Still, that was before SN was Liam and Liam was SN. That was before the last ten seconds, when everything changed. And what if this is what’s real—me and Liam, not me and Ethan? Maybe, again, I’ve had it all wrong. So what that it’s sometimes awkward at the store, that I don’t feel like Liam and I have much to say to each other? So what that he dated someone like Gem? People make bad decisions all the time.
“I—” I take a sip of my coffee, look deep into the cup, push down the terror that is rising inside me, the desire to flee this booth. I need the extra time that my phone affords me. Even just a few seconds to organize my thoughts. I try to picture what I would type right now. Typing would make this easier. Using thumbs instead of my mouth. Yes, I’d write. Or maybe Sure. Or Cool. Or…
But before I can figure out what to say, I feel a shadow fall over our table. My first instinct is that Gem is here and she’s going to punch me, and that’s how all this will end. Me knocked out on the floor. Which is ridiculous, because it’s not Gem. And punching is not her style. She’s subtler than that.
It’s Ethan.
Ethan is Ethan is Ethan.
Ethan’s here too, and now I’m confused and I don’t know what to do. He sees Liam sitting across from me, and his face darkens and then goes blank. I want to see his smile, hear him say those six words one more time: I think you should say no.
Surely that will help me make sense of all of this. That will give me a good reason to walk away from SN, walk away from “three things” and delicious midnight conversations and everything that has kept me going for the last few months.
SN is Liam. Liam is SN. A simple equation. Remedial math. Time to accept it.
“Hey,” Ethan says, and there is pleading in his eyes. He’s saying those six words without saying those six words. And so I don’t answer Liam—not yet, anyway—and I turn to Ethan. Buy time another way.
“Hey,” I say. Then I’m sure I have this all wrong, that I’m actually dreaming, because all of a sudden Caleb is here too, right behind Ethan, and of course all three of them would be here for the great SN unveiling. This is a dream. It has to be, because the three of them can’t be SN, and I’ve had dreams like this before, when they’re all there—Liam, Ethan, Caleb—morphing into each other, swapping shirts.
But no, Caleb is in gray. Ethan is the Batman. And Liam is wearing a button-down, because unlike his friends, he rotates his wardrobe. One point for Liam there.
If this is a dream, next they will break out into song. Serenade me with “The Girl No One Knows.”
No one is singing.
This is not a dream.
I dig my fingernails into my palms, just to be sure. It hurts.
“Howdy,” Caleb says, and looks from Liam to me and back to Liam and smiles, as if to say Go for it, dude. Do he and Ethan both know that SN is Liam, and they’re here to see what happens? Or maybe they’re all in on it, have shared the SN password and taken turns writing to me. Has this whole thing been one big joke? Is that the lie? There are three of them?
I flash back to my dad’s offer to take us home to Chicago, wonder if that’s where this is all headed. Me, on a plane, humiliated and heartbroken.
“Wait,” Ethan says, and takes a step forward and then one backward. It’s an awkward dance, and his face reddens. “You’re early.”
“Dude, we’re in the middle of something here,” Liam says, and looks at me again, as if to re-ask his question. Right. Dinner. If I weren’t so disappointed, it would be cute, SN starting our first conversation by asking me out on a proper date.
“Liam,” Ethan says, and puts his hand on Liam’s shoulder. Liam shakes it off angrily. I am so stupid. It’s obvious these two have a problem with each other. There was drama there for a while, Dri said once. Liam replaced Ethan’s brother in the band.
I think you should say no.
I’ve taken it all the wrong way: those six words had nothing to do with Ethan wanting me. He just hates Liam. The realization is crushing.
“Why are you always throwing shade?” Liam stands up to face Ethan. Months, perhaps years, of pent-up aggression are spewing forth, and I’m unfortunate enough to get caught in the middle.
Liam’s hands are curled into fists, as if he is ready to throw punches right in the middle of IHOP, which is of course a dumb place to fight. There are children here, and polyester booths and smiley-face pancakes. Multiple kinds of syrup. Some of the drinks even come with maraschino cherries.
Caleb steps between Liam and Ethan, and Ethan puts his hands in the air. He has no interest in swinging or being swung at. Maybe he has no interest in me.
“You’ve got it all wrong, man. It’s not like that,” Ethan says, puts his hands down and into his pocket. He pulls out his phone. “Just give me one second.”
Ethan’s eyes are on me, not on Liam, and he’s talking to me without talking to me. I don’t know what he’s saying. I just know I want to keep staring at him. Again, everything is too fast for me to understand, and also too slow, because I can hear the thump of my heart and the blood rushing in my ears, can feel the warmth of the coffee cup in my trembling hands.
My phone beeps. I have a message. I look down. I pick it up.
SN: it’s me.
I look up again. Ethan is smiling nervously at me. He’s typing without looking.
SN: me. not him. me.
SN: let me say this in caps: ME.