss with the team.”
“Anytime,” I say as a comfortable silence falls between us. “Well, I should get going. Some of us have real work to do.”
We stand to head our separate ways. “I’ll be in touch with your date details,” Bennett says, pushing his chair into its original spot.
“Can’t wait,” I mumble. If Bennett asked me when the last time I went on a date was, I wouldn’t be able to tell him because I can’t even remember when that was. I coach people all the time about how to date and remain calm about it, yet my own advice doesn’t bring me solace.
“Hey, I went into your date with an open mind and a good attitude,” Bennett says, snapping me free from my negative thought spiral. “You owe me that.”
“I owe you nothing,” I say, “but I’ll be on my best behavior.”
Bennett looms over me, studying my unamused expression. “I think watching you fall in love is going to be the highlight of my career.”