“I should probably workon OptiMatch for a bit,” I say reluctantly. “I’ve been neglecting it all week.”
“The dating app?” He sounds interested. “Can I see the updates?”
“You want to see my code on a Saturday night? Really living wild.”
“I want to see whatyou’repassionate about.” He kisses my temple. “Plus, I’m curious if we’re still ninety percent compatible.”
I lead him to my room, trying not to think about the last time we were in a bedroom together—his bedroom. My laptop sits on my desk between stacks of notebooks and empty coffee cups.
“Sorry about the mess,” I say, quickly shoving laundry into the hamper.
“Pip, you’ve seen my room. This is organized by comparison.” He settles into my desk chair, pulling me onto his lap when I protest. “What? Better viewing angle.”
“Sure, that’s why.”
“Purely practical,” he agrees, but his arms around my waist suggest otherwise.
I pull up the OptiMatch interface, hyperaware of every point where we’re touching. “So I’ve refined the algorithm since you last saw it. Added more weight to communication styles and conflict resolution approaches.”
“Smart.” His chin rests on my shoulder as I navigate through code. “What about physical compatibility?”
My fingers pause on the keyboard. “What about it?”
“Just wondering if the algorithm accounts for chemistry. That spark thing.”
“Chemistry is temporary,” I argue, but my voice comes out breathier than intended. “Compatibility is?—”
“More important, I know.” His lips brush my ear. “But what about when you have both?”
“That’s...” I lose my train of thought as his thumb strokes along my ribs. “That’s statistically unlikely.”
“Is it though?” He turns the chair so I’m facing him more directly. “Run the test again. Let’s see.”
“Now?”
“Why not? Unless you’re scared the percentage went down.”
“I’m not scared,” I lie, already pulling up the questionnaire. “Fine. But you have to answer honestly.”
“Scout’s honor.”
We go through the questions together, me reading them aloud while he answers. It’s different this time—more intimate, knowing each other better. When we get to the section about relationship goals, his answers make my heart race.
“Long-term plans?” I read.
“Definitely long-term focused,” he says without hesitation. “Next question.”
“Physical affection's importance?”
“Critical.” His arms tighten around me. “Very, very critical.”
“You’re supposed to take this seriously.”
“I am serious. Physical touch is my love language.”
I elbow him lightly but enter his response. We continue through the questionnaire, sexual tension building with each question about preferences and desires.
Finally, I hit submit.
