Chapter 6
AMY
"He's really cute," Maya agrees, studying the screenshot like it’s a police evidence file. "He reminds me of someone, but I can't quite put my finger on it."
She hands my phone back, and I take it, chewing on the inside of my cheek.
"He is very good-looking." Maybe a little too good-looking, a voice in the back of my mind whispers.
Maya narrows her eyes. "You didn't do the Dwayne Johnson eyebrow thing, did you?"
I purse my lips.
She sighs deeply, shaking her head. "Amy, sweetheart, you know I love you to bits, but I’ve told you before, it doesn’t make you look cool; it makes you look like you’re holding in a fart."
My mouth falls open, mortified. Did I do the eyebrow thing? Oh god, I probably did!
No amount of penis pep talks could recover my shattered dignity after that.
I reach for my mimosa, downing it in one go before wordlessly gesturing to the waiter for a refill.
Bless Maya for choosing a bottomless brunch. At this rate, I’ll be an alcoholic by dinner.
"I—" I shake my head, already exasperated with myself. "Maybe I did. But that’s not the point. Did you even hear what I just said?"
She nods, picking up a strawberry with deliberate slowness, her eyes dancing with amusement.
"Hot nerd love. It’s beyond cute. It’s like watching you fall in love with Bobby March all over again."
"Bobby March?" I repeat, a nostalgic smile tugging at my lips. "From primary school?"
Maya nods, her smirk widening as she pops the strawberry into her mouth. "Who else? The moment he pushed you off the swing and pulled on your pigtail, I knew it was love."
I burst into laughter.
"Oh yes," I reply, rolling my eyes. "That’s totally the same thing."
Before I can steer the conversation back on track, Maya leans in suddenly.
"So… did you do it yet?"
I choke. Actually choke, on air, my mimosa, my entire existence.
I sputter, coughing violently as the liquid makes a disastrous detour up my nose, burning all the way.
Maya cackles as I frantically grab a napkin, dabbing at my face and chest, trying to salvage whatever dignity I have left.
"What?" I manage to wheeze between coughs, my voice strained and borderline panicked. "Did you forget that he's in LA, and I'm here, sitting right in front of you?" I gesture between us, emphasizing the very real, very physical distance that separates me from any potential romantic encounters.
Maya arches an eyebrow, smirking like the devil herself. "Have you ever heard of cybersex? It’s pretty hot."
I choke again.
She laughs, completely unbothered, twirling her mimosa like she’s discussing brunch specials instead of my nonexistent sex life.
"Matt and I had our fair share of fun during his US placement," she continues, her voice dripping with scandalous delight. "Let me tell you, it definitely spices things up when you’re physically apart."
I groan, covering my face with both hands. "I can only imagine," I mutter with pure secondhand embarrassment.
I peek at her between my fingers. "But with Eli, it’s different.
" And maybe that’s part of the problem. I don’t know if I can ever take things to that level.
Not just with him, but with anyone. The idea of intimacy, of letting someone see me completely, is terrifying in ways I don’t even have the words for.
But with Eli, somehow, I feel like I have time. Like I don’t have to rush.
She hums, but there’s a hint of curiosity in her eyes now.
I drop my hands, tracing the rim of my glass. "We share deep conversations, Maya. We connect on an emotional level. It’s not just about physical attraction—though, yeah, that’s there. But there’s something more… profound between us."
I hesitate for a second before continuing.
"I tell him things I don’t tell other people—well, except you." I let out a small breath, gathering my thoughts. "I feel like… because he is, was, a stranger, I could be myself. He got the unfiltered, unsaturated version of Amy. And, contrary to all odds, he still wants more."
I pause, letting my own words sink in, the weight of them settling in my chest.
"And besides, it’s way too early for that."
Maya pouts. "Prude."
"Floozy," I shoot back, smirking.
She gasps dramatically, clutching her chest. "Floozy?" she repeats with mock offense.
Then she shrugs, entirely unbothered. "Well, I proudly wear the title because, you know, it may not be such a bad thing to let loose a little. Life’s too short to always play it safe."
She lifts her left hand, wiggling her ring finger at me, the diamond catching the light. "It got me this."
I glance across the street, watching the steady bustle of people filtering in and out of the bakery. A wistful smile tugs at my lips.
"You know, if this were a classic rom-com moment, I’d glance up and find Eli standing right there, smiling at me like fate orchestrated the whole thing."
The whimsy of the thought is immediate. The kind of ridiculous serendipity that only exists in movies and books, and yet…
I picture it. Eli, standing there in a hoodie and sneakers, spotting me across the street with that crooked smile.
