“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.