“The thought keeps me up at night,” I say melodramatically. “There’s no way I’m forgetting about it.”
Bennett knocks his knee into mine, and I can’t tell if it’s on purpose or not. The contact makes the hair on my arms spring to life.
“I do appreciate your honesty, no matter how brutal,” Bennett says. “Everyone on my team acted like they loved the idea. Maybe a couple of them were holding back their real thoughts. Thank you for not lying to me.”
My heart flips. No grudges here.
“Thanks for the waffles.” I shrug. “And it’s your business so you should do what you think is best.”
“In surveys that we sent out to users, fifty-eight percent said they’d like this,” Bennett says. “I thought this could increase user engagement.”
I shrug my shoulders. “People using your app are looking for human connection and love. Gamification plays up data too much for my taste. You’ve essentially made their dating lives a game. Love isn’t a game to everyone.”
“I’m trying to make it fun,” Bennett explains. “Especially for those who are already on the edge about the zodiac. This might keep them interested.”
“Maybe. But is that really why you want people using your app to begin with?” I push a strawberry into my mouth as I think. “Remember the scene in Big when Tom Hanks is sitting in a marketing meeting playing with a building that turns into a robot?”
Bennett’s eyes light up. “Yes. He breaks one of the arms off.”
“Right!” I say. “The guy running the meeting is shooting off all these data points and numbers about what kinds of toys kids are playing with. But it’s not what kids really want. Tom Hanks knows this because he is still a kid. He ignores what the numbers indicate and thinks up a different great idea based on gut instinct and emotion. He becomes a successful toy designer because of his feelings about toys, not because of data.”
Bennett furrows his brows and holds his hand over his mouth and nose. “You’re right. I can’t believe I’ve never thought about it like that before. I’ve always found comfort in numbers. They’re consistent, reliable.”
“Until you’re driven purely by numbers and all you make are purely financially motivated decisions,” I say in a gentle tone. My entire body aches at the recollection of his mother and why he does that. I have to actively resist the urge to hold him, hug him, and rub his back in support.
“Money keeps the lights on.” Bennett scoots back in his chair half a foot and leans his elbow up against the back of the chair. “In defense of numbers, they’re not always such a bad thing. Numbers give you feedback and a direction to move toward.”
“Maybe,” I say, unconvinced.
“Here’s an example. We found that eighty-eight percent of the users we surfaced the zodiac sign fun facts to enjoyed the app experience more than those who didn’t see them. They referred us to their friends and gave us high scores in our surveys.”
“Really?” I ask with a hint of skepticism. Bennett runs his hands down his thighs, the fabric of his shorts pulling tighter against his skin. I look away before he catches me staring.
Bennett lets out a short laugh and smiles. He caught me staring.
“In fact, they even requested more information about the Chinese zodiac,” he says.
“Well, that’s good,” I say, biting my lip. I mean it, even though I don’t want to in this moment. Anything that gets people excited about the zodiac is a positive in my eyes.
“Anyway, I’m glad I ran this by you before launching. I have a lot to think about and discuss with the team.”
“Anytime,” I say as a comfortable silence falls between us. “Well, I should get going. Some of us have real work to do.”
We stand to head our separate ways. “I’ll be in touch with your date details,” Bennett says, pushing his chair into its original spot.
“Can’t wait,” I mumble. If Bennett asked me when the last time I went on a date was, I wouldn’t be able to tell him because I can’t even remember when that was. I coach people all the time about how to date and remain calm about it, yet my own advice doesn’t bring me solace.
“Hey, I went into your date with an open mind and a good attitude,” Bennett says, snapping me free from my negative thought spiral. “You owe me that.”
“I owe you nothing,” I say, “but I’ll be on my best behavior.”
Bennett looms over me, studying my unamused expression. “I think watching you fall in love is going to be the highlight of my career.”
Chapter 13
His name is Owen Rossi, and he’s Year of the Tiger,” Bennett explains, listing off the key points from my date’s profile. I try on a blue hat in the souvenir shop at Dodger Stadium, where I’ll apparently be meeting my perfect match named Owen. The store is filled with zealous fans eager to spend hard-earned money on overpriced tees and hats to prove their loyalty to their favorite team and players.
I give Bennett an impressed look. “A compatible sign,” I say. “Interesting. Worried that your incompatible theory wasn’t going to pan out?”
Bennett lifts the hat off my head and drops a pink one in its place. He looks at my reflection in the mirror and shakes his head, pulling the pink cap off.
“We do both,” he says.
“Did you really need to buy a ticket to be here? I can handle this on my own.”
“Mine’s a nosebleed seat. I need to make sure you do this the honest way. At least I’m candid about being here,” Bennett says. “You’re meeting Owen at the seats. You’ll be behind home plate.”
I whistle in a low tune. “These tickets must have cost a fortune. I thought you haven’t raised money yet?”
Bennett flips through the replica player jerseys on hangers looking for a specific size and turns his head toward me. “Normally, users pay for dates, but because of our arrangement, ZodiaCupid treated you two to this. Our hope is that users aren’t going on a lot of dates, and that the ones they do go on are enjoyable.”
I rummage through key chains in a basket. “I’m not complaining. I haven’t been to a game in years. I used to come here with my dad all the time. He loves baseball.”
Bennett holds a jersey out in front of him and then drapes it against himself, looking down at it and then back up at me. “How does this look?”
It’s a simple, casual question that forces me to look at him. No. Not look. Observe. To evaluate how the width of the shirt aligns with his shoulders. Perfectly. To follow the buttons down his torso to ensure the length works for him. It does. The polyester top falls against his chest flatteringly, the shallow V-neck drawing my attention to places that are wildly inappropriate given the circumstances.