Can’t wait.
And he sends me a picture of Baby Yoda all excited.
I smile at the phone. No matter what, this guy is someone fun to talk to. And worst-case scenario, if we find we can’t communicate in real life, we can always grab our phones and message each other instead.
The thing is, anyone can make jokes. But AntD makes jokes that feel like they’re specifically designed for my brain. Andthen, five minutes later, we’re talking about existential dread or childhood disappointments like it’s the most natural transition in the world.
That deeper connection is what gives me the most hope.
The crowd goes nuts around me, and I look up to see Anthony and the rest of the band have returned to the stage.
Even though it’s still only background music, this dude in a sequined tank top nearby is throwing his entire body into moves that definitely aren’t legal in some states, all elbows and enthusiasm.
On impulse, I take a quick video of him and send it to AntD.
NickKnackPaddyWhack
Check out this guy’s moves.
“Sorry about the delay,” Anthony says into the microphone, and the crowd cheers like he’s just said the most inspirational words in the history of humanity.
“It was totally my fault. I was messaging a guy I’m going on a date with tonight.”
Wait, what?
The crowd is going absolutely nuts. Teddie grabs my arm so hard I’m going to have bruises.
Anthony pulls his phone from his pocket and checks it. The big screen shows him giving that lopsided grin. “The guy I was messaging is actually here tonight. And he just sent me a video of what’s going on in the crowd around him.”
My entire body goes cold.
“It’s only fair I send him one back, right? So, everyone, on the count of three, I want you to yell, ‘Hi Nick,’ in your loudest voice.”
My breath rushes out of me.
Did he say Nick? It really sounded like he said my name. Did I just hallucinate? And he said the guy he’s messaging sent him a video? But I just sent… Oh fuck. Oh fuck, fuck, fuck.
“Oh my god, Anthony Devine’s date has the same name as you!” Teddie screeches.
“One, two, three.”
“Hi Nick!” The crowd screams around me as, on stage, Anthony Devine holds up his phone to record it all.
Yeah, this can’t be happening.
My face feels all tingly. Like all the blood has either rushed to or away from it, I can’t tell which.
This is one of those weird coincidences, right? The absolute weirdest.
“Thanks, you guys are awesome.” The big screen shows him typing on his phone.
“I’m just going to send it to him now.”
I’m going to hyperventilate. Or faint. Or spontaneously combust. All seem like reasonable options right now.
My phone buzzes.
Holy shit.
