Chapter 5
CHAPTER FIVE
NICK
All right, all right, it’s official.
I’m addicted to messaging AntD.
It’s not my fault he’s more interesting than literally everyone else I’ve ever messaged.
I can never predict which direction our conversation will go.
We’ll start off talking about which streaming service has the least annoying ads, and six hours later, we’ll be in a full-on heated debate about which pasta shapes would be most aerodynamic if thrown—penne.
Obviously penne. He’s wrong about farfalle.
But amongst all the random subjects, we also talk about deeper stuff. Like, whether there is actually life after death. Whether we’re all just performing different versions of ourselves for different people. Whether anyone ever gets to see the complete picture, or if maybe there isn’t one.
Today I’ve got a break between classes, and I’m hanging out at the overpriced coffee place on MacDougal that accepts meal swipes, doing what I do best. Ignoring the assignment I should be doing and messaging AntD.
NickKnackPaddyWhack
Emergency: the coffee shop I’m at is out of oat milk. This is not a drill.
AntD
Devastating. Thoughts and prayers
NickKnackPaddyWhack
How am I supposed to be a proper Gen Z without my oat milk latte?
AntD
You’ll have to settle for regular milk like a peasant from 2015
NickKnackPaddyWhack
Speaking of peasants, a guy just walked past wearing a monocle. Unironically.
AntD
NYC really is a magical place
NickKnackPaddyWhack
Right? Where else would I see a monocle in the wild?
Anyway, what’s going on with you?
AntD
Nothing too different from the usual. Although I met this guy today.
My stomach hollows. Which is ridiculous, I know. I don’t have any claim over this random guy who messages me pretending to be a pop star. We’re not dating. We’re not anything. He could be meeting guys every day for all I know.
NickKnackPaddyWhack
Good for you.
Wow. That came out slightly more passive-aggressive than I intended.
AntD
It was funny because he thought he had a crush on me, but actually, it was obvious he was in love with his roommate.
NickKnackPaddyWhack
How could you tell?
AntD
Because he wouldn’t stop talking about him.
My stomach does a small flip.
Oh no.
Jade commented last night that all I want to talk about is my text conversations with AntD. That maybe I should, you know, consider getting a life. Or at least realize that other people didn’t find messages about which Trader Joe’s snacks would survive a zombie apocalypse as funny as I did.
But just because I talk about AntD all the time doesn’t mean anything, right? I mean, it’s not possible to actually develop serious feelings for someone you’ve never met, is it?
Asking for a friend.
NickKnackPaddyWhack
Do you think talking about someone means they have feelings for them? He might just have a really interesting roommate.
AntD
Trust me, it went beyond the ‘interesting roommate’ into full documentary mode obsession. It was actually sweet, and reading between the lines, it seemed like his roommate was into him too.
Does Anthony talk about me to anyone else in his life?
The way I apparently can’t shut up about him?
I mean, we currently spend hours messaging most days, sharing stupid memes that no one else would understand.
We’ve got this whole private language of inside jokes that makes me smile at my phone in public, like a complete idiot.
And between all the moments when he pretends to be Anthony Devine—which, commitment to the bit, honestly—I’ve caught enough glimpses of the real person underneath. And I really, really like that person.
Does that add up to something real that exists outside my phone? Or am I just the pathetic guy catching feelings for someone I’ve never actually met?
The only problem is that every time I ask him for a selfie, he sends me stock images of Anthony Devine. Which is funny because it’s part of the running gag between us, but I actually want to know what he looks like.
NickKnackPaddyWhack
Must be nice having someone you’re crushing on located conveniently in the same apartment.
I press send. And then immediately want to throw my phone into the sun. Shit. Is he going to read between the lines and realize I’m basically admitting I have a crush on him? Or is that too much of a leap? Should I send another message to cover my tracks?
Up until now, messaging AntD has been so easy. When did it become such a minefield? When did I start second-guessing every word?
Oh right. When I apparently started developing feelings like an idiot.
