Chapter 20
Twenty
Keep It G-Rated
Nora
I wake up already annoyed with myself, because the kiss from two days ago is there even before my eyes are fully open. It settles deep inside me, uninvited, like it camped out overnight and decided to rearrange the furniture. I stare at the ceiling, trying to make sense of it.
I’ve kissed enough guys I could write a dissertation on kissing styles in the twenty-first century.
The ones who dive in tongue-first as if they’re licking an ice cream cone.
The ones determined to count my teeth. The ones who go completely still, like kissing is a solo sport, and I’ve wandered onto their stage by accident.
None of them scattered my thoughts the way Miles did.
None of them made me forget where I was—or what I was supposed to be guarding.
With Miles, my brain didn’t just wander.
It rolled down the windows, hit the gas, and told me to enjoy the ride.
He paid attention. Followed my lead and then, somehow, took over.
And the thing that keeps replaying against my will?
His hand on my neck. Slightly possessive, but not rough, exactly how I showed him.
Oh god.
I squeeze my eyes shut and roll onto my side, my thighs brushing together on instinct.
Once he understood the assignment, he let his feelings take the lead instead of his thoughts.
Miles didn’t rush. He treated every cue like it mattered—like I mattered.
Which is ridiculous. Because it’s Miles.
Sweet, nerdy, black-rimmed-glasses Miles.
He’s the guy who overthinks, who asks before crossing lines, and who looks at me as if given the opportunity, he’d give me the world.
I cannot be falling for Miles. I am not falling for Miles.
It was only a charged moment on the beach.
I’m only caught up because it was unexpected.
Different. And—fine—because it was really, really good. That’s all.
I sit up, run a hand through my hair, and blow out a breath.
Get it together, Nora.
It was only a kiss, even if my body, and annoyingly my brain, seem determined to disagree.
My phone buzzes on the nightstand. My heart rate spikes.
Please don’t be him.
I still haven’t fully processed everything yet. I flip the phone over.
Mom
Good luck with the podcast today.
I blink. Once. Twice. “Oh shit,” I whisper. The podcast. I have the podcast today. The time on my phone stares back at me, and it nearly slips from my hand. “In an hour?” My voice cracks.
I fling myself out of bed and trip over yesterday’s clothes as I bolt for the bathroom. Cold water hits my face. My toothbrush goes straight into my mouth while droplets drip down my cheeks.
“You’re a professional,” I tell myself around the foam.
“You built an app. You can talk about it for thirty minutes without combusting.” I spit, pivot, and sprint back to my room, yanking clothes from my makeshift closet and tossing them aside while my thoughts flounder.
I need something that says “competent founder but not trying too hard.” Confident but approachable.
Successful but chill. I grab a top. No—too sparkly.
Another one. Practically see-through. I finally yank a simple V-neck from the hanger and pull it on.
As I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear, my thoughts slide right back to Miles and the warmth of his finger brushing my temple when he did the same thing.
I shake my head hard. “Nope. Not now.”
Laptop. Headset. Notebook. A half-empty water bottle.
I spread everything across the kitchen table as if I’m gearing up for battle.
Podcast first. Miles later. I adjust the screen until the background looks intentionally minimal instead of “I live in a studio apartment,” then triple-check that my mic isn’t muted.
I inhale a deep breath and click connect.
The screen flickers, then two smiling faces pop into view.
“Hi, Nora!” the woman on the left says. “I’m Claire.”
“And I’m Jess,” the other adds. “Thanks so much for joining us.”
“Hi,” I say, smiling back. “Thanks for having me.”
Once the intro music fades and the recording officially starts, my nerves settle enough that my fingers don’t shake.
“So,” Claire begins, leaning forward, “OneDate has been getting a lot of buzz lately. Let’s start at the beginning. How did the idea come to you?”
I take a breath. “A friend of mine needed a date for a wedding. Not because she was looking for love or trying to hook up—she just didn’t want to walk in alone and spend the whole night fielding questions.”
Jess laughs. “The dreaded interrogation.”
“The Aunt Cindy interrogation,” I say, laughing too. “You know—‘When are you going to settle down? Have you met anyone? Why are you still single?’ She just needed someone on her arm to keep the pressure off for one night.”
Claire smiles. “Okay, I immediately understand the appeal.”
“And,” I add, “there might have been a tiny bit of make-a-guy-jealous energy involved.”
