“You’re overthinking.” Her voice stays calm as we transition. “He’s just another variable you can’t control. That’s what’s throwing you off.”
“My life already feels chaotic. I didn’t want to add to it.”
“Sometimes you take the chance anyway,” she replies, moving smoothly into the next pose. “And trust it works out.”
I wobble slightly. “Working out isn’t working out for me.”
She smiles. “Life always throws us curveballs. We can’t let them knock us down. Instead, we have to pick them up and throw them back.”
I grin despite myself. If anyone understands curveballs, it’s her, and yet she’s the one reminding me to be strong.
By the end of the week, I’m ready to face-plant into my pillow and not move for twelve hours. I onboard a handful of new users to OneDate, and—miracle of miracles—no new bugs surface. I even made it to yoga class twice with Mom. Both times I wasn’t the last person to arrive, which feels like a personal achievement on its own. I even slept in my bed three out of the seven nights. All small wins, but I’ll take them. After tonight’s shift at Porter’s, I plan to reward myself with a dramatic collapse into a mountain of pillows.
The bar is anticlimactic, so out of sheer boredom, I pull up Miles’s OneDate profile. The second it loads, I want to close it. Oh, Miles. His profile photo is him standing in front of a beige wall, wearing a beige polo, smiling as if he’s posing for a corporate ID badge. The flash reflects off his glasses so his eyes glow like two tiny interrogation lamps. The additional photos are… equally beige.
Then there’s his bio.
Hi, I’m Miles. I’m a FAA-certified drone pilot and owner of a drone services business with a strong attention to detail and a passion for precision technology. I’m analytical and curious by nature, with a love for learning, problem-solving, and meaningful conversation. Did you know not all owls hoot!
This isn’t a OneDate bio. It’s a LinkedIn profile with a fun fact. Any woman scrolling by wouldn’t give it a second glance. I shove my phone back into my pocket. Looking at it gives me hives. Instead, I let my gaze drift to Beck on the other side of the bar, wiping tables. After the week I’ve had, I deserve some harmless eye candy, especially when he bends.
The front door swings open, and Miles marches straight toward me, effectively blocking my view.
“I’ve been on the app for two days, and I don’t have a single date. Not even a maybe.” He peers up at me, brows knit together. “What am I doing wrong?”
I absolutely know the answer—but then he’ll know I’ve been snooping. “Let me see. Maybe I can help.”
He opens the app and hands me his phone. I scan the profile like I haven’t already memorized every beige pixel.
“Your profile reads like a job résumé.”
“I mean… I kind of am applying for a job. A job to be someone’s date.”
I roll my eyes. “It’s… a weak argument. No one wants to date a résumé. It’s stiff, boring, and completely unsexy.” He frowns. “You might as well add ‘my favorite color is blue’ or ‘I like dogs.’”
“It’s green. And cats, actually.” He hesitates. “But really? You think that’s the problem?”
“No,” I deadpan. “Why would someone want to pick you as their date over someone else?”
Miles blinks. “Because I’m polite. Thorough.”
“That might work in a job interview, but not here. You need intrigue. Personality. A reason to swipe instead of scroll.” Before he can protest, I hit backspace and delete his entire bio.
“Hey—”
“Trust me.” I type. “I’m Miles, a thirty-one-year-old entrepreneur ready to wow your family and friends with my charm and intelligence.”
I angle the phone toward him. “See? Engaging. Confident. Slightly mysterious.”
His face lights up. “Oh. I like that. Can I use it?”
I tap save. “It’s yours.”
He beams. “Thanks.”
“But,” I add, holding the phone hostage, “we’re also changing your profile picture and deleting the rest.”
“What’s wrong with my pictures?”
