Page 10 of The Top of Admiration
“Yeah! You record your dog’s bark, and it tells you what they’re saying. Like, maybe my neighbor’s corgi keeps yelling ‘stop microwaving fish’ at me, not that I microwave fish, but you know … It’d be so enlightening. Damon could find out why Nettie is obsessed with his golf bag.”
I stifled a laugh. “You think dogs are trying to … communicate etiquette?”
“Of course they are. Dogs are just furry, judgmental people. Nettie is really judgmental, but she’s smart.” She eyed the black Labrador sitting at the side of the sofa as if to say “I’m onto you!”
I pinched the bridge of my nose. She was so serious. And I was so gone for her.
She went on, fully animated now. “Oh! And maybe it could also detect tone—like if the bark means ‘I love you’ or ‘stop singing Cher songs.’ That would help with relationships, right?”
“Between people or between species?”
“Both,” she said, deadpan.
I couldn’t help but grin. Her brain was chaos in motion, ideas fired faster than code ever could. I wanted to tell her that half her suggestions would get me sued, and the other half would probably end up in a psychology paper titled ‘The Tech-Enabled Breakdown of Modern Society.’ But I didn’t. I just watched her talk, all spark and sincerity, and thought, God, she’s amazing.
“And I’ve got one more,” she said suddenly, lowering her voice. “It’s called VibeCheckr. For workplaces.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Define … vibe.”
“You walk into the office, and it tells you if someone’s in a bad mood before you talk to them. Saves lives. Especially mine.”
“That’s … terrifyingly useful,” I admitted.
“I know! I’d be rich. You could code that too. Maybe link it to people’s email tone or—oh!—their typing speed. When Letty’s annoyed with me, she’s the fastest typist in the world. Once she hits 90 words per minute, I know I have to get my ass out to the café to buy her a coffee and pastry.”
“Is … Is Letty annoyed with you often?”
She scrunched up her nose. “Art people can be highly strung; they’re not all chill and calm like me.”
Maybe she could sometimes be described as chill, but I wasn’t sure calm was the right adjective.
“She likes things just so, so the smallest deviation can really rock her boat.”
I had to ask. I shouldn’t, but I had to.
“What are the small things that annoy her?”
She turned her eyes to the ceiling in serious thought.
“Well, I thought it would be on theme to create labels for stuff in the break room, you know, like the plaques on all of our works. She didn’t like that, but even Lucas thought it was funny. Just basic stuff like ‘Plate Whisperer’ on the dishwasher. But even tiny little things, like when I talk to the sculptures or change the background music, bother her.” She shook her head like this Letty was somehow unreasonable.
I was smiling before I realized it. “Miranda, are you pitching me three different apps that combine emotional manipulation, revenge, and mind-reading?”
She shrugged. “Innovation doesn’t wait for moral approval.”
I laughed, shaking my head, trying not to imagine actually coding VibeCheckr just to see what it said about me right now (probably “hopeless romantic with self-control issues).”
When she finally took a breath, sipping her soda, I thought of all the people who’d ever dismissed her as chaotic or flighty. They didn’t see this side, the bright, restless intelligence under all the impulsive energy. The spark that made her ideas ridiculous and brilliant at the same time.
“Cam,” she said suddenly, leaning closer, “do you think I’m crazy?”
I met her gaze, soft and steady. “No. I think you’re … unpredictable. And I’d rather build one of your impossible apps than a dozen practical ones without you in the room.”
Her cheeks flushed. She looked away, fumbling with her napkin, completely missing that I meant every word. I coughed into my hand and ended with the suave, “but I mostly just build practical apps for companies, like customer portals and stuff.”
I’d never build VibeCheckr. But if I did, I already knew the result:Level 10: You’re completely gone for her. Proceed with caution, or not at all.
I like to think I’d redeemed myself since then, but sometimes I still said weird things. And her collarbones had come up a few times now. She definitely suspected I had a fetish.
