Harriet shot me a look. ‘Just keep applying and don’t say any more career sabotaging statements. I’ve got make-up remover in my bag, just hang on a minute.’
It only took a few seconds for Harriet to locate her phone, and she shuffled into the corner of the bathroom, pressing a few buttons and sighing heavily when she didn’t immediately get an answer.
‘Okay, he’s useless. What’s the point of having a phone if you don’t bloody check it?’ She regrouped. ‘New plan. Get it all out now, whilst we’re on our own in here. Tell me why the app is full of shit?’ She pinched the bridge of her nose. ‘I cannot believe I just said that to my boss.’
She was right; we were on our own. It was one of those venues with a million different toilets dotted around the place. Plenty of locations for people to duck out of a conversation and spit their oyster into the toilet bowl. Or at least, that’s how I’d interpreted it.
‘The app doesn’t work. It’s just like the rest of them. Shallow people searching for shallow connections.’
Harriet was all but getting into brace position. ‘Is this about you saying you’d date? Because I don’t think anyone will mind if you call it off.’
I showed her the text. ‘Four of my matches, Harriet, were complete duds. And this one was a complete waste of my time too.’
She winced, reading. ‘I’m sorry, Penny. It’s really hard when you like someone and –’
‘This isn’t about me liking him.’ I thought for a moment. ‘Okay, it’s a teeny bit about that. But it’s actually about more than him. It’s proof that Level fundamentally doesn’t work.’
I was trying my best to communicate eloquently, even with the prosecco buzz ringing in my head, but I was sure she was getting the gist.
‘We said we’d create something that went “beyond the surface”, but now that I’ve tested it out, I don’t think that’s even possible. Which makes us just as fraudulent as every other option on the market.’ I hiccupped again. ‘My prosecco consumption doesn’t make this any less true, by the way.’
Harriet was nodding along, anxiously checking the door to the bathroom and double-checking that there wasn’t anyone in the cubicles. ‘I really don’t think you can base your faith in a lifelong project on one bad set of dates.’
‘But that’s the thing, Harriet.’ I went into one of the cubicles and slumped on the closed seat. ‘It wasn’t a bad set of dates. On the surface, Isaac was everything that I would have expected our app to serve to me. I just thought it would be a little bit more accurate. I thought we’d cracked the code for love, and it turns out we haven’t. I don’t even know what love is. How ridiculous, for a permanently single woman to pretend that she ever did.’
‘Oh God.’ She crouched down beside me. ‘This is the alcohol talking.’
I accepted the sip of water that she was offering to me again. ‘Is it? Or did we just spend years creating something that doesn’t work?’
‘Penny.’ Harriet tilted my chin up slightly. ‘Take it from someone who did a lot of dating before she settled down, one bad date does not mean that a dating app doesn’t work. That’s why you give people six matches, right? Not every single one is going to be your soulmate.’
I scrunched my nose in disgust.
‘Sorry, but it’s true. Not every match is going to work, but it gives you a better shot than any of those other apps do, that’s for sure.’
Her phone started ringing, and I took that as permission to leave the loo.
Yes, she was probably right. But it wasn’t just one bad date. It was the two first dates before that, and the mind-numbing conversations with my first two matches at the very beginning. We’d laboured over the app’s programming. Spent hours and hours figuring out how to calculate one member’s compatibility with another, considering factors like their location and time most active (because it said a lot about people’s schedules and availability for a relationship, what time of day they were on their phone). Level was supposed to be a breath of fresh air – it was not supposed to leave you feeling so lonely.
‘Hang on, Rory, one second.’ Harriet put one hand over her phone, gritting her teeth. ‘Where are you going now? Wait, Penny – stay still!’
I pushed on the bathroom door, so enraged with everything work-related that I didn’t watch where I was going, colliding headfirst with someone’s chest.
‘Oof.’ I bounced back, making eye contact with an extremely attractive man. The fizz in my veins crackled. Oh, hello.
17
Given that I was five foot six and wearing heels, it wasn’t often that I bumped into someone’s chest. A someone that was extremely, extremely attractive.
‘Where are you going in such a hurry?’ The mystery man steadied me, keeping a hand on my arm. His voice was deep and his accent was far from Rory’s Geordie or Isaac’s Mancunian; I would have guessed West London. He looked a bit like a Disney character, his blonde hair artistically wavy and his suit jacket clinging to his arms. And yes, Level was designed to be less shallow, but I was mad at it, so I’d decided that for one night only, I was not going to follow its lead.
‘Nowhere important.’ I smiled up at him, trying to think clearly. Had I checked for lipstick in my teeth? It was going to be a miracle if I didn’t have Charlotte Tilbury’s K.I.S.S.I.N.G all over my face.
He ran his hands through his thick blonde hair. ‘One look at you and I’m thinking I need to get a drink and play catch-up.’
I crossed my arms. ‘What are you trying to say?’
‘That you’ve clearly got the right idea, making the most of the free bar.’ He leaned in conspiratorially. ‘Can I tell you a secret?’
I could smell the mint on his breath, and the slightly musky, fresh scent of his aftershave. Scent was the easiest way to fancy someone. We’d done our research in the early days, bitter that technology hadn’t yet advanced enough to transfer scent through a screen.
He was looking at me intensely, waiting for my permission.
‘Yes, you can.’
He relaxed. ‘I hate these things. They make me want to scream. If anyone else comes up to me pretending to care about what I do for fun when all they really want to do is talk business, I’m walking out.’
He grabbed us both another glass, which I gratefully accepted. I’d now gone fully rogue. Talking to strange men was the final nail in the coffin.
‘Agreed. I’ll go with you.’ I paused, horrified. ‘Not like that.’
‘No?’ His eyebrow was raised, a challenge, and the alcohol had emboldened me.
‘Well, maybe if you play your cards right.’
Who was I to turn down the initial advances of a Prince Charming lookalike? Especially now that my dating app had proved to be so fundamentally flawed. Maybe dating apps were out, and organic meet-cutes were in. Either way, I wasn’t looking a gift horse in the mouth.
‘I’m Daniel.’ He held out his hand for me to shake, and when I took it he pulled me in, gently resting his hand on my lower back. I usually hated dominance, but I was three glasses of prosecco past caring. Someone needed to take control of the situation.