A shadow looms over me.
I snap my head up from my phone to see my friend Teddie standing in front of me.
Teddie’s wearing their signature outfit, a vintage band tee under a blazer that definitely came from someone’s dad’s closet, paired with platform boots that make them tower over me.
They’ve got new streaks in their hair this week, electric blue replacing last month’s purple, and approximately twenty-two pins on their messenger bag declaring everything from their pronouns to their strong opinions on both capitalism and cheese.
“Earth to Nick.” They wave a hand in front of my face. “You’re staring at your phone with a constipated look.”
“I don’t have a constipated look.”
“You definitely do. It’s your ‘I’m overthinking a text message’ face.” They slide into the seat across from me. “Are you free tonight? A bunch of us are hitting up that dive bar on St. Marks. The one that doesn’t card and has the bartender who looks like young Anthony Devine if you squint.”
My stomach does something complicated at the mention of Anthony Devine. It’s too close to obsessing over a guy who pretends to be Anthony Devine to amuse me.
“Come on,” Teddie wheedles. “It’ll be fun. Remember fun? That thing we used to have before you became a hermit who only communicates through their phone?”
I glance down at my screen, where AntD hasn’t responded yet. Not that I’m checking. Constantly.
Maybe Teddie’s right. Maybe I need to stop waiting for messages and interact with real humans. Ones I can see and touch, and who I can actually talk aloud to.
“Yeah, okay. I’ll come.”
Unfortunately, I’m only ten minutes into my evening when I realize coming out tonight was a big mistake.
Mainly because I glance down the bar and see the last big mistake I made. The mistake to end all mistakes.
Chad.
He looks exactly the same—perfectly styled hair, designer jeans, and that smile that used to make me melt. Now it just makes me want to throw something, preferably at his face.
He’s leaning against the bar, working his magic on the bartender, who seems appropriately dazzled.
I try to back away, but Chad’s head turns like he’s got a radar for ex-boyfriends he cheated on. Which, statistically, must be a lot of people by now.
“Nick!” He says my name like we’re old friends, not like he fucked his yoga instructor in my bed. “Wow, you look”—his eyes scan me up and down—“exactly the same.”
Which, coming from Chad, is definitely not a compliment.
“Chad.” I aim for neutral but land somewhere around “stepped on a LEGO.”
“Still wearing the college-student chic, I see.” He gestures at my admittedly ratty hoodie.
“Some things never change,” I say neutrally.
“Any chance your uptight attitude has changed?” He raises an eyebrow. “Because that really needed to be updated.”
The bartender snickers. Actually fucking snickers. While Chad smirks like he’s won something.
“I’m not uptight just because I didn’t want to share you with half of Manhattan,” I snap.
“See, this is what I was talking about,” Chad says to the bartender like they’re already best friends. “The guy is so rigid. No sense of adventure. I tried to help him explore, expand his horizons, but…” He shrugs like I’m a lost cause.
“You tried to get me to have a threesome with your CrossFit trainer.”
“Like I said, rigid.” Chad turns back to the bartender with a conspiratorial smile. “Probably still listening to the same five playlists on repeat. Let me guess, Nick—still obsessed with Anthony Devine?”
My face burns. “I’m not—”
“He has this whole shrine of Anthony Devine in his bedroom,” Chad continues. “Posters, albums, merchandise. It was cute at first, but then it was like, grow up, you know?”
The bartender is fully smirking now, and I want to sink through the floor. Through the foundation. Through the earth’s crust. All the way to the planet’s molten core.
This is why I don’t go out. This is why I stay home and message people who can’t see me turning red and stumbling over my words.
My cheeks are on fire. There is nothing to salvage here.
Defeated and drinkless, I head back to my table, where Teddie’s forehead is creased. “You okay?”
“Yeah, I’m okay,” I say.
It’s a lie. All I want to do is go home and message AntD. The one person who makes me feel like I’m not a complete disaster.
I stick it out for another hour before pleading tiredness to Teddie and making my escape.
