Natasha Keys was so blessed, according to other people, but she wanted something else besides fame. She was a world famous actress, and also a bikini model for Sports Illustrated, but she didn't need all of that. All she wanted was love. She had met guys at parties she went to, but they were all the same, shallow and only looking at the body. She was tired of all this and actually wanted to meet someone who was serious but also charming. That was why she downloaded the dating app Love Finder.

"Michael, I need my swimsuit, they're shooting pictures in two hours, and I need my makeup, and I need to get dressed," Natasha yelled to her personal assistant. Michael Jones came running into the room, arms full of guitar picks, and a stressed look on his face.

"I'm sorry, Natasha, I've had an incredibly busy day today, but I'll try to keep up on stuff,"

"It's okay," Natasha responded, "but what are you holding?"

"Oh, this," Michael looked down at what he was holding, and then held it up. Guitar picks were strung together with clear string, forming a tiny bikini top, and an even tinier bottom.

"This is getting ridiculous," Natasha sighed, "Whatever, give it to me." Michael left to allow her some privacy to change, and came back later.

When he got back, he saw Natasha and couldn't take his eyes off of her. The too small guitar picks showed off her body in only ways that other women would usually see, and her makeup job was stunning.

"You look amazing," he told her.

"Well, whatever gets some food on my plate," she responded begrudgingly. Then it was time for the photo shoot.

After everything was done, Natasha ate lunch and checked her phone. She had five hundred matches on Love Finder. Maybe using her real name wasn't a good idea. She scrolled through the bios, and looked at each man's picture before deciding on one.

"Would you like to go out for dinner tomorrow?" she asked. Immediately he responded.

"Yes!"

So it was on, and Natasha started getting ready for her first date.

Natasha checked the name card on the café table for the third time.

N. Astaroth.

She sighed. “Dating apps,” she muttered, stirring her tea. “Never again.”

The bell above the café door jingled, and the temperature dropped just enough for her to notice. A man stepped inside wearing a charcoal coat that seemed too formal for a Tuesday night. He was tall, sharply dressed, and—was that a faint smell of smoke?

His eyes found hers immediately.

“Natasha?” he asked politely.

“Yes,” she said, standing. “You must be… Nate?”

He smiled, revealing teeth just a little too perfect. “That is what I go by these days.”

They sat. The waiter came, took their orders, and left quickly, glancing back once as if reconsidering his life choices.

“So,” Natasha began, “how did you get on Love Finder?”

Nate folded his hands. “I helped her summon the devs an incredibly lucrative ad campaign.”

She blinked. “You… helped them what?”

He hesitated, then sighed. “I suppose honesty is best. I am a demon.”

Natasha waited for the punchline.

None came.

“You’re serious,” she said.

“Yes. Lesser lord of contracts, favors, and extremely inconvenient blind dates.”

She leaned back, studying him. “Okay. That’s new. But you’re not… evil-evil, right?”

“Depends on your definition,” Nate said. “I recycle. I tip well. I once cursed a warlord with eternal hiccups.”

She laughed despite herself. “Alright. I’ll allow it.”

As the evening went on, Natasha discovered that demons, at least this one, worried about job security, hated modern paperwork, and was deeply offended by the way movies portrayed hell.

“They always make it fire,” Nate complained. “It’s mostly bureaucracy.”

By the time the check arrived, Natasha realized she hadn’t been nervous in over an hour.

“So,” Nate said carefully, “would you like to do this again? Perhaps somewhere… less holy?”

Natasha smiled, grabbing her coat. “Sure. As long as I can summon the devs and request an update to the T&Cs. A check yes box for supernatural beings.”

He nodded solemnly. “A fair contract.”

As they stepped into the night, Natasha thought that maybe dating apps weren’t so bad.

After all, you never knew who—or what—you might meet.