Chapter 4 Miles? Charming?
Four
Miles? Charming?
Nora
My eyelids snap open. Did I dream I fixed the code? I scramble off the couch and immediately miscalculate the distance to the floor. Instead of landing upright, I tumble sideways and thud onto the carpet.
“Awesome,” I mutter, brushing hair out of my eyes.
“Great start.” I push myself up and spin in a slow panic, scanning the living room.
Couch. Coffee table. Floor. No phone. “No, no, no,” I whisper, ripping the couch cushions free.
Finally, wedged in the corner, I find my phone.
I unlock it with fingers that feel like they’re running on unstable firmware, then open OneDate.
No error messages. No crashes. I drop onto the now cushionless couch and exhale. “It wasn’t a dream.”
My phone chimes with a notification.
One New Member: Miles.
The corner of my mouth twitches. He’s certainly eager to get started. It hasn’t even been twelve hours since I sent him the download code.
A preview message pops up on my phone.
Mom
Did you forget about yoga this morning?
The oversized numbers on the lock screen glow 8:23.
“Shit.” I scramble across the room toward the dresser, typing with one hand while the other yanks open a drawer and grabs the first pair of yoga pants it finds.
Nora
Nope. I’m on my way!
Mom
As in you’re changing now and will be out the door in five minutes.
I hop on one foot, dragging the yoga pants up my legs. Tank top on. Shirt over my head. I grab the nearest zip-up hoodie, give it a quick sniff test, then shove my arms through it.
Nora
Close.
When I slip into the yoga studio, my mat tucked under my arm, Mom is already seated in Sukhasana, eyes closed and posture perfect. I tiptoe toward her, roll out my mat, and drop into position.
She cracks one eye. “The only acceptable excuse for being late is a sleepover.”
“No sleepover,” I whisper. “But equally exciting.”
“Do tell.”
“I finally fixed the broken code in OneDate.”
She opens her other eye. “I’m happy for you. But that wasn’t the kind of exciting I was hoping for.”
The instructor cues us into Baddha Konasana.
“I promise,” I say, folding forward, “it was thrilling.” I hesitate. “Also…I gave Miles a download code.”
Mom hums. “And?”
“And I’m hoping I don’t regret it.”
“You’re overthinking.” Her voice stays calm as we transition. “He’s just another variable you can’t control. That’s what’s throwing you off.”
“My life already feels chaotic. I didn’t want to add to it.”
“Sometimes you take the chance anyway,” she replies, moving smoothly into the next pose. “And trust it works out.”
I wobble slightly. “Working out isn’t working out for me.”
She smiles. “Life always throws us curveballs. We can’t let them knock us down. Instead, we have to pick them up and throw them back.”
I grin despite myself. If anyone understands curveballs, it’s her, and yet she’s the one reminding me to be strong.
By the end of the week, I’m ready to face-plant into my pillow and not move for twelve hours.
I onboard a handful of new users to OneDate, and—miracle of miracles—no new bugs surface.
I even made it to yoga class twice with Mom.
Both times I wasn’t the last person to arrive, which feels like a personal achievement on its own.
I even slept in my bed three out of the seven nights.
All small wins, but I’ll take them. After tonight’s shift at Porter’s, I plan to reward myself with a dramatic collapse into a mountain of pillows.
The bar is anticlimactic, so out of sheer boredom, I pull up Miles’s OneDate profile.
The second it loads, I want to close it.
Oh, Miles. His profile photo is him standing in front of a beige wall, wearing a beige polo, smiling as if he’s posing for a corporate ID badge.
The flash reflects off his glasses so his eyes glow like two tiny interrogation lamps.
The additional photos are… equally beige.
Then there’s his bio.
Hi, I’m Miles. I’m a FAA-certified drone pilot and owner of a drone services business with a strong attention to detail and a passion for precision technology.
I’m analytical and curious by nature, with a love for learning, problem-solving, and meaningful conversation. Did you know not all owls hoot!
This isn’t a OneDate bio. It’s a LinkedIn profile with a fun fact.
Any woman scrolling by wouldn’t give it a second glance.
I shove my phone back into my pocket. Looking at it gives me hives.
Instead, I let my gaze drift to Beck on the other side of the bar, wiping tables.
After the week I’ve had, I deserve some harmless eye candy, especially when he bends.
The front door swings open, and Miles marches straight toward me, effectively blocking my view.
“I’ve been on the app for two days, and I don’t have a single date. Not even a maybe.” He peers up at me, brows knit together. “What am I doing wrong?”
I absolutely know the answer—but then he’ll know I’ve been snooping. “Let me see. Maybe I can help.”
He opens the app and hands me his phone. I scan the profile like I haven’t already memorized every beige pixel.
