I don’t expect a reply right away.
Hell, I half-expect silence. That he’s asleep. Or stunned. Or that I scared him off by being too honest and not nearly cute enough.
But then?—
Everest: Go out with me.
Three little words.
No overthinking. No hesitation. Just… him. Doing the exact thing I was too afraid to do.
I stare at it, a stupid smile crawling across my lips like it owns the place.
Go out with me.
God, that shouldn’t feel this big. But it does.
I type fast, barely stopping to think.
Me: Fine. But no filming. And I don’t want something boring like dinner and a movie. I want adventure.
There’s a pause. The little typing bubble disappears once. Comes back.
Everest: So… laser tag?
I cackle.
I picture him all serious and flushed, ducking behind foam walls with a plastic blaster like he’s inMission: Impossible.
And I love it.
Me: YES. That. Take me to do that.
He sends a GIF of a stormtrooper falling over dramatically, then follows it with the address of a laser tag place not far from me.
Everest: Saturday night?
Me: You bring the strategy, I’ll bring the glitter war paint.
And just like that, it’s real.
We’re doing this. For real. No cameras or persona. Just… us.
Everest: Can I get your number? I mean, unless you want to keep messaging me through the website like some 2008 AOL chatroom vibe.
I laugh again.
Me: Gimme yours. I’ll text you so you know it’s real.
He drops it in one message. I type it in like I’m defusing a bomb, then send a quick:
Me: It’s me. The cotton candy queen. Prepare to lose this weekend.
A second later my phone buzzes back.
Everest: Not a chance, sugar. But I’m ready to destroy you in style.
We don’t stop.
