I’m early, so I sit in the first booth, a cowardly move that ensures I will see SN before he sees me. My back is to the rest of IHOP and their mountains of pancakes, and I watch the parking lot through the glass double doors. In just fifteen minutes, I will meet SN. He will sit down across from me and introduce himself, and our entire virtual relationship will become something real. Will be brought into the light and into the here and now. Based on something both more and less tangible: spoken words.
Of course, this could be a disaster. Maybe we’ll have nothing to say to each other in person. He’s probably not Ethan. I realize that now as I sit here with sweaty palms and wet armpits. Some things are too much to ask for.
My hair was down and now it’s up, and I think I should put it down again. I spent much of the night debating what to wear.
Dri said: Be casual.
Agnes said: Be fabulous.
I decided in the early hours of the morning that it would be weird to wear anything but my normal clothes, that I don’t want to look like I’m trying too hard.
Scar said: Be yourself.
But now my stupid jeans and T-shirt feel too normal. I should have put on more makeup, done something—anything—to make me feel prettier. What if SN has only seen me from afar and is disappointed when he’s sitting across from me? Am I one of those girls who misleads at a distance?
I sit here, cataloging my flaws, hurting my own feelings. My chin is broken out. My nose is dotted with blackheads. My thighs expand on this plastic seat. No, this is not helping my nerves.
The waitress brings me a cup of coffee and I rip the lids off all the creamers in the bowl, make a pile of wrappers that I knock over and restack. I consider getting up and walking out. I don’t need to meet SN. Let us continue as we are. Keep him as my phantom best friend, albeit one I like to flirt with.
Dri: GOOD LUCK! And if it turns out SN is Liam, then…go for it.
Me: Seriously?
Dri: Yeah. I just have a crush. Whatever you and SN have is real.
Me: I’m scared. I don’t think he’s Liam, though.
Dri: Me neither.
Me: You’re a true friend.
Dri: Don’t you forget that when you and SN are madly in love and don’t have time for anyone else, okay?
Me: Ha!
Dri: Is he there yet?
Me: No.
Dri: Is he there yet?
Me: No.
Dri: Is he there yet?
I’m about to type back No again—I like this game, it’s distracting and kind of funny—but then he is here and my stomach is in my feet. I feel my throat get tight, and tears wet my eyes, and I feel bad that I feel this way. I don’t want to feel this way, but I do. How could I have been so wrong?
It’s Liam.
Okay.
SN is Liam.
I try to recover, make sense of this. At least he’s not Mr. Shackleman or Ken Abernathy. Liam is a good guy, coveted by the most beautiful girl in school. Surely this is a good thing.
He doesn’t see me yet. He’s at the cash register, grabbing one of those free loose mints, the ones that supposedly have high concentrations of fecal matter on them, but I recognize him from behind. Liam.
Liam is Liam is Liam.
He turns around, and his face transforms when he sees me. He smiles, so bright that I wonder what I’ve done to earn his good cheer.
All this time: Liam.
“Fancy seeing you here, stranger,” he says. “Mind if I sit down?”
I am mute. I want to take out my phone and type to SN: Sure. Go ahead. And this: I don’t understand. I resort to a nod. At least I know Dri won’t be mad at me. At least there’s that.
I want to type You are not Ethan. I wanted you to be Ethan.
But I know that’s cruel. Like if he said to me I wanted you to be prettier.
“It’s nice to see you,” Liam says, and folds himself into the booth across from me. He’s graceful today, the way he is onstage: confident and fluid. Human origami.
“Yeah. You too,” I say, and try to smile back. It doesn’t quite reach my eyes.
“This is totally awkward and maybe not the right time for this, but I’ve been meaning to ask if you want to, you know, have dinner with me sometime?” And there it is: Liam is asking me out. For real. In real life. Not SN on the page, but SN in the flesh.
But all I can hear is Ethan’s voice, his words, which were also spoken out loud: I think you should say no.