Page 12 of Hang the Moon
“Whoa,whoa.” His jaw hung open as he stared at her. “Deathof romance?”
Who was to say what exactly had killed it, but she had a suspicion modern dating had delivered the final blow. With the advent of dating apps, people didn’t have toworkto get laid, which was all most people were after. The old, tried-and-true bare minimum of wining and dining someone wasn’t even necessary anymore, not in this world of instant gratification. And those who claimed to be looking for more, for love? They might put in the effort at first, but it was only ever a matter of time before the mask slipped and people showed their true colors.
People stopped trying, then they stopped caring.
She’d watched it happen, experienced it firsthand, too many times, so many she’d lost count. Sparks that fizzled. Forgotten birthdays, breakups that happened via text if they even happened at all, with ghosting the new norm. Having expectations for more was exhausting. She would rather expect the worst than suffer constant disappointment, hoping one day someone might surprise her.
She took another fortifying sip and proceeded with caution. “You have to admit, people have ridiculously short attention spans.”
“Most people,” he agreed, causing her shoulders to slump in relief.
“Mostpeople want a thirty-second sound bite, two hundred and eighty characters or less. Anything longer than that and they move on, because they don’t really care. And no one remembers anything, because why should they? It’s all online. When was the last time you remembered a friend’s birthday without Facebook reminding you?”
He frowned. “It’s convenient.”
“Since when are friendships, let alone love, supposed to be convenient? Swiping through pictures—”
“We aren’t swipe based. We have an algorithm that matches users based on several key compatibility variables determined via questionnaires and what we hope are fun personality quizzes. We evaluate shared interests and values, communication styles, senses of humor.” Forearms once again resting on the edge of the table, Brendon spoke zealously, his eyes brightening. “Actually, one of the common complaints about OTP isthat wearen’tas convenient as other apps. No one wants to answer a fifty-question survey just so they can access their available matches in hopes ofmaybefinding someone to get laid. It’s easier to download a different app. Which is fine. I’m not worried about being the most downloaded app, the one with the greatest number of users. That’s not what we’re about. It’s not about ad revenue. It’s not about the money from premium account upgrades. It’s about making people happy by helping them find love.Thatis what I want OTP to be best at.”
She smiled tightly, biting her tongue. She didn’t want to burst his bubble by telling him she believed that he could try, but for every person who cared about finding love, there’d be a dozen more who didn’t care at all. That they might say they did, might bemoan their singledom, might even start out with the best intentions, but when push came to shove, most people wanted easy. “That sounds... commendable.”
He stared, gaze intensely locked on her face, while he chewed on his lip, the gears in his head all but visibly whirring. She crossed her ankles and braced herself for him to give her his best. Worst.Whatever.
“You know, Darcy sounded pretty jaded about dating before she met Elle.”
She threw her napkin on the table beside her plate and shook her head, laughing under her breath.
“Oh my God. I cannot believe I walked into that.” She should’ve seen this coming a mile away. She should’ve seen this cominglight-yearsaway. From outer space, a galaxy far, far away. “I don’t even know where to start. You’re so many shades of wrong, it’s not even funny.”
His lips twitched. “And yet you’re laughing.”
“Because I amflummoxedby how we went, in the span of five minutes, from discussing Carson Daly tothis.”
He laughed harder, which spurred her on, making her pinch her lips together to keep from chuckling.
“You’re ridiculous and I shouldn’t have expected anything less. Darcy told me you were like this.”
“Like what?” A curious divot appeared between his brows.
Upon moving to Seattle, Darcy had suffered through countless blind dates set up by her brother, who refused to listen when she told him time and time again that she wasn’t interested. Granted, Darcy’s heart had been broken by her good-for-nothing ex, Natasha, so when she said she wasn’t interested, it didn’t exactly take a genius to understand she was scared of putting her heart on the line. Brendon had had good intentions in pushing her to put herself back out there, and he’d successfully found a match for Darcy in Elle, but none of that changed the fact that he didn’t know when to pump the brakes when it came to his meddling.
She twirled the stem of her nearly empty wineglass between her fingers. “Stubborn, for starters.”
“I prefertenacious.”
She sputtered, glad she had yet to take a sip. Brendon would’ve wound up wearing wine. “Pretty sure the exact word Darcy used waspigheaded.”
He smiled roguishly. “You sure she didn’t saypleasantly persistent?”
Her pulse pounded. Something about the flash of his whiteteeth against the pink of his lips paired with their rapidly heating argument caused her heart to race.
“Pushy, more like. And she said you have a penchant for armchair psychology.” She tucked a strand of hair she’d missed behind her ear. “I’m not your sister, Brendon.”
Something she couldn’t put a name to flickered in his brown eyes. “No. You’re not.”
She swallowed hard, her throat inexplicably dry. “And I’m not nursing a broken heart, either. Nor am I secretly waiting around for someone to sweep me off my feet.”
“Sure.” He nodded dismissively. “Whatever you say.”