As soon as I’m on the subway, I message AntD.
NickKnackPaddyWhack
Hey, you around?
AntD
Yeah, I’m here. What’s up?
Despite the fact that AntD and I have been messaging constantly for weeks, we haven’t exactly gone into heavy details about our personal lives. But I really want to vent to him right now. Need to, maybe.
This feels like crossing some invisible threshold, giving personal information.
Moving from “guy I joke around with” to “guy I trust with the ugly personal stuff.” And maybe I should be more careful about that.
But Chad just made me feel about two inches tall in front of a smirking bartender, and careful is not really in my emotional wheelhouse right now.
NickKnackPaddyWhack
I ran into my ex tonight. It did not go well.
AntD
What happened?
NickKnackPaddyWhack
He was a complete dickhead to me.
I don’t understand why ex-boyfriends are not banished to another planet.
AntD
I agree. They should all be located on planet asshole.
NickKnackPaddyWhack
No. I don’t want to give them access to assholes. They don’t deserve that.
There’s a pause before Anthony’s reply flashes up on my screen.
AntD
I just snorted soda out of my nose thanks to you.
So, why did you break up?
NickKnackPaddyWhack
Because he’s a conniving, cheating scumbag, and it turns out those aren’t qualities I look for in a man.
AntD
Surprising.
NickKnackPaddyWhack
I know, right?
The thing I hate is how he tries to twist everything around so it’s my fault. Like, he claims he cheated on me because I’m inflexible in bed.
For the record, I’m very flexible in bed. But you know, apparently, because I didn’t want to engage in group sex all the time, I’m a prude.
AntD
Group sex is overrated.
Something in my chest loosens. It’s stupid how much those four words mean to me, but after months of Chad making me feel like a freak for wanting something as radical as one person who doesn’t sleep with other people, hearing someone casually agree feels like being handed a glass of water after crawling through a desert.
NickKnackPaddyWhack
I completely agree. It’s like you spend so much time negotiating the logistics and what goes where that it loses its fun for me, you know?
I prefer sex to be more spontaneous and about how you feel in the moment rather than needing to be choreographed.
And I hate the fact that I’m branded heteronormative just because I believe in monogamy in a relationship.
Like, that has nothing to do with my sexuality or how queer I am.
I can be gay as fuck and still want just one person.
Why is that so hard for people to understand?
Sorry for the rant.
AntD
No worries. And for the record, I agree with you 100%. It makes no sense to me that people who brand something heteronormative are then implying there’s a way to be normal as a queer person. The whole point was supposed to be that there’s no “right” way to love someone.
My eyes prickle. Oh no. No, no, no. I am not crying on the subway about a text message.
But AntD gets it. He actually, really gets it.
This is what I can’t explain to Jade or Teddie or anyone else who asks why I spend so much time messaging a stranger. It’s not just that AntD is funny, though he is. It’s not just that he’s easy to talk to, though he is that too.
It’s that he seems to align with me in a deeper way.
NickKnackPaddyWhack
Exactly. But now if you’re not poly or into kink or whatever, suddenly, you’re boring or repressed.
AntD
It’s like we fought so hard to not be put in boxes, and now we’re creating our own boxes and judging anyone who doesn’t fit.
NickKnackPaddyWhack
Yeah, I’m over boxes. Unless they contain pizza. Those boxes can stay.
AntD
Actually, that’s not a bad idea for a song.
NickKnackPaddyWhack
What, pizza boxes?
AntD
No, the idea of fighting so hard to be free only to lock ourselves in different cages.
NickKnackPaddyWhack
You should definitely write that song. I’d listen to it.
Along with your other millions of listeners because, you know, you’re Anthony Devine.
AntD
You are completely correct. I am Anthony Devine.
I huff out a quiet laugh. Sure he is.
But you know what? Whoever AntD actually is, he just did something that Anthony Devine’s music has always done for me. Made me feel less alone, more understood.
Isn’t that all anyone wants in this world?