Not that I’m noticing that last part.
“‘Add Friend’ button,” Jackson says, pointing at the screen with his index finger. “Right there. Big and blue. Can’t miss it.”
“I see it.”
“Then click it.”
“I’m going to.”
“You’re hesitating.”
“I’m mentally preparing.”
“You’re stalling.” Jackson’s hand lands on my shoulder, and the weight of it sends a ripple of calm through my chest. His fingers press into the knot of tension that’s been living between my neck and collarbone since freshman year. “Ryan, buddy. You’ve faced tougher things. You can handle a friend request.”
I don’t need Jackson to tell me that I’m being ridiculous. That a single, solitary button that millions of people click every day is giving me an existential crisis.
I move my cursor over the “Add Friend” button. My finger hovers over the trackpad.
Click!The button changes to “Friend Request Sent.”
I glance out the window and frown. The sky isn’t falling. A hellhole isn’t opening up in the middle of the quad. No dinosaur foot squashing all of us before we have time to run for the hills.
“See?” Jackson squeezes my shoulder again. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”
“It was terrifying,” I admit. “But also…not as difficult as I’d built it up to be.”
“That’s usually how these things go. We make them into these massive, insurmountable obstacles in our heads, and then we actually do them and realize?—”
A notification pops up on my screen.
Oliver Jacoby accepted your friend request.
I make a sound that can only be described as an undignified squeak.
“Holy fucking shit!” Jackson’s reaction is the polar opposite of my stunned silence. He whoops loud enough to startle the entire dormitory. “He accepted! It’s only been thirty seconds!”
“He was online,” I croak out. “He must have been on his phone and—oh God, he saw it immediately. He knows I was thinking about him. He knows I?—”
“He knows you want to be friends again,” Jackson interrupts firmly. “That’s all. And clearly, he wants the same thing, or he wouldn’t have accepted that fast.”
I stare at the screen, at Oliver’s profile now displaying the option to “Message” instead of “Add Friend.” We’re connected now. After two years of avoidance, of countless hasty escapes, we’re officially Facebook friends.
Jackson claps his hands together. “Step one: complete. Step two: the next time Oliver posts something, you like it.”
“Like it?”
“Yeah. Just a little thumbs-up. A tiny digital acknowledgment that you’re paying attention.”
“That sounds…manageable.”
“Because it is. You’re easing back into this friendship thing. No pressure, no expectations, just little breadcrumbs of connection until you’re ready for more.”
I nod slowly, still processing the fact that Oliver Jacoby accepted my friend request in under a minute.
What does that mean? Was he waiting for it? Or was it a coincidence that he happened to be scrolling through Facebook at that exact moment?
BARRACUDAS GROUP CHAT