“Your profile reads like a job résumé.”
“I mean… I kind of am applying for a job. A job to be someone’s date.”
I roll my eyes. “It’s… a weak argument. No one wants to date a résumé. It’s stiff, boring, and completely unsexy.” He frowns. “You might as well add ‘my favorite color is blue’ or ‘I like dogs.’”
“It’s green. And cats, actually.” He hesitates. “But really? You think that’s the problem?”
“No,” I deadpan. “Why would someone want to pick you as their date over someone else?”
Miles blinks. “Because I’m polite. Thorough.”
“That might work in a job interview, but not here. You need intrigue. Personality. A reason to swipe instead of scroll.” Before he can protest, I hit backspace and delete his entire bio.
“Hey—”
“Trust me.” I type. “I’m Miles, a thirty-one-year-old entrepreneur ready to wow your family and friends with my charm and intelligence.”
I angle the phone toward him. “See? Engaging. Confident. Slightly mysterious.”
His face lights up. “Oh. I like that. Can I use it?”
I tap save. “It’s yours.”
He beams. “Thanks.”
“But,” I add, holding the phone hostage, “we’re also changing your profile picture and deleting the rest.”
“What’s wrong with my pictures?”
“Beige on beige isn’t a good look. And your cat is in the rest of them. They’re not dating your cat.”
“It shows a softer side.”
“Nope.” I hold up his phone. “Smile.” He barely has time to process the command before I snap the photo. “That,” I say, examining the screen, “is already ten times better. You can finish giving your profile a makeover. And you’ll be all set.”
He nods and immediately starts typing, brow furrowed like he’s drafting a business proposal instead of a dating bio. I slide down the bar to help a couple of customers just as Beck steps in beside me. His arm brushes mine, and goosebumps scatter across my skin before I can stop them.
He tips his chin toward Miles. “You’re building him a dating profile?”
“Unfortunately.” I grab a glass and start drying it. “He joined OneDate and hasn’t had much luck, so I gave him a few pointers.”
Beck’s mouth curves at the edges. “You think that’ll help?”
I glance over my shoulder. Miles is hunched over his phone in fierce determination. “I don’t know. But it’s worth a shot.”
Beck leans a little closer, his voice dropping, amused. “So… you’re his dating coach now?”
I snort. “Absolutely not. I’m only saving him from himself.”
His smile tilts, slow and sexy. “That’s a shame. I’d enjoy taking part in your services.”
Heat creeps up my neck, but I keep polishing the glass. “You? No. You’d be a lost cause.”
He plants a hand on the bar and leans toward me. “Ouch. And here I thought I had charm.”
“Oh, you have charm.” I finally meet his eyes. “You also have confidence. Which makes you overqualified.”
“With someone like you?” His gaze lingers. “I doubt it.”
The air between us thickens as the bar noise dulls to a low hum. I clear my throat and reach for another glass, mostly so my hands don’t betray me by running them down his chest. “Good line,” I murmur. “But lines aren’t my thing.”
He studies me, slow and curious. “What is your thing?”
“You’ll just have to figure it out.” I flash him a smile before sliding a bottle of beer to a customer.
His grin widens. “I do love a challenge.”
I open my mouth to fire back—
“NORA!” Miles’s voice slices through the bar.
Beck and I both turn. Miles stands five stools down, phone clutched in both hands, eyes wide behind his glasses.
“I got a match!” The surrounding chatter dips as a few heads swivel our way.
“A real one. On OneDate. She starred me. And then—I think—I starred her back?”
Beck’s lips twitch. “Sounds serious.”
Miles jogs over, nearly catching his foot on a barstool. “She messaged me.”
My brain stalls. “She—already?”
He nods so fast his glasses slide down his nose. “Yes. And she used an emoji. I think that’s good. Is that good?”
“It’s good,” I assure him. “Very good.”
Beck glances between us, amused. “Congratulations, man.”
Only then does Miles register him. “Oh. Hi. Sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt—”
“It’s all good.” Beck’s hand settles briefly at the center of my back before he steps away. “I’ll go stock some coolers.”
Miles turns back to me, lowering his voice. “What do I say next? I don’t want to mess this up.”
“Keep it simple,” I tell him. “Friendly. Clear. You’re just arranging details.”
He nods, fingers hovering over the screen. “Okay. Simple. Clear.” He types. Stops. Deletes. Types again. “I’m overthinking,” he mutters. “She says she needs a date for her cousin’s engagement party.”
My stomach flips. “That’s great. That’s exactly what the app is for.”
“I know!” He grins, then falters. “Is it weird that I’m this excited?”
My lips press into a tight smile. “Not at all.”