Page 3 of Meet Cute Reboot
“Why do you think people will allow Cupid to choose their date for them, versus browsing through singles themselves?”
I tell her what I told Sarah: some people aren’t good at choosing a match and they need a little help from a state-of-the-art AI. I say a few words about AI technology, how it’s already helping us write novels, create art, drive our cars, provide companionship. I finish by explaining how Cupid will learn from each successful match to increase the odds of creating successful matches in the future.
“No one has approached dating from this angle,” I say. “I’m the first, and I think as MatchAI produces more and more successful matches, people will come to trust Cupid better than they trust themselves.”
Sweat trickles down my temple and slides down my cheekbone. Hopefully it’s not visible on camera. If I wasn’t wearing this light clothing, I’d be a raging furnace right now.
Sarah helped me choose my outfit. I wanted to wear a suit jacket and matching pants, but she pulled this blouse and cotton skirt from my closet because, according to her, “It’s too hot in Charleston for a fitted acrylic straitjacket.” I like my suits, but Sarah was right.
Felicia asks me a few more questions about my plans to grow the user base, whether I’m going to take the application national or even global. I tell her I’ll follow demand. The more interest there is, the more I will expand into new territories.
“We’re going to use the app today, right?” Felicia says.
“Yes, that’s the plan.” I remind myself to smile.
“We’ve already set up your phone to stream to the screen behind us,” Felicia continues, “so let’s get to it.”
“All right. I can’t wait.” Excitement mingles with my nerves, like the feeling a gambler gets in Las Vegas before punching the button on the slot machine. I mean, who knows? Maybe I’ll find my perfect match today.
I lean over and grab my phone from the coffee table. “Okay... Let me pull up the app.”
I click the MatchAI icon on my phone and look over my shoulder. The home page displays on the LCD screen behind us.
“Do we have the feed?” Felicia asks the tech guy. He gives us a thumbs up.
The app is simple. A person icon in the bottom left corner leads to the extensive profile page where the user can enter hundreds of details and stats about themselves. A conversation button in the bottom right corner leads to the embedded messaging application. Otherwise, the home page consists of a very large, very pink Choose button.
I tap the button and a carousel of male pictures zooms by, losing momentum as the seconds wear on. Next comes the slow click of potential matches, one after the other, until the phone dings and Cupid’s choice fills my screen.
A fire ignites in my belly, a fury of nerves, shock, anger, disbelief.
This can’t be happening.
My ex—the guy who cheated on me—smiles at me from my phone screen. I don’t dare look over my shoulder where I know he’s smiling at me larger than life in high definition.
My worst fear is about to happen.
I’m gonna throw up on live TV.
Chapter 2
Luke
Cassie looks gorgeous even with her mouth hanging open like that. The studio lights love her, giving her skin a warm glow that complements the large yellow and tan flowers on her skirt.
I know Cassie well enough to know she’s forcing a smile, forcing herself to trade niceties back and forth with Felicia. I sink into my couch and press my palms to my forehead.
“What have you done?”
My heart leaps. I spin around. “Mom! You have to stop sneaking in!”
“Luke Curtis,whathave you done?” She’s holding her morning mug of tea.
“What areyoudoing here at seven thirty in the morning? We’re supposed to be neighbors, not roommates!”
I moved back to Charleston two months ago, trading the hustle and bustle of L.A. for a much calmer pace. The L.A. branch of my venture capital firm, Stratos Capital, runs smoothly without me, allowing me to open a branch here. I’ll still head to L.A. now andthen and do weekly virtual check-ins, but I trust my partners to handle most of the daily business.
However, there’s a glitch in my dream of paradise in historic Charleston. Mom.