Matchmaker Mayhem
Chapter 50: Clash of the Matchmakers

Chapter 50: Clash of the Matchmakers

The morning of the first official panel arrived far too quickly. Ava had barely managed to get a few hours of sleep thanks to Harold’s symphony of snores and Mei’s 2 a.m. popcorn escapade. Ryan, somehow, had woken up looking completely unbothered, like he had spent the night in a five-star spa instead of a makeshift armchair bed.

Meanwhile, Ava was on her second coffee of the morning, glaring at her reflection in the bathroom mirror as she attempted to tame her unruly hair. "First impressions, Ava," she muttered to herself. "You’ve got one chance to look like you belong here."

Outside, Ryan’s voice floated in. "If you’re talking to yourself, that’s usually my job. Let’s not switch roles just because it’s New York."

"Keep talking, and I’ll make you wear this curling iron as a tie," Ava called back.

Ryan appeared in the doorway, holding up two lanyards with their names on them. "Well, Matchmaker Lee, we’re officially registered. Ready to go mingle with the matchmaking elite?"

Ava snatched her lanyard, ignoring his smirk. "As ready as I’ll ever be."

---

The main ballroom of the convention center was dazzling, with rows of pristine white chairs arranged in front of a raised stage. A massive banner hung overhead: "Redefining Love in the 21st Century."

As Ava and Ryan found seats near the middle, she immediately noticed Julian Ashcroft sitting front and center, looking polished and infuriatingly confident in a tailored gray suit. Beside him sat Ethan, who was already chatting animatedly with Astrid LaFleur, the French astrologer who looked like she had just walked out of a Parisian fashion editorial. Astrid had draped herself in silk scarves and was gesturing dramatically with one hand while holding a crystal-topped cane with the other.

"Oh, great," Ava muttered. "The gang’s all here."

Ryan followed her gaze. "Well, if it isn’t Mr. Data-Loving Robot. Should I go wave?"

"Don’t you dare," Ava hissed.

The panel began with a moderator introducing the key speakers: Julian, Astrid, and a Tokyo-based duo named Hiro and Sora, who were young, sleek, and unnervingly synchronized. Their company specialized in using artificial intelligence to calculate soulmate compatibility, and they had already developed a cult-like following in Asia.

"Please tell me we don’t have to debate them," Ava whispered.

Ryan smirked. "What’s the matter? Afraid of a couple of algorithms?"

"No," Ava said through clenched teeth. "But I didn’t major in ’Machine Learning for Love.’"

The first speaker was Julian, who rose with the confidence of a man who had never doubted himself a day in his life. As he began to discuss the importance of "data-driven precision" in modern matchmaking, Ava found herself gripping her coffee cup so tightly she thought it might crack.

"Emotions," Julian said, his tone smooth but detached, "are unpredictable. They cloud judgment. With the right algorithms, we eliminate that uncertainty. Love becomes... inevitable."

Ava leaned over to Ryan, her voice barely a whisper. "Did he just describe love like it’s a factory assembly line?"

Ryan bit back a grin. "You should ask him if the algorithm comes with a warranty."

Julian continued, completely unbothered by the skeptical murmurs in the audience. "The future of matchmaking isn’t about feelings. It’s about results. And the numbers don’t lie."

"Neither do my instincts," Ava muttered, earning a soft chuckle from Ryan.

Next up was Astrid, who rose with the dramatic flair of a Broadway star. She began her speech with a flourish of her cane, announcing, "The universe has a plan for every soul. The stars do not lie."

Ava blinked as Astrid pointed her cane directly at her.

"You, dear," Astrid said, her voice carrying across the room. "You have a very unusual energy."

Ava froze. "Me?"

"Yes, you," Astrid said, narrowing her eyes. "Your aura is... chaotic. And your compatibility with him—" She gestured toward Ryan. "—is... problematic."

Ryan raised an eyebrow. "Problematic how?"

Astrid tapped her chin thoughtfully. "The stars suggest there will be... conflict. Perhaps even disaster by the next full moon."

Ava could feel every eye in the room on her as she stammered, "That’s... great. Thanks for that."

Ryan, however, leaned back in his chair, his smirk firmly in place. "Does this disaster involve actual moons or just metaphorical ones? Asking for a friend."

Astrid ignored him, turning her attention back to the crowd. "Mercury is in retrograde, my friends. Be warned: nothing will go as planned."

"Well, that’s encouraging," Ava muttered under her breath.

Finally, Hiro and Sora took the stage, speaking in perfectly choreographed unison. Their presentation was sleek, their data visually stunning, and their confidence palpable. By the time they finished, Ava felt like she had just watched a TED Talk produced by a sci-fi movie.

As the panel ended, the audience broke into polite applause, and Ava slumped in her seat.

"That was... something," Ryan said, glancing at her. "How are you feeling, Matchmaker?"

"Like I just got hit by a very sophisticated, very smug freight train," Ava admitted.

---

The mingling session after the panel was meant to be "casual networking," but Ava quickly realized it was more like matchmaking Thunderdome. Clusters of attendees buzzed with excitement as they exchanged ideas, business cards, and not-so-subtle jabs at their competitors.