Jess’s eyes widen. “Oh! That sounds messy.”
“It can be,” I admit, grinning. “But in this case, everything worked out for all parties.”
Claire tilts her head. “So OneDate isn’t a traditional dating app.”
“Exactly. OneDate isn’t about finding your soulmate, and it’s definitely not a hookup app. It’s a solution for people who need a date for an event—a wedding, a holiday party, a work gala. Or a high school reunion where your ex is bringing someone named Madison.”
Jess snorts. “Madison. It’s always Madison.”
“Right?” I laugh. “It’s for anyone who’s tired of being the only single person at their company Christmas party for the third year in a row. It’s for people who just want to show up with someone, take the pressure off, have a fun night—and go home without turning it into a big life situation.”
Claire nods. “What does OneDate actually do?”
“We arrange the date. We match people based on what they’re looking for—vibe, boundaries, comfort level, energy for the night. And then we step back. OneDate doesn’t get involved with feelings. We don’t promise love. We don’t pretend one night has to mean forever.”
Jess smiles. “You’re basically saying you provide the plus-one… not the soulmate.”
“Exactly,” I say. “We’re here to get you through the wedding seating chart, not redesign your entire future.”
Claire nods. “Even though it’s not for dating dating, have you heard of anyone actually finding love through it?”
I laugh softly. “Yes. I’ve gotten a few emails from people who went on their first OneDate and then… kept going. They planned a second date on their own. Then a third. And suddenly it turned into something real.”
Jess’s eyes brighten. “Okay, that’s adorable.”
“It is,” I agree. “And I love hearing those stories. But I’m always clear with people when they sign up: love isn’t the problem I’m solving.”
“So if love happens,” Jess says, smiling, “it’s a bonus.”
“Precisely,” I say. “Is it natural for something to grow out of a good date? Absolutely. But if your goal is to find your forever person, or you’re just looking for a hookup, there are apps built specifically for that. OneDate isn’t trying to compete in those lanes.”
Jess flips a page in her notes. “What’s been your biggest milestone so far?”
I laugh. “Surviving our first major traffic surge without the servers catching fire.” Both hosts laugh with me.
“But seriously,” I continue, “seeing people finish dates and come back to leave good ratings, and then schedule another, that’s been huge.
It tells me they’re engaging with the idea, not just downloading the app and forgetting about it. ”
Claire glances at her notes. “We’ve heard OneDate recently saw a big uptick in users. Do you feel ready for that kind of growth?”
My chest tightens, but in a good way. “I think any founder who says they’re completely ready is lying a little. But I built OneDate to scale thoughtfully. Slow growth that stays true to the mission matters more to me than fast growth that compromises it.”
“Do you plan to expand?” Jess asks. “More cities? New features?”
“Yes,” I say. “But carefully. I’m focused on protecting the core experience, one connection at a time.
If we add features, they’ll support that, not distract from it.
And since I’m a one-woman operation, I need to make sure each piece works flawlessly before adding more.
More people means more traffic, more strain on the infrastructure I’ve built, and I need to adjust as I go. ”
Jess nods. “Last question—what do you hope OneDate changes about dating culture?”
I pause. It’s not something I’ve ever really put into words.
The app started as a simple solution to a friend’s problem.
I smile. “Honestly? I hope it makes people feel less alone in moments when everyone else seems paired off. Sometimes you don’t need romance—you just need someone in your corner so you can breathe. ”
“Seriously,” Claire says, grinning. “This was a great conversation.”
“Agreed,” Jess adds. “We can’t wait to see where OneDate goes.”
The recording wraps, both hosts thanking me again before the screen goes dark. I sit there for a beat, heart still pounding, then let out a shaky laugh. I did it.
My hand goes to my phone, finger hovering over Miles’s name only for a second, then I stop myself.
My pulse picks up, and everything becomes clear.
A teeny tiny part of me likes him, and that’s the problem but also the truth.
And if we’re going to keep this fake-dating thing going—showing up for his family, pretending we’re together—I can’t keep letting it blur into something else.
“Okay,” I murmur. “G-rated.”
Normally, separating sex from feelings is easy. Mostly because the feelings haven’t existed. But this is different. Miles is different. I need to talk to him. Tell him we need to slow down. Keep it simple, so my head can stop spinning and my heart can remember the plan.