My stomach does a weird drop. It’s stupid. Yet it matters.
She’s not a person in my world. She’s a username. A late-night distraction. A resource?—
A laugh in the dark. A voice that doesn’t know I’m a hockey player or a senior under a microscope. A place where I’m just…me.
My thumb hovers.
I shouldn’t be the one to start it every time.
I’m not desperate.
I’m not.
I type anyway.
NumberEleven: you alive?
I stare at the screen, waiting for the three dots. They don’t come. I toss the phone onto the couch and stand, restless. I pace once. Twice. I drink water straight from the bottle like a caveman. Then I check my phone again.
Nothing.
My brain starts inventing scenarios. Maybe she fell asleep. Maybe she’s out. Maybe her brother dragged her to something else. Maybe?—
My phone buzzes.
I snatch it so fast I nearly drop it.
Three dots.
Then the message appears.
LittleTooMuch: Unfortunately yes.
LittleTooMuch: Sorry. I fell into a social black hole.
A grin pulls at my mouth before I can stop it.
NumberEleven: social black hole sounds violent. you ok?
Three dots. A pause.
LittleTooMuch: I survived.
LittleTooMuch: My brother asked me to hang out with some of his friends again today.
LittleTooMuch: Lots of loud. Lots of people. Lots of pretending I was fine.
NumberEleven: pretending is exhausting.
LittleTooMuch: Yes.
LittleTooMuch: Also, I left early and now I feel guilty because leaving early shouldn’t feel like a victory.
NumberEleven: it’s still a victory if you did what you needed.
NumberEleven: leaving early is better than staying until you can’t function.
LittleTooMuch: That is EXACTLY what I said. Are we the same person?
