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Her face fell, genuine concern etched across her features. “Oh no, what happened?” she asked, pulling her hair into a messy bun.
I showed her the email. “This. This is what happened. I want my money back.”
“The app was free, babe,” she reminded me gently, her eyes widening as she glanced at the email. “But, wait a minute... aren’t you two just friends?”
“Yeah, best friends, and that’s all.” I tapped the screen of my phone. “But this damn app says that if I were gay, we’d be a perfect match for each other.”
Samantha shook her head in disbelief. “Oof, I don’t know what to tell you. My understanding is that this is all data driven; it looks at things like age, location, and interests when it predicts a perfect match.”
“That’s what I’m saying. What dating app would put Ben and I together? We don’t have anything—“ But I stopped talking and knew exactly what Sam was going to say next.
“Are you sure? I mean, you guys are best friends for a reason. Clearly you like hanging out together.” Samantha sat back in her chair. “Okay, so hear me out. I know this is weird, but…maybe it’s not a mistake, you know? These computers are pretty smart these days, and it’s not like there are humans that looked at this and said that you two had a lot in common. This was all coded together... somehow.” Samantha’s hands flapped in front of her. “Maybe the love code knows something we don’t.”
I rolled my eyes. “The love code? Come on, Sam. Ben and I are total opposites in every way that matters on a dating profile. There’s no way the algorithm could have matched us based on anything that we put in there. And you said that it looked into the internet to find out other things about us. If it’s so smart, wouldn’t it have noticed that I’m not gay?” I added with a side-to-side shake of my head.
“Opposites attract, right?” Samantha tilted her head, considering. “I don’t know... they say those algorithms dig deep. Maybe it sees a connection you’re not aware of.” She raised her hands again. “I don’t know what else to tell you. Maybe Ben is your soulmate,” she added with an exasperated laugh.
Soulmate. I took a deep breath. “Soulmates—that isn’t the same thing.” Would Ben be in my life for years to come? I hoped so. Best friends until the end—or until one of us settled down and family life pulled us away from each other.
“Isn’t it?”
I shook my head at Samantha. “No. Mangle is a dating app. Dating as in attraction, physical and sexual and emotional kinds of bonds. Ben wants—and needs—someone athletic and driven and ambitious like him. I’m more of a homebody with a dad bod.” A snort escaped me as I shook my head. “We don’t Mangle.”
Samantha shrugged. “Mangle thinks you do. But thanks for the insight. Let me know if there’s anything else I should know so I can craft them a better ad campaign.” She chuckled again and wandered back to her own desk, leaving me to my thoughts.
As I tried to focus on my work, my mind kept drifting back to the unusual match. Could there really be any truth to it? Were Ben and I more compatible than we realized? I shook my head, trying to push those thoughts away. It had to be a mistake. Yes, we knew each other inside and out, and our friendship had stood the test of time, but that didn’t necessarily translate to romantic compatibility.
Maybe the AI wasn’t entirely wrong—Ben was my perfect match, but just not in the way Mangle had intended.
Later that evening, I stepped into the shower before getting ready for bed. The warm water cascaded down my body, soothing my weary muscles. As my hands roamed over my thicker midsection, I couldn’t help but scrutinize myself. I’d always carried some extra weight, but at six foot four, my larger frame could disguise it. But when I was naked, like this, I noticed every curve and bulge, my soft belly and less-than-toned arms. Dimpled thighs, round ass—how could someone with a perfect physique like Ben ever be matched with a chub like me?
No, Mangle had gotten it wrong.
five
Ben
The squeak of sneakers and thud of the ball on concrete echoed across the empty basketball court as Leo and I played our weekly early morning game with a group of friends. Today it was two-on-two, and in between heavy breaths and swift dribbles, our conversation drifted from weekend plans to work woes.
“I’m telling you, this latest project is going to be the death of me,” Steve grumbled as he aggressively passed the ball. Steve worked at CodeCraft with me, in a different department. “No matter what I try, I can’t seem to fix this damn bug. I’ve been combing through the code line by line for days and feel like I’m losing my mind.”
I chuckled as I easily intercepted Steve’s sloppy pass, amused by his frustration despite understanding it all too well. “Welcome to the glamorous world of logic errors, my friend,” I replied with a knowing grin.
On the other side, Zach, ever the optimist, tried to lighten the mood. “At least you’re not dealing with a rowdy bunch of middle schoolers like me. Trust me, debugging in a quiet room all day sounds like a vacation.” His laughter echoed across the court, prompting smiles from everyone.
Leo grinned. “Zach’s got a point. He’s got the hardest job here.”
“I know I couldn’t do it.” I grinned as I passed the ball back to Leo. My words were casual, but my gaze was anything but, lingering on him a moment too long, studying my best friend with fresh eyes.
Leo was taller than everyone else on the court by a couple of inches, his body solid and sturdy, and my eyes were drawn to his strong arms as they batted away balls with practiced ease. Sweat beaded at his temples, trickling down the side of his face. There was a rhythmic rise and fall of his chest with each deep breath, as I glanced at the wet circles under his armpits on his gray t-shirt and the way his shorts clung to his thick, muscular thighs.
His big hands powerfully gripped the ball, and he exhaled the softest grunts he made each time he passed.
The sounds were raw, primal, stirring something within me, as if I’d never looked at my best friend before as a powerful, sexual man. During one such pass, I was so absorbed in my observations that I fumbled the catch, the ball bouncing off my hands and rolling away.
Leo looked at me, his brow furrowed in concern as he approached. “What’s wrong?”
I shrugged, trying to shake off the strange feeling. “Nothing,” I replied, bending down to pick up the ball.
