Teddie’s eyebrows shoot up. “You’re meeting mystery phone guy? The guy who pretends to be Anthony Devine?”
I nod, suddenly very interested in the wood grain of the library table.
“That’s awesome.” They pause, studying my face. “Wait, why do you look like you’re about to throw up?”
Where do I even start to explain how I’m feeling? Is it the fact that I’ve developed actual feelings for someone who could be a forty-five-year-old catfish? That I’ve shared things with him that I haven’t told my real-life friends?
Or is it just the realization that meeting him could either be the best thing that’s ever happened to me or a cautionary tale people will one day use to warn children about internet strangers?
“Um…because I don’t know who he actually is? Like, I’ve been messaging this guy for over a month, and I don’t know his last name. Or what he looks like. Or if anything he’s told me is true.”
“He hasn’t shared photos with you?”
“No. Anytime I ask, he just sends me photos of Anthony Devine, as part of the running gag between us.”
Teddie raises their eyebrows. “Have you considered the possibility that he might actually be Anthony Devine?”
I laugh, probably too loudly for a library. Several people glare at us. “Sure. I’ve considered the possibility that a superstar who could have any guy in the world instead sits on his phone messaging me about how he apologizes to furniture when he bumps into it.”
Teddie shrugs. “Stranger things have happened.”
“Name three stranger things,” I demand.
“Uh…the Roswell landings. Bigfoot. And…uh…the Loch Ness Monster.”
“Aliens and mythical creatures that don’t exist don’t count.”
“Fine.” Teddie leans back in their chair, making it creak ominously. “But seriously, what’s your plan if he shows up and he’s nothing like what you imagined?”
That’s the question that’s been eating at me since I sent that message to AntD suggesting we meet. What if he’s disappointed in me? What if I’m disappointed in him? What if the magic of our conversations doesn’t translate to real life?
“I don’t know,” I admit. “I guess I’ll work it out tonight.”
“You want me to come with you? Like, lurk in the background in case he turns out to be a serial killer?”
“He’s not a serial killer.”
“That’s what everyone says about serial killers. ‘He seemed so normal. He made such good jokes about pretending to be a pop star.’”
Despite my anxiety, I smile. “I’ll be fine. We’re meeting in a café.”
“You’ll have to text me when you meet him. And if he does turn out to be Anthony Devine, I expect front-row tickets to his next show.”
“Deal,” I say, even though the possibility seems about as likely as Figgy Smalls suddenly thriving.
Teddie starts to study like a responsible student while I go back to scrolling through QueerWaystoFallinLove. But I can’t focus on the feel-good meet-cute stories anymore. All I can think about is that in a few hours, I’ll possibly have my own meet-cute.
For better or worse, I’m about to find out who AntD really is.
And he’s about to find out if I’m worth leaving the safety of our digital bubble for.
No pressure or anything.
My phone buzzes with a message. My heart jumps, but it’s just Jade asking if I’m coming home before the concert. I tell her yes, then impulsively open my message thread with AntD.
Our last exchange is still there: him suggesting a café to meet at after the show, me confirming. Such a straightforward interaction with enormous consequences.
I close the ShareYourGlow tab and open my Consumer Psychology textbook. Maybe I should actually study. Take my mind off the fact that in approximately six hours, I’m either going to have the best night of my life or add another chapter to my dating disaster anthology.
