“I do.” The lie tastes bitter. I paste on my best team leader smile. “Really. It’s nothing.” Because explaining any of what is happening with Gale, dating, it’s too much. They don’t need my mess.
They exchange that look, the one that says they’re not buying it but don’t know how to push harder. Good. I can’t deal with their concern right now, can’t risk them putting the pieces together.
“Just having a case of the Mondays,” I say brightly, already edging toward the exit. Spying on the guy I’m definitely not falling for while he’s on a date with someone else—a date I set up, no less? Yeah, this has “flawless plan” written all over it. What could possibly go wrong? But hey, it’s for science, right? I’ll just be over here, collecting data on my slow descent into madness. Maybe I’ll write a groundbreaking paper: “Machine Learning for Misery: Algorithmic Approaches to Optimizing Third-Wheel Discomfort.” That’ll turn heads at the next conference.
I slink into South Congress Grill feeling like a second-rate spy in a B movie. My “disguise” consists of a pair of oversized sunglasses and a silk scarf tied under my chin like I’m auditioning for a community theater production ofBreakfast at Tiffany’s.
“Except you’re no Audrey Hepburn,” I mutter to myself as I nearly trip over my own feet.
I spot Gale and Jasmine at a corner table in an instant. They look perfect together—him with his chiseled jawline and hockey-honedphysique, her with legs for days and the kind of effortless grace that comes from being fully grounded in your body. I try to squash the little gremlin of jealousy gnawing at my insides.
“Focus, Harriet,” I hiss. I settle at a nearby table, as close as I dare, hiding behind a potted tree and an enormous menu and trying not to look like the spy I am.
As the hour wears on, from the little I can hear, Gale and Jasmine seem to be hitting it off... in the most boring way possible. They swap stories about their cats, compare notes on protein recipes, and dive deep into the thrilling world of sports medicine advancements.
Just as I’m contemplating drowning my sorrows in a giant slice of tiramisu, Gale excuses himself to take a call, leaving Jasmine alone at the table.
I don’t know what possesses me—temporary insanity, maybe, or just a desperate need to stretch my cramping legs—but I find myself walking past their table. Jasmine catches my eye in less than a second.
“Hey,” she says, her voice curious. “Harriet, right? From TrainTech? You’re the one who set us up, and I recognized you from all the photos Gale keeps showing me.” Her smile turns knowing, but there’s a hint of confusion in her brown eyes. “He’s a great guy, you know. Smart, funny, passionate about his career. But... can I ask why you’re lurking? Is this part of the project?”
I gulp, realizing I can’t wiggle out of this one. “Yes, exactly, you’ve got it... it’s part of the E.M.M.A. protocols. I’m here for human verification.”
“Human verification?” Jasmine leans in, intrigued.
I nod, grateful for her interest. “Yeah, it’s a crucial step in AI development. We call it ‘reality alignment testing.’ Basically, we’re ensuring that E.M.M.A.’s perceptions and predictions match up with real-world interactions.”
“And you said all participants have to agree to monitoring, right?” Jasmine asks. “That’s what those forms were about at the beginning? I’ve seen celebrity NDAs before but this was different.”
“Exactly,” I say, relieved she remembers. “Everyone in the study consents to observation. We need to make sure E.M.M.A.’s algorithms for compatibility and relationship dynamics are accurate. It’s all about bridging the gap between AI predictions and human reality.”
Jasmine’s eyes light up. “That’s fascinating! Gale shared a bit about your project—what he could—but I had no idea it was this complex.”
I feel a wave of relief wash over me coupled by guilt—I’m telling the truth and also not. “It is pretty interesting stuff. But I have to admit, I feel a bit ridiculous sitting here in this getup.”
Jasmine chuckles. “I was wondering about the sunglasses-and-scarf combo. Very ‘incognito chic.’”
We share a laugh, and I’m struck by how easy it is to talk to her. Then her expression turns more serious.
“But,” she continues, her voice lowering conspiratorially, “can I level with you? It’s a little uncomfortable being on a date with someone who’s so clearly into someone else.”
My heart twists. Even after the kisses Gale and I shared, after everything, I still can’t silence the doubts. “You don’t understand. Gale... he’s charming and easygoing. And I’m the girl who’s always taking charge, pushing too hard. The one guys call ‘intimidating’ when they’re being nice about it.”
Jasmine’s eyes twinkle. “Come on, girl. The way he talks about you? The little smile he gets when your name comes up? It’s obvious.”
I open my mouth to protest, but nothing comes out. I probably look like a startled goldfish.
“Do yourself—and him—a favor,” Jasmine says gently beforegetting up from the table. “Put the poor guy out of his misery, yeah? Life’s too short for all this dancing around.”
I have to find Gale. He’s sitting on a bench outside the restaurant, his face pale and drawn. The playful spark in his eyes has been extinguished, replaced by a haunted look that makes my stomach drop. Did I upset him popping up like this?
“Hey, I know it’s unexpected that I’m here, but I can explain...” I start.
He looks up at me, his voice barely above a whisper. “It’s my dad. He’s... he’s dying, Harriet. The doctors say he has a month, could be less. It’s strange, I knew this was coming, but to have the moment here at last...” He buries his face in his hands.
My heart clenches. Without thinking, I sit beside him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders.
“I’m so sorry.”
