3 viral mistake
I wake up to my phone vibrating like it's trying to escape my nightstand.
For a second, I consider ignoring it. Pretending I'm the kind of person who doesn't check notifications first thing in the morning, who stretches and breathes and starts the day like a well-adjusted human being.
Then it buzzes again.
And again.
And again.
"Okay," I mumble, reaching blindly until my hand lands on it and dragging it closer. "That feels excessive."
The screen lights up with a number that should probably concern me more than it does.
Before I can even process that, another message pops up.
There's a knock on my window immediately after.
I don't question it.
I push myself up, hair falling into my face, and stumble across my room to unlock the window just as Jess pushes it open like she's been waiting for permission her entire life.
"You took too long," she says, climbing in like this is a completely normal way to start the morning.
"It's been thirty seconds."
"It's been ten hours," she corrects, already grabbing my arm and pulling me toward the bed. "Sit down. Mentally prepare yourself."
"That sounds ominous."
"It should."
She drops onto the bed next to me, already opening something on her phone. I don't ask what. I know what.
Still, I hesitate.
"Is it bad?" I ask.
Jess turns her screen toward me. "It's incredible."
That's worse.
I take my phone back, unlock it, and open the first notification I see. The video fills the screen instantly.
It looks... different.
Not like it felt in the moment—quick, impulsive, slightly reckless—but something smoother, almost cinematic. The angle catches everything perfectly: the argument, the crowd leaning in, the exact second I decide to completely ruin my own life.
And then the kiss.
Jess watches my face instead of the screen. "You see it, right?"
"Unfortunately, yes."
"No, like really see it. That's main character energy."
"I don't want main character energy," I mutter, scrolling down.
That's a lie. I just didn't expect to get it like this.
The comments are already out of control.
Jess leans over my shoulder. "Scroll."
"I am scrolling."
"You're not scrolling fast enough."
"I'm overwhelmed."
She sighs dramatically, like this is somehow inconvenient for her, and grabs her own phone again.
"Okay, update," she says. "Your name is trending in our school group chat, people are arguing about whether you planned it, and—oh my God—Josh is losing it."
That gets my attention.
I pause, thumb hovering over my screen. "Define losing it."
Jess's mouth curves in a way that suggests she's enjoying this way too much. "He commented on one of the videos."
"That was a mistake."
"It always is," she agrees. "Do you want to see it?"
I hesitate for half a second, which is enough time for her to take that as a yes and turn her phone toward me.
The comment is short.
I stare at it for a moment, then look away.
"That's it?" I ask.
"You wanted a paragraph?"
"No, I just expected something... more."
Jess tilts her head. "You're disappointed your ex isn't being dramatic?"
"I'm not disappointed," I say, even though something about it feels unfinished, like I was expecting a bigger reaction and got something quieter instead.
Which, for some reason, annoys me more.
Before I can think too much about that, my phone buzzes again.
This time, it's a group chat. Jess must've added me at some point because the name at the top reads.
I huff out a laugh despite myself, leaning back against the headboard.
I pause, rereading that.
Jess makes a small, delighted sound. "Oh, I knew it was bad, but I didn't know it was that bad."
"That's not bad," I say slowly. "That's... widespread."
"That's iconic," Jess corrects.
My stomach does something weird at that.
Jess leans closer. "She has a point."
"I don't like that she has a point."
Something about that settles weirdly in my chest.
Not in a dramatic way, just... noticeable.
Jess watches my expression carefully. "What?"
"Nothing," I say, locking my phone and tossing it onto the bed beside me. "This will die down."
She blinks. "You don't actually believe that."
"I believe people have short attention spans."
"Not when it's entertaining," she replies.
"That wasn't entertaining."
Jess stares at me. "Madi."
"It wasn't."
"Madi."
"Okay, it was a little entertaining."
"A little?" she repeats, laughing. "You're delusional."
I push myself off the bed, running a hand through my hair as I head toward the door. "I'm getting breakfast."
"You're avoiding the situation."
"I'm managing the situation."
"By leaving the room?"
"By getting food," I correct.
Jess follows me anyway, because of course she does.
We make our way downstairs, the familiar creak of the steps and the smell of coffee grounding in a way that nothing else has been since I woke up. My mom's already in the kitchen, flipping something in a pan while Max sits at the counter, scrolling through his phone.
He looks up the second I walk in and grins.
That's not a good sign.
"Well," he says, dragging the word out, "you're popular."
I freeze halfway to the fridge. "You're thirteen. Why are you on the internet this early?"
"Because it's funny," he replies easily.
Jess snorts behind me.
I grab a glass and pour myself some juice, pretending I don't feel the weight of both of their attention.
Mom turns slightly, glancing between us. "What did you do?"
"Nothing," I say.
Max holds up his phone.
The video is already playing.
Jess loses it completely, leaning against the counter as she laughs.
I close my eyes briefly. "It was one time."
"Yeah," Max says. "One time that everyone saw."
I take a sip of my juice, then set the glass down a little harder than necessary. "It's not a big deal."
Three people look at me like I just said something completely unreasonable.
Jess recovers first. "Okay, but hypothetically—if it was a big deal—what would you do?"
I consider that for a moment.
Then I shrug. "I'd probably pretend it wasn't."
Max grins. "Solid plan."
"Thank you."
Jess shakes her head, still smiling. "This is going to get worse before it gets better."
I lean back against the counter, crossing my arms.
"Good," I say.
Because if this is already a disaster, I might as well commit to it.
I don't know what happens next.
I don't know how long this lasts.
And I definitely don't know why a part of me is already curious about what he's going to do.
But I guess I'm about to find out.