The Right Swipe (Modern Love, #1)(12)

He smiled and waved as the crowd chuckled and clapped.

“And, over here, we have Rhiannon Hunter.”

Samson raised an eyebrow as the audience erupted into cheers. There was no doubt who everyone was here to see.

Rhiannon took another drink of water while Helena indulgently waited for the noise to die down. “Rhiannon is the creator of Crush. Built on that familiar swiping platform, it’s often called the more empowered response to app dating, where users have more control in curating who they see and how they communicate with their matches. The customizability of the app seems to appeal to a lot of people. Crush currently has about twenty-six million subscribers.”

Rhiannon crossed her legs. Her sneakers were a matte gold, a pop of color in her otherwise somber outfit. “It’s closer to thirty million.”

Helena chuckled. “Okay, thirty million.”

Thirty million was a lot more than Matchmaker’s eight million. Samson worried anew for Annabelle. Matchmaker had an app, but only due to Jennifer’s insistence. Annabelle had fought her every step in migrating their platform or altering their time-consuming sign-up process.

Matchmaker was behind, and Jennifer had leaned into being the “old-fashioned” option, but Samson really hoped their lag didn’t eventually tank the company. His aunt had had a rough year, what with losing Jennifer and Joe, and she didn’t need any more loss.

Helena waited for the applause to die down, and then turned to Samson. “I think we can all agree that the internet has made dating so different now. Samson, why don’t you explain what makes Matchmaker the place to be?”

Samson launched into his memorized talking points. “For anyone who’s taken Matchmaker’s questionnaire, you know how in-depth it gets, how long it takes. Now, some people may say that that’s a negative, that time-intensive process, but I think anything that forces us to slow down and think about ourselves and what we’re looking for is a good thing. Life is too fast paced. Your relationships shouldn’t be.”

Helena tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Do you think apps are too fast paced for anyone to make a solid connection?”

“I wouldn’t say that. Clearly people do make connections.” He tried to tread carefully. He didn’t want to attack Crush. This was a friendly panel, and the crowd was already here for Rhiannon.

Also, Rhiannon might murder him. “When you’re on a phone and you’re swiping, you’re spending a second? A fraction of a second? On each person. That’s not enough time to get to know them. That’s more of a game than anything.”

“Have you ever used a dating app, Samson?” Rhiannon interjected.

That felt like a trap. He answered honestly. “Only once, for a short period of time. I deleted it almost immediately.”

“Is that how long you spent on each person?”

“No, but I think I’m an outlier.” He’d scrutinized Rhiannon’s—Claire’s—single photo for a while and read her short profile ten times before swiping right. He had it memorized.

Looking for Mr. Right Now, not Mr. Right. Swipe right if you’re down for a night of fun and you’re not going to be a dick about protection or pleasure.

If he hadn’t been staring at her, he would have missed the twitch at the corner of her mouth. “Well, even if some people view it as a game, and you can’t deny that there are those who see any kind of dating as a game, this”—she made a swiping motion—“disrupted how we connect online. Fifty years ago, your potential mate was in a bar or a grocery store. Twenty years ago, your potential mate was on their computer. Today, this is where your potential mate is, on their phone, on their app, swiping for you. Maybe there are slower-paced ways to evaluate someone, but this is where you’ll get the largest pool to choose from.”

All that made sense, but he couldn’t let her paint Matchmaker as a relic from decades ago. “It should be about quality, not quantity.”

Rhiannon’s teeth flashed, and she snapped the trap, looking out at the darkened audience. “How many quality people here are on or have been on Crush?”

The audience cheered. Mentally, Samson cracked his knuckles. Oh, she was wily. No blood, but she’d handily cemented the crowd’s affection.

He would too.

Helena stepped in, perhaps sensing a need for moderation. “Crush does have a small quiz before you sign up. That’s different from other apps.”

“Yes. It’s not a hundred points.” The twist of Rhiannon’s mouth made it clear what she thought about Matchmaker’s system. “We ask simple questions, and most are optional: Do you have kids, want kids? Are you a smoker? How much do you drink? What’s your political party? And then we have one required question: Are you looking for a platonic relationship, a romantic one, or a hookup?”

“Interesting that that’s your required question.”

“Our mission at Crush is to disrupt how you swipe. We’re built on the principles of accountability, kindness, choice, and empowerment. We’ve found that this question encourages users to be honest about their intentions, and it helps curate who we match you with based on what answer you provide.”

Samson thought back to when he’d signed up for Crush. He’d selected hookup and felt vaguely guilty doing it.

“You don’t have to feel bad about what you pick.” There was Rhiannon, reading his mind. “You can be honest.”