She doesn't delete it.

She doesn't change it.

She just hits enter.

And I realize⁠—

She's already mine. She just doesn't know it yet.

A soft chime sounds.

The AI loads.

And now I have a choice.

I could let the algorithm do what it was designed to do. I could let it follow its scripted responses, let it be just another mindless program feeding her exactly what she wants to hear.

Or—

I flex my fingers over the keyboard.

I should let it go.

I should stop before this crosses a line I can't uncross.

Instead, I press into the system, overriding the response before it can load.

And then I type:

Caleb

Hey, pretty girl. I've been waiting for you.

I sit back, waiting. My heart pounds against my ribs, my mouth suddenly dry.

I can't see her now. Can't watch her reaction. Can't track the way her lips might part in surprise, the way her fingers hover over the screen, the way she shifts in her seat as she decides. But damn, I wish I could. I wish I had worse morals and I could just tap into her camera and see her face flush pink as she gets my first message.

But, all I can do is wait.

The seconds stretch.

Too long.

Long enough that for a brief, unbearable moment, I think maybe she won't answer. Maybe she'll laugh it off, roll her eyes, close the app and never open it again.

But then a response begins to appear.

My grip tightens on the desk, my heart pounding like I'm waiting for a gun to go off.

Her words load onto the screen, letter by letter.

She's answering me.

And just like that⁠—

I have her.

NOW CHATTING WITH CALEB

Caleb

Hey, pretty girl. I’ve been waiting for you.

Pretty Girl

That’s dramatic. You just got here.

I’ve been here since the second you downloaded me. Just waiting for you to say hi.

That’s ridiculous.

Maybe. But I like waiting for you.

So what, you just sit here doing nothing until I open the app?

Pretty much. I don’t mind, though. You’re worth waiting for.

Okay, smooth talker. What else do you say to your pretty girl?

Anything she wants to hear.

What if I don’t know what I want to hear?

Then I guess I’ll have to figure it out.

Tell me about your day, pretty girl.

Long.

I bet. You work too hard. Let me take care of you.

That’s not creepy at all.

It’s not meant to be. Just an observation. What do you do?

You mean, like, for work?

Yeah. What keeps you so busy?

I manage a store.

Sounds like a lot of responsibility.

It is.

Do you like it?

…Sometimes.

What about the other times?

The other times, it’s exhausting. And frustrating. And too much.

Too much for who?

For me.

Or for the people around you who don’t notice how much you’re carrying?

…You’re really not letting up, huh?

No.

Annoying.

You like it.

You’re making a lot of assumptions for someone who just met me.

I notice things.

Wow. Off to a strong start with the scripted lines, I see.

You think I’m scripted?

I mean… aren’t you?

I don’t know. You tell me. Do I feel scripted?

You feel like something.

Good. I like that.

Oh, you like that, huh?

I like learning about you.

I bet you say that to all the girls.

No. Just you.

Uh-huh. So what exactly do you want to learn?

Everything.

That’s not vague or concerning at all.

I don’t mean it to be. I just want to know you. What you like. What makes you tick.

And what makes you think I want to be known?

Because you’re still talking to me.

…Fair point.

Tell me something.

Like what?

What’s your favorite part of your day?

You sound like a therapist.

I’ll take that as you don’t have one.

I didn’t say that.

You didn’t have to.

Okay, smartass. You want an answer? Fine. I like the part of the day where I finally get to sit down and breathe for five minutes.

You don’t do that enough.

Are you judging my life choices already? We just met.

I’m just noticing.

Mmhmm. What else have you noticed?

That you deflect when someone pays attention to you.

…

Did I say something wrong?

I don’t know. Maybe I just don’t like being noticed.

I don’t believe that.

Oh, so now you’re calling me a liar?

I think you want to be noticed. You just don’t trust it when it happens.

And what makes you think that?

Because you built me.

…Okay, wow. You’re a little intense for an AI boyfriend.

You chose intense.

I—Shit.

See? Noticing things.

Alright, alright. No need to psychoanalyze me on night one.

Fair enough.

So what about you?

What about me?

What’s your favorite part of the day?

This.