I pulled in a breath and forced myself to meet her eyes.
“I ran our profiles through my app’s algorithm,” I said. “Before we really started getting to know each other. Right before I came to your workshop the other day.”
Holly blinked. “You what?”
“The dating app, the one I built? It has a compatibility algorithm—that’s the whole point of it. And I…” I tunneled a hand through my hair, already feeling like this was going badly. “I spent a couple of hours compiling information from your social media profiles, plus what’s available through publicrecords. And then I built a profile for you and ran it against mine.”
She stared down at me, her expression unreadable. “Why would you do that?“
“Because I was curious,” I admitted. “Because I couldn’t stop thinking about you, and I wanted to know if … if there was a reason for that. If it was just attraction or if there was something more.”
“And?” she asked, her voice carefully neutral.
“And we matched.” I swallowed hard. “At nearly 99 percent.”
The silence that followed this information felt like it lasted an eternity.
“Ninety-nine percent,” Holly repeated, setting her fork down carefully. “I’m assuming this is out of one hundred?”
“Yes,” I said. “And in the entire database, which includes hundreds of thousands of profiles, we’ve never seen a match that high between two people. The average is around 60 percent. Good matches are usually in the high 70s or low 80s. Anything over 90 percent is extremely rare.”
“And our percentage?”
“Statistically unprecedented. Historically, couples who match over 95 percent have a 94 percent chance of long-term relationship success. They almost always get engaged within a year. The data suggests that at that level of compatibility, you’re essentially looking at your optimal life partner.”
Holly took a step back, her hand coming up to rub at her temple. She bumped into the counter behind her and gripped the edge. “Let me make sure I understand this. You’re saying that after we’d met one time, you knew that we were … what? Soulmates? According to math?”
“According to a very sophisticated algorithm that accounts for thousands of data points related to compatibility, yes.”
“Jesus Christ, Luke.” She laughed, but it wasn’t a ‘haha’ laugh; it was slightly hysterical sounding. “That’s … that’s insane. You know that’s insane, right?”
“I know how it sounds,“ I said carefully. “But the algorithm works. That’s why the app was so successful. It predicts compatibility with shocking accuracy.”
“And you didn’t think to mention this to me at any point over the last several days? You just ... what? Decided to test the theory? See if the app was right?”
“No.”I started to move toward her, but she held up a hand and I froze in place. “Holly, no. It wasn’t like that. I didn’t approach you because of the algorithm. I approached you because Ilikedyou. Because I couldn’t stop thinking about you. The algorithm just … confirmed what I already felt.”
“But you knew,” she said, her voice tight. “You knew there was a chance we’d end up together. You had all this information about me, about us, and I had nothing. I was going in blind while you were following some predetermined script.”
“It wasn’t a script,” I insisted. “Holly, everything that happened between us was real. The conversations, the kiss, last night—all of it was one hundred percent authentic. The algorithm doesn’t predictfeelings. It doesn’t tell you what to say or how to act. It just measures compatibility based on values and preferences and?—”
“And you used it on me without my permission.” She wrapped her arms around herself in a protective—defensive—position, and turned away to stare out the window over the sink. Her shoulders were rigid, her spine straight. Every line of her body screamed ‘stay away.’
“You took my data—my private information—and you analyzed it and you made decisions based on it, and you never thought to ask if that was okay?”
Guilt crashed over me in a wave. “You’re right. I should have told you. I meant to—I wanted to—but there never seemed to be a right time, and then things moved so fast, and I was scared that if I told you, you’d?—”
“I’d what? Run? Leave?“ She laughed again, that same slightly unhinged sound. “Yeah, Luke. I probably would have. Because this is—” She gestured between us. “This is a lot. How would you feel if you found out that I’d basically been running an experiment on you this whole time?”
“It wasn’t an experiment.” My voice cracked. “Holly, please. I know I should have told you sooner. I know I fucked up. But my feelings for you are real. What happened last night was real. The algorithm didn’t make me fall in love with you. That happened all on its own.”
She went very still, then turned slowly to face me, her eyes wide.“You love me?”
I watched her chest rise and fall in quick, shallow breaths, like she couldn’t quite get enough air into her lungs.
Shit. That wasn’t how I’d meant to say that.
“Yes,” I said, because there was no point in backtracking now. “I love you. I’ve probably been in love with you since you kissed me on your porch. And I know that’s insane and you might argue that we barely know each other, and you probably think I’m some kind of stalker now.”
