Page 5 of Debugging Love

“Yeah,” I say stiffly. I’m still not over the “cranky” comment. Or the fake profile picture. But the view, the sun, and the light breeze are softening me a little.

“I’m sorry I confused you. I tried to make it obvious.” Chance’s cologne wafts in my direction. A woodiness mixed with a hint of cloves.

“I suppose I can understand your security concerns.”

I had my own. I didn’t list my vocation or where I worked in case my date was sketch. My instincts were on point. It’s too early to call, but we’re off to a bad start.

“I would have just skipped the app altogether though,” I add. “Why didn’t you try Match.com?”

“I did. Match, eHarmony, Zoosk, Christian Mingle—“

“You’re Christian?”

“No. EliteSingles. Farmers Only.”

I give Chance the side-eye. “Any others?”

“That’s it for now.”

“Wow. You’re a dating app...aficionado.”

“I need to cast a wide net.”

“Which includes farmers.”

“I’m a cowboy at heart.”

“You. A guy from Bengaluru, India.”

“Why not?”

I glance at him. He’s smirking.

I’m not sure how to respond, so I change the subject. “What will you do if you catch a woman in your wide net?” We’re nearing my office, which I’m not revealing to Chance. It looks even more idyllic from the boat.

He shifts his weight to one foot and props an elbow on the railing. “I don’t know. Hasn’t happened yet.”

“You haven’t found anyone good enough for you?”

“I guess not.”

We don’t have one of those moments, the ones in romance movies where the male and female lead look at each other, the music soars, and their faces say, “You’re the one.”

Nope. Doesn’t happen. At this point I’m seeing Chance less as a date, more as a character study.

“So you’re from Indianapolis,” Chance says.

“How do you know?”

“It was in your profile.”

I frown at the ripples drawn by the boat. “Oh. Yeah. That.”

“How did you end up in Charleston?”

“I grew up in southern Indiana. Bloomington. You probably don’t know it.”

“Not personally.”

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