Page 4 of Debugging Love

People are still streaming past, several of the ladies stealing glances at Chance as they walk by. I would too. He stands nearlya head taller than me, his sturdy build dressed in a navy T-shirt that looks dressy against his dark-wash denim.

“Ask me where I went to school,” he says.

I press my lips together while considering whether I want to play along. My small, leather-fringed purse holds my necessities: my phone, a tube of lipstick, some cash, and my debit card. I swing it around and grab the phone, swiftly pulling up Chance Balasu’s profile on MatchAI. “Where did you go to school?”

“Harvard-Westlake. Ask me where else.”

I tuck my chin and peer up at him, one eyebrow arched. “Where else?”

“Treamis. Now ask me where I’m from.”

“Where are you from?”

“Bengaluru in Karnataka, India. Originally from California, but my father moved us to India when I was thirteen to take over my grandpa’s investment company.”

I click off my phone and drop it in my purse. “Well. That checks out.”

“I explained in my bio that I’m using an avatar. It’s in the first paragraph so people won’t miss it. I didn’t want some app storing my biometric data or fueling the deepfakers, so I generated an AI photo. You read my bio, right?”

“I—I must have missed that part.”

“Didn’t you think it was strange that a white guy went to school in India? Or that a guy named Chance wasfromIndia?”

“I thought maybe your parents were rich and lived abroad.”

“My parents are rich.”

“That’s nice.”

“It is.”

“Ya’ll comin’?” The ship’s captain waves.

Chance waves back and then refocuses on me. “I’ve never been on a showboat.”

“We’re doing this?”

“Up to you, cranky.”

My jaw unhinges. “Forgive me for being careful in a manly world that is sometimes dangerous for women.”

“No. I get it. But we both filled out background checks and I passed your quiz. So...” He swoops his index fingers toward the boat.

My boss, Christopher, gifted me these tickets along with a coupon for MatchAI during our Christmas in July white elephant exchange. He’s expecting a report on Monday. If I don’t go on this date, I’ll have to lie or tell him that I wasted his tickets. I don’t like either option. The tickets weren’t cheap.

I turn toward the boat and head down the gangway, examining the Carolina Excursion as I cross the water. Traditional red, white and blue showboat colors wrap the exterior of the triple-decker 1800s paddlewheel-style boat. It boasts three ballrooms, abundant dining space, and an open-air top deck.

The captain welcomes us aboard and encourages us to head up to the top deck to enjoy the view of Charleston as we cast off. I veer to the stairs and climb three flights without looking over my shoulder.

The top deck is bright and cheery. White tables and chairs match the white deck and bulkheads. A colorful bar sits on one end. Many passengers have already helped themselves to drinks.

I find an empty spot at the railing and gaze out over the Charleston skyline, never growing tired of the city’s charm. As we follow the shoreline, we’ll glimpse my workplace, the Citizen’s Tower. Built in the early 1900s, it was one of Charleston’s first skyrises, with ten floors and an ornate facade. The boat will skim the shores of Charleston Harbor and then paddle into open waters for the rest of the three-hour cruise.

After working in Indianapolis through five cold and snowy winters, I knew I wanted to find a job somewhere south. I applied to companies all over Georgia, Florida, even Texas, butwhen I received the offer at JetAero, I knew immediately it was the job for me. I’d already studied Charleston, learned a little of the city’s history, spent hours studying maps and Google Earth to decide where I wanted to live.

The location of JetAero’s Systems Support branch was icing on the cake. I’m not sure why corporate decided to lease the historic office space above Wetlands Restaurant and Stinny’s Bar, but I’m happy they did. Unless it’s inhumanely hot, I stroll along the harbor every day after lunch, enjoying the city’s juxtaposition of old and new.

“We’re moving,” Chance says. He leans against the railing, folding his hands out over the water.

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