Page 1 of Love's a Glitch
1
Ellie
You know in those movies where the A.I. becomes self-aware and tries to murder you? I was pretty sure that was happening to me.
Extra insulting, considering everything I’d done for my phone, too. I bought it glittery cases and cute pop-sockets that snagged on my pockets and had me juggling and sacrificing my body to prevent it from crashing to the ground; I never bought a purse without verifying it included a secure place to keep my cell safe from exploding pens and hand sanitizer spills; and I never let the charge dip below the twenty percent mark.
And what did I get in return?
Death by mortification, followed by another text chime that’d resuscitate me in time to display another message aimed at killing me all over again.
I didn’t just blame artificial intelligence, though. Love played a big part. Not because I loved my phone so much—although for the record, I definitely did—but because a handful of minutes ago, I’d been watching one of my besties reunite with the man she was madly in love with.
The air in Paddy’s Gaslamp Pub still buzzed with the fusion of hope and adoration that’d been packed into a serenade aimed to win back a lost love. As Archer and Penny kissed and canoodled, well on their way toward happily ever after, more longing than I wanted to admit to arose.
Catalina and I’d helped facilitate the reconciliation, and as we bumped fists beneath the table, congratulating ourselves on the part we’d played, I did my best to assure myself that one day, I’d find someone who loved me enough to make that kind of effort.
Burned out from a fruitless year of online dating, I’d taken a short break. Right then and there, with the contact high of love in full effect, I decided it was time to brush myself off and climb back on the horse that threw me.
Only when I’d gone to sign into my dating app, it crashed. Three times in a row. A lot of people did the auto-update thing, but there were always so many glitches—particularly when it came to the big software updates. Once my phone had been stuck verifying an update for twenty-four hours, that little gray wheel spinning and spinning and never getting anywhere. So now I played it safe. I let others act as guinea pigs, waited a couple of days for bugs to be fixed, and then downloaded the better, truly enhanced version.
As a web designer, I lived for new technology, from plugins to unique fonts and ways to optimize site speed while creating cutting-edge graphics and parallax animations. Waiting for this last update had been particularly difficult, as I’d heard there were fun new emojis, and I used those tiny faces and symbols like I used garlic. As my Yaya always said, never let a recipe tell you how many cloves to put in—you measure it with your heart.
“…all that about a group date?” Penny asked, her eyes narrowing on me. “Youliedto me.”
Liedwas so harsh. When Penny attempted to leave early, I’dstretchedthe truth in an attempt to keep her at our favorite bar. Instead of explaining I’d done it at the request of her boyfriend, I chose to redirect, pointing at our badass friend who was all too familiar with redirecting, as she used it in the courtroom. “So did Cat.”
“I expect that from her,” Penny said. “She’s a lawyer.”
“Hey!” Cat’s mouth dropped. She tossed a coaster at Penny, who ducked in time for it to smack into Archer’s shoulder instead. “It’s called evasive maneuvers and spinning the truth so you can deliver it at the best possible time to make your case. Don’t be jealous because I’m good at it.”
My gaze drifted to my phone again as Cat took over, only returning to the conversation when Penny admitted she was happy we’d coerced her into coming. With my thoughts so fixated on how difficult relationships were to attain and maintain, a sigh accidentally slipped out. “No one knows better than I do how hard it is to find love. I’ve dated half the city and still can’t find anyone I click with, and no one’s ever put so much as an ounce of that effort into winning me over.”
“It’ll happen, Ellie.” Penny leaned across the table to squeeze my hand. “I know the right guy is out there. The idiot’s just taking a while to find you so you two can play out an epic love story of your own.”
While I wanted to believe that, it was becoming more and more difficult.
My phone buzzed in my hand, and I glanced down, thinking perhaps my slow-ass soulmate had heard my plea to the universe.
Then my eyes nearly popped right out of my head, and part of me wished they’d gone on and done it. “No, no, no.” I tapped the glass screen, attempting to get my phone tostopupdating as past message after past message resent. It was as though someone had pressed fast forward and was zipping through months of texts at a time, a flash here and then a whoosh noise, followed by more messages, predominantly from all the online dating I’d done, going, going, gone.
So, see? When it came down to it, this was totally love’s fault. Why she’d teamed up with artificial intelligence to take me out, I had no idea. Where was Sarah Connor when I needed her? If she could take out a Terminator, surely she could handle my phone.
Panic bound my lungs in a thick wire, the barbs of embarrassment puncturing the vulnerable organs and leaving me short of air.No, not those desperate texts. Please don’t send those again.
Off they went into the universe anyway. Text after text from the night I’d gotten wasted and drunkenly professed my undying love to Dillon, the guy I’d been so sure was going to be the one.
Before he went and ghosted me. It’d taken me three whole weeks to get the hint.
Well, Sober Me had gotten the hint; Drunk Me had set out to attain extra proof, andholy shit, I’d sent a selfie from beside the toilet bowl I’d been puking into that night, my mascara smeared into a streaky raccoon mask of regret.
No wonder he didn’t come running back to me.
My blood pressure skyrocketed into the danger zone, my face growing as hot as my overworking phone. “Someone make it stop.” The next picture that flashed onscreen was worse in some ways, as it was from the night we’d cruised the bay on a sailboat. After dinner, we’d made love in the cabin and emerged in time to see the sunset.
With the sherbet-colored sky serving as our backdrop, I’d deemed it as the perfect time to snap a picture and then tell him I loved him.
Dillon hadn’t said it back. But he’d kissed me, and I’d reckoned that was close enough, chalking it up to guys being inept at spilling their emotions.
