Chapter 3Before I Knew It Was You

By the time I created my third account, I had learned my lesson. I was strictly a silent observer. No liking. No commenting.

Between my part-time jobs and finals week, I was exhausted. I barely had time to log onto Twitter anyway.

One night, my shift at the off-campus convenience store ended at 10 PM. Outside, the rain was coming down in thick, torrential sheets. I hesitated under the awning, pulling my thin jacket tighter around myself, and dialed Carter’s number.

It rang until the last possible second before he picked up. In the background, I could hear the heavy, thudding bass of a frat party.

He had promised to pick me up, but I waited another thirty minutes and he never showed. When I called him back, he sent me straight to voicemail.

It wasn't the first time. Carter’s promises were written in disappearing ink.

The rain was getting heavier, pooling at my worn-out sneakers. I pulled my hood up, preparing to make a run for the bus stop, when a horn beeped sharply.

A sleek, black Audi pulled up to the curb, tires hissing against the wet asphalt. The tinted passenger window glided down, revealing Harrison’s impossibly stoic face.

"Get in," he commanded.

The interior of the car smelled like expensive leather and cedar. Soft, acoustic indie music played at a low volume.

It was jarring. Sitting next to this polished, aloof heir, I found it impossible to connect him to the unhinged, feral internet troll who spent his nights screaming at strangers online.

The silence stretched, thick and awkward, until Harrison spoke.

"It's pouring. Why didn't your boyfriend come get you?"

"He had... something important come up. He couldn't make it."

Right on cue, the car's Bluetooth system chimed. Harrison tapped the steering wheel to answer.

I cursed my sharp hearing. It was Carter’s voice, echoing through the surround-sound speakers, slurring slightly as he invited Harrison to come do shots at the bar.

Something important. Right.

I tensed, terrified that Harrison's internet persona was about to possess him. I braced myself for him to yell at me for lying, to call me a stupid Piglet to my face.

But he didn't. In the real world, he maintained that impenetrable, aristocratic chill.

Harrison cut Carter off with a blunt refusal. He glanced at me out of the corner of his eye, his voice cool and detached. "I'm not like Carter. I don't care for bars, and I have zero interest in that crowd."

I hadn't even asked.

He drove me all the way to my dorm building in silence. Before I stepped out into the rain, I hesitated. I reached into my tote bag and pulled out a slightly bruised, clearance-rack cupcake I had bought at the end of my shift.

"Here," I said softly, holding it out to him. "Thank you for the ride."