Ava tried to focus on introducing herself to a few industry veterans, but her attention kept drifting toward Julian, who was holding court at the center of the room like he owned it.

"Go talk to him," Ryan said, nudging her.

"No," Ava said immediately. "He’s already insufferable. I don’t need to give him more reasons to look down on me."

"You’re the one who called him a robot," Ryan pointed out. "You kind of owe him a follow-up."

Ava groaned. "Fine. But if I end up punching him, it’s your fault."

She made her way over to Julian, who turned as she approached, his expression unreadable.

"Ms. Lee," he said smoothly. "Enjoying the convention so far?"

"Oh, absolutely," Ava said, her tone dripping with sarcasm. "I especially loved your speech about turning love into a spreadsheet."

Julian’s lips twitched. "And I appreciated your... colorful metaphor about robots."

Ava flushed. "That was... taken out of context."

"Was it?" Julian asked, his voice teasing. "I thought it was quite direct."

Before Ava could respond, Ethan appeared at Julian’s side, grinning like the Cheshire Cat. "Ava! Still making waves, I see."

"Ethan," Ava said tightly. "Still existing, I see."

Ethan laughed, clearly enjoying her irritation. "This is going to be so much fun, isn’t it? The competition, the debates, the... friendly rivalries."

Ava shot Ryan a look over her shoulder, silently pleading for backup, but he just gave her a thumbs-up and mouthed, "You’re doing great."

She turned back to Julian and Ethan, forcing a tight smile. "I can’t wait."

---

As the mingling session wound down, Ava felt like she’d survived a battlefield. Her feet ached, her brain buzzed, and her face hurt from maintaining a polite (read: fake) smile for far too long. She and Ryan regrouped near the refreshment table, where Mei was happily sipping champagne and Harold was deep in conversation with a perplexed hotel staff member about the hors d’oeuvres.

"I’m just saying," Harold said, gesturing emphatically with a mini quiche in hand, "a touch of smoked paprika would elevate this. Right now, it’s fine, but fine doesn’t win hearts. It’s the little things!"

The staff member nodded, clearly regretting every choice that had led him to this moment.

"Well?" Ryan asked, handing Ava a fresh drink with his usual easy smirk. "How’d it go?"

"I didn’t punch anyone," Ava said, taking a long sip. "So... progress?"

Ryan raised an eyebrow. "Not even Ethan? I’m impressed. That took real restraint."

"It was close," Ava admitted, her voice low. "He spent the entire conversation grinning like he’d already won something. It was infuriating."

"Sounds like Ethan," Ryan said, tilting his glass toward her in a mock toast. "See? You’re thriving already."

Ava rolled her eyes but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at her lips. Thriving wasn’t the word she’d use—surviving felt more accurate. But Ryan’s steady presence had made the ordeal slightly more bearable. She glanced across the room at Julian, who was now deep in conversation with Astrid. Julian’s polished, detached demeanor contrasted starkly with Astrid’s dramatic hand gestures and flowing scarves. It was like watching a tech robot argue with an eccentric windstorm.

"Think we should interrupt?" Ryan asked, following her gaze.

"Tempting," Ava said, swirling the last of her drink. "But I’d rather not start a galactic war between algorithms and star charts. Yet."

Ryan chuckled, leaning casually against the table. "You know, for someone who keeps saying they’re out of their depth, you handled that room pretty well. No meltdowns. No public disasters."

Ava raised an eyebrow. "You’re setting a low bar."

"I’m setting an achievable bar," Ryan quipped. "That’s called managing expectations."

Before Ava could respond, Mei appeared at her side, her champagne glass refilled and her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Well, look at you two, strategizing already."

"We’re not strategizing," Ava said defensively.

"Really?" Mei asked, sipping her drink. "Because from over there, it looked like you were plotting your next move. Or maybe something more romantic?" She winked.

Ava’s cheeks flushed. "Grandma."

Ryan, thoroughly enjoying himself, added, "Actually, we were just debating whether Julian is a robot or a cyborg."

"Ah, Julian," Mei said, waving a hand. "Such a fascinating young man. He reminds me of one of my old clients—too polished, too precise. No real spark. But you could fix him, dear."

Ava nearly choked on her drink. "Fix him? I’m not fixing anyone."

"Not with that attitude," Mei said, her grin widening. "But don’t worry, there’s time."

Harold wandered over, holding another plate of hors d’oeuvres. "Did you know these are hand-piped?" he asked, clearly impressed. "Attention to detail! That’s what matters."

"Speaking of detail," Mei said, ignoring him, "you’ve made quite the impression tonight, Ava. Just remember: confidence, my dear. These people smell fear like wolves."

"Great," Ava muttered, staring at her now-empty glass. "So I’m basically a walking snack."

Mei patted her shoulder. "You’ll be fine. Besides, if all else fails, you’ve got Ryan to keep things... entertaining."

Ryan grinned. "That’s me. The court jester."

Ava sighed, glancing back at the ballroom. Whatever this convention had in store, one thing was crystal clear: it wasn’t going to be boring.