Page 29 of Sexting My Best Friend's Brothers
“That’s the data, isn’t it?” She opens her eyes, turning her head to look at me. “I went through the user logs. The peak usage times are between 10:00 PM and 2:00 AM. That’s not ‘networking’ time, Asher. That’s ‘I’m awake and I don’t want to be alone’ time.”
I stare at the road. She found it. Ethan looks at the numbers and sees growth metrics. Owen looks at the numbers and sees marketing opportunities. Tessa looked at the numbers and saw the truth.
“We built it for that,” I admit. My voice is low. I rarely talk about this part. “The algorithm matches people based on vulnerability markers. It finds the people who are lonely in the same frequency.”
“Like a radio,” she whispers.
“Yes. Like a radio.”
We drive in silence for a few minutes. Heavy, but not oppressive.
“Why?” she asks suddenly.
“Why what?”
“Why did you build it? You guys are successful, rich, attractive…” She falters on the last word, a faint blush staining her cheeks. “You don’t seem like the types who need help finding people.”
“Connection isn’t about volume,” I say. “It’s about signal-to-noise ratio. You can be surrounded by people and still hear nothing.”
I glance at her. “Like getting ready for a party,” I say. “Surrounded by a pile of discarded clothes, but texting a group chat because you need a real answer.”
She winces. “That was… low.”
“It was a data point.”
“It was a mistake,” she insists. “I was trying to be funny. I was trying to be… not me.”
“Not you?” I frown. “What does that mean?”
“I’m a safer option,” she says bitterly, her eyes fixed on the passing streetlights. “That’s all I am to Ethan. The girl who should’ve stayed in the boring dress and played it safe. And he’s right. I’ve spent years following the rules. I got the degree, took the internship, and even wore the black dresses. And where did it get me? Eating kale salad alone at a desk.”
“You wore the red dress,” I remind her.
“For one night. And look what happened. I humiliated myself.”
“You didn’t humiliate yourself,” I say. I pull up to a red light and turn to face her completely. “You disrupted the system. Systems stagnate without disruption, Tessa. If you had worn the black dress, we wouldn’t be here.”
“Where is here?” she asks breathlessly. “In your car, talking about loneliness?”
“Yes.”
“And that’s a good thing?”
“It’s an optimal thing.” The light turns green. I accelerate. “I don’t like small talk. I like this.”
“This?”
“Truth.”
She goes quiet again. I can feel her watching me. Analyzing me.
“You’re not what I expected,” she says finally. “I always thought you were just... the quiet one. The one who fixed things in the background.”
“I am.”
“No. You’re the one who pays attention.”
The words hit me harder than I expect.
