Not even Lia.
“ I’m so excited!” Phoebe Francis of the Driftwood High School paper lined up her colored pens on the table. “I get to interview the most popular high school couple on theplanet!”
Brooks and I exchanged looks. We’d arrived at school prepared—or we thought we were prepared. We weren’t. Even Principal Carson met us to congratulate us on our “viral success” and for “putting Driftwood High on the map.”
That had not been our intention.
Now here we were, being interviewed by the school paper. Something every couple who is fake-dating dreams about. Not.
“So. Let’s start at the beginning.” Phoebe picked up a teal-colored pen as if that was her “beginning” color. “Brielle, what inspired you to create a fake boyfriend with AI?”
I opened my mouth to give a very rehearsed answer. I’d thought it up last night with Lia. It was a safe answer and—
“Was it desperation because no one would date you otherwise? Or was it because you thought it’d increase your desirability?”
“Um—”
“Or maybe you just did it for fun? As a test to see who would fall for an AI-generated boyfriend?” Phoebe waved her pen at me. “Because there is a lot of controversy right now about people finding love with AI personalities. Do you think it’s dangerous to develop a relationship with someone who is actually computer-generated?”
“Well, yes, I mean, they’re not really real, and I—”
“There have been a few awful stories in the news lately about teenagers just like us, developing romantic relationships with AI and then doing—well, awful things. It’s really sad. I mean, they’re trusting a computer and allowing it to influence what they say and what they think and, yeah. So, was that your frame of mind when you first created your AI boyfriend?”
“No!” I stared at Phoebe. My brain had never even considered any of that—although, I conceded, Phoebe wasn’t wrong.
I opened my mouth to answer.
Tried to remember my rehearsed response.
My brain went completely blank.
I opted for the first thing that popped into my mind. “My aunts were annoying me about not having a boyfriend, so I made one up.”
Phoebe blinked, obviously underwhelmed. “Oh.” She tapped her pen on her pad of paper. “And, did your aunts . . . fall for it?”
I nodded.
Shoot.
Great.
Now I was making my aunts out to be gullible and annoying. That hadn’t been my intention.
“And the AI image you created—” Phoebe pulled out her phone and flashed the photo I’d originally created that looked remarkably like Brooks, who now sat in stony silence next to me. “—What did you type into AI to come up with this image! I mean, it looks so much like you, Brooks,” she shifted to Brooks, “that I can hardly believe it’s really AI.”
Brooks looked at me.
Well, he was no help. How could he be?
I squirmed in my chair. “I—just typed in attributes that I liked.”
“That you wereattractedto?” Phoebe clarified.
Well, that was an uncomfortable question. I didn’t dare look at Brooks.
“Well—” I felt Brooks shift beside me. Was heenjoyingthis? “I just typed in general stuff, like—blond hair, blue eyes, and—cute.” It was a lame answer. Anyone who knew even basic stuff about AI had to know I’d beenwaymore detailed than that. But I wasn’t going to gush to the school newspaper that what I’d really typed was:
Create an image of a guy around 18 years old with beachy, surfer blond hair, blue eyes like the ocean, a square jawline, and an athletic build. Give him olive-tone skin, and if he looks baseball player-like, that’d be great.