He crosses over, dodging traffic like he’s in a damn rom-com trailer, and stops at my table.
"Told you we’d meet someday," he says, stupidly perfect.
Maya’s snort yanks me back to reality, punctuating my daydream with a healthy dose of cynicism.
"Sweetheart, that sounds more like a plotline from a stalker show on Netflix," she quips, though her teasing is gentle.
Then her expression shifts. "You really like him, don’t you?"
I grimace, my cheeks burning with self-consciousness.
"It does sound foolish, doesn’t it?" I admit with self-deprecation. I exhale, shaking my head. "I’ve only known him for a few weeks. Most of our interactions have been through phone calls or chats. I’ve only seen him on-screen twice, and only for a brief time.
Yet here I am, smitten like a lovesick teenager. "
I give a small, disbelieving laugh, rubbing at my temple as if I can physically wipe away my own ridiculousness.
"I should probably blame my fan fiction writing for this," I confess, offering a wry smile. "It’s like I’ve been living in a world of romanticized imagination for so long that now reality feels… well, a bit inadequate."
Maya reaches out, placing a steady hand over mine.
"Hey now, don’t be so hard on yourself," she reassures me softly. "Feelings don’t always follow a logical timeline. Sometimes, connections happen in ways we don’t expect, and it’s okay to be swept off your feet, even if it feels a little unconventional."
I narrow my eyes, suspicion creeping in. That didn’t sound like her… at all.
She laughs, catching my expression. “I mean that!” she insists, lifting her free hand as if swearing an oath. “Matt started as a dating app dinner date because I was too broke to go out, and I didn’t feel like cooking. And look at us now, we’re married.”
She waves a hand around like her entire love story is nothing more than a happy accident.
“I’ve known you since kindergarten, Amy. And I’ve never seen you this happy or this fulfilled in a relationship.”
I open my mouth to protest, but she cuts me off.
“Who cares if it’s virtual for now? Or even if it stays that way forever?
” She shrugs, but there’s nothing careless about the way she looks at me.
“If you’re happy, I’m happy. And who knows what the future holds?
Maybe you’ll have your ‘classic romantic comedy moment’ after all.
" She smirks, nudging my foot under the table. “You deserve it, you know.”
A lump forms in my throat unexpectedly.
"You're right," I admit, exhaling a breath I didn’t realize I was holding.
And just like that, I let myself sink into my feelings for Eli without questioning them. I forget for a moment everything stacked against us—the distance, my autoimmune disease, my chronic shyness that only seems to disappear when there’s a screen between us.
But I play along, even for a few minutes. I play into this beautiful narrative, and who knows what I’ll end up manifesting in the end?
"Who knows what the future holds? Maybe, in time, our virtual connection will become something real, something tangible. And if it doesn’t, that’s okay too."
I meet Maya’s gaze, a small smile pulling at my lips. "Because right now? I’m happy. And that’s what truly matters."
She nods, conviction lacing her words. “Exactly. You deserve happiness, no matter what form it takes. And as your best friend, I’ll always be here to support you, no matter what.” She pauses, then grins. “I’ll probably tease you mercilessly along the way though.”
I laugh, squeezing her hand. "I’d expect nothing less."
And for the first time in weeks, I let myself believe that maybe, just maybe… this thing with Eli could be something real.
I let the thought grow, while Maya waves down the server for a refill.
“I wouldn’t worry too much about the boy.” She gestures lazily, and I watch as the bubbly gold liquid fills our glasses again.
I’m half a glass away from being sober to tipsy, and the thought makes me giggle.
Last time I was tipsy, it worked out pretty well for me.
I met Eli.
My Eli.
The thought almost sobers me up.
I swirl my drink, my heart picking up speed as I glance at her. “What do you mean?”
Maya leans her chin into her palm like she’s about to drop some life-changing wisdom. “He’s obviously totally into you too.”
My stomach flips.
“Ho—” I clear my throat. “Why do you say that?”
Without hesitation, she snatches my phone and scrolls through our most recent chat, her eyebrows lifting in smug amusement.
"That man spent over an hour helping you fix your Persefia fanfic plot holes…” She looks up with a devious grin. “Sweetheart, the man is thinking with his peepee right now, and he hopes to meet Miss Vajayjay.”
I choke on air.
“You— I— This—” I splutter, completely at a loss for words, my face burning hotter than the sun.
Maya raises her glass in triumph, watching as I give up on coherent thought and down the rest of my drink in one go.
Because honestly?
There is no coming back from that.