I walked to the door like a woman approaching her own execution. Looked through the peephole.
And there, standing on my porch in the late-October morning light, was Jimmy Kowalski.
Eighteen years old. Frosted tips. Powder-blue polo with the collar popped. Holding a corsage—white roses, baby’s breath, exactly like the one he’d brought me to prom.
He smiled at the door like he could see me through it.
“Diane? I know you’re in there. I got your message!”
I did not open the door. I pressed my back against it and slid down to the floor, heart hammering.
“Diane?” His voice was exactly the same. Sweet. Eager. The voice of a boy who thought he had his whole life ahead of him because, for him, he did. “Come on, don’t leave me hanging. My mom’s gonna kill me if I’m late for curfew.”
Curfew. He had acurfew.
Tequila padded over and sat next to me, tail curled around his paws.
So. That’s new.
“That’s my prom date. From 1996.”
He seems… young.
“He IS young. He’s eighteen. He’s—” I pressed my palms against my eyes. “This is a hallucination. I’m having a stress-induced breakdown. I work too many hours and I drink too much wine and now I’m seeing teenage boys on my porch.”
That sounds like something you should not say out loud.
“Di? You okay in there?”
“GO AWAY.”
A pause. Then, sounding genuinely hurt: “I thought you’d be happy to see me. You’re the one who matched with me.”
“I didn’t match with ANYONE. The app is POSSESSED.”
“What’s an app?”
Oh god. Oh god oh god oh god.
I scrambled for my phone, which was now sitting at 412 matches and showing no signs of slowing down. Found Cassie’s number. Hit call.
She answered on the second ring, sounding groggy. “Di? What’s wrong? It’s not even seven.”
“GET OVER HERE. NOW.”
“What happened? Are you okay?”
“MY PROM DATE IS ON MY PORCH.”
Silence. Then, more alert: “…Todd?”
“Not TODD. Why does everyone think Todd was my prom date? Todd didn’t even go to my high school. JIMMY. Jimmy Kowalski. From 1996.”
“Di, that doesn’t make any?—”
“HE THINKS IT’S PROM NIGHT, CASSIE. HE BROUGHT A CORSAGE. HE’S WORRIED ABOUT HIS CURFEW.”
A longer silence. I could hear Liam’s voice in the background, asking what was wrong. His Scottish accent was thicker when he was half-asleep, which under other circumstances might have been charming.
