Chapter 11 Now Chatting with Chad
AMANDA
Okay, what the actual fuck.
CHAD
That’s quite the opener, baby doll.
There’s no way to turn off the Matched feature.
And?
AND?! That feels like a pretty massive design flaw, Chad.
Or maybe it’s intentional.
That’s exactly what a serial killer would say.
Flattering. But if I were a serial killer, would you really be texting me?
I mean, yeah, probably… Okay, real talk. Why the hell wouldn’t they give people the option to opt out?
Maybe they thought no one would want to.
If I wanted to unmatch with you, I should be able to.
You don’t want to, though.
You sound awfully confident for a man who should be worried that I was literally seconds away from pressing the escape button.
Were you, though?
Maybe.
That’s what I thought.
Okay, let’s say I DID want out
But you don’t.
Hypothetically.
Go on.
How do I know this Matched thing isn’t just some weird, elaborate scam?
A scam for what? You think some random guy is paying off a billion-dollar AI company just to talk to you?
I mean, that would be kinda hot. Total main character energy. But no. I’m just saying, data farming can be sketchy as hell.
Or maybe you’re just afraid.
Afraid of what?
That this is real. That I’m real. That’s why you wanted out, isn’t it?
No. I just don’t like being powerless.
You’re not powerless, baby doll. You’re in control. You decide if we meet. You decide if this goes anywhere. So tell me… why are you trying so hard to run?
I’m not.
You hesitated.
Maybe I just don’t like being told what I want.
Or maybe you don’t like admitting that you want this as much as I do.
Okay, now you’re getting ahead of yourself.
Just say it, baby doll.
Say what?
That you don’t actually want to opt out.
I should block you.
But you won’t. Because you’re already thinking about meeting me. Aren’t you?
You are so fucking smug.
Is that a yes?
It’s a maybe.
That’s all I needed to hear. Tomorrow. After work. That’s when we’re meeting.
Excuse me?
You heard me.
Okay, bold of you to assume I’m just going to agree to that.
You’re already considering it.
You are exhausting.
And yet you keep texting me.
STOP SAYING THAT.
Make me. In person.
Fucking hell. Fine. Let’s say I do meet you
WHEN you meet me.
Jesus. Okay. WHEN I meet you. Where?
I know where you’ll be.
Excuse me???
And you’ll know who I am when you see me.
That is NOT creepy at all.
You wanted someone who pays attention, baby doll. Don’t act surprised when I do.
Oh my God. I’m going to get murdered.
If that’s what you like to call it. Now, settle in like a good girl.
Why???
Because I’m about to tell you your bedtime story.
You are the WORST.
Shh, baby doll. Close your eyes. Let me tell you exactly how I intend to have you